_Alph_. Well, sir, this drew me into deepe conceit, And to recomfort me I did commaund Lord _Hardenbergh_ should ope a Cabanet Of my choise Jewels and to bring me thence A ring, a riche and Violet _Hiacinthe_, Whose sacred vertue is to cheere the heart And to excite our heavie spirits to mirthe; Which[56], putting on my finger, swift did breake. Now this, indeed, did much discomfort me, And heavie to the death I went to bed; Where in a slumber I did strongly thinke I should be married to the beautious Dutchesse, And coming to my Chappell to that end, Duke _Constantine_ her brother with his Lords And all our peeres (me thought) attending us, Forth comes my princelie _Katherine_ led by death, Who threatening me stood close unto her side, Urging by those most horrible portents That wedding her I married mine owne death. I, frighted in my sleepe, struggled and sweat, And in the violence of my thoughts cryed out So lowde that _Hardenberghe_ awakt and rose. Didst thou not _Hardenberghe_? _Hard_. I felt I did, for never yet (my Lord) Was I in heart and soule so much dismaide. _Alph_. Why thus you see (my Lord) how your delaies Were mightilie and with huge cause enforste. _Amb_. But dreames (my lord) you know growe by the humors Of the moist night, which, store of vapours lending Unto our stomaches when we are in sleepe And to the bodies supreame parts ascending, Are thence sent back by coldnesse of the braine, And these present our idle phantasies With nothing true but what our labouring soules Without their active organs safelie worke. _Alph_. My lord, know you there are two sorts of dreams, One sort whereof are onely phisicall, And such are they whereof your Lordship speakes; The other Hiper-phisicall, that is Dreames sent from heaven or from the wicked fiends, Which nature doth not forme of her owne power But are extrinsecate, by marvaile wrought; And such was mine. Yet, notwithstanding this, I hope fresh starres will governe in the spring; And then, assure your princelie friend your maister, Our promise in all honour shall be kept. Returne this answere, Lord Ambassador, And recommend me to my sacred love. _Amb_. I will, my lord; but how it will be accepted I know not yet; your selfe shall shortly heare. _Alph_. Lords, some of you associate him.--Ha, ha! [_Exeunt all but Alph_. [_and Hard_. _Hard_. Exceeding well and gravelie good, my lord. _Alph_. Come, lets go and visit my _Hianthe_, She whose perfections are of power to moove The thoughts of _Caesar_ (did he live) to love. [_Exeunt_. _Finis Actus Secundus_. _Actus Tertius_. _Enter Flores, Cassimeere, Lassing., Lucil., Cor., Han., and Doct_. _Ha_. Well, mistr., God give you more joy of your husband then your husband has of you. _Doct_. Fie, too, too bad by my fait. Vat, my lord? melancholie? and ha de sweete Bride, de faire Bride, de verie fine Bride? ô monsieur, one, two, tree, voure, vive, with de brave capra, heigh!