_Flo_. Where are these wooers heere? poore sillie men, Highly deceiv'd to gape for marriage heere Onely for gaine: I have another reache More high then their base spirits can aspire: Yet must I use this Doctors secret aide, That hath alreadie promist me a drug Whose vertue shall effect my whole desires. _Doct_. O _Monsieur Flores_, mee be your worships servant; mee lay my hand under your Lordships foote by my trot. _Flo_. O maister Doctor, you are welcome to us, And you, _Albertus_, it doth please me much To see you vowed rivalls thus agree. _Doct_. Agree? by my trot sheele not have him. _Ma_. You finde not that in your urins, M. Doctor. _Doct_. _Mounsieur Flores_, come hedder, pray. _Flo_. What sayes maister Doctor? have you remembred me? _Doct_. I, by garr: heere be de powdra, you give de halfe at once. _Flo_. But are you sure it will worke the effect? _Doct_. Me be sure? by garr she no sooner drinke but shee hang your neck about; she stroake your beard; she nippe your sheeke; she busse your lippe, by garr. _Flo_. What, wilt thou eate me, Doctor? _Doct_. By garr, mee must shew you de vertue by plaine demonstration. _Flo_. Well, tell me, is it best in wine or no? _Doct_. By garr de Marshan, de Marshan, I tinck he kisse my sweete mistresse. _Flo_. Nay, pray thee, Doctor, speake; is't best in wine or no? _Doct_. O, good Lort! in vyne: vat else I pray you? you give de vench to loove vatra? be garre me be ashame of you. _Flo_. Well, thankes, gentle Doctor. And now (my friends) I looke to day for strangers of great state, And must crave libertie to provide for them. Painter, goe leave your worke, and you, _Lucilia_, Keepe you (I charge you) in your chamber close. [_Exeunt Cass. and Lucilia_. _Haunce_, see that all things be in order set Both for our Musicke and our large Carowse, That (after our best countrie fashion) I may give entertainment to the Prince. _Han_. One of your Hault-boyes (sir) is out of tune. _Flo_. Out of tune, villaine? which way? _Han_. Drunke (sir), ant please you? _Flo_. Ist night with him alreadie?--Well, get other Musicke. _Han_. So we had need in truth, sir. [_Exit Hans_. _Doct_. Me no trouble you by my fait, me take my leave: see, de unmannerlie Marshan staie, by garr. [_Exit_. _Mar_. Sir, with your leave Ile choose some other time When I may lesse offend you with my staie. [_Exit_.