_Han_. O the Doctor would make a fine frisking usher in a dauncing schoole. _Doct_. O by garr, you must daunce de brave galliarr. A pox of dis melancholie! _Cass_. My Lord, your humors are most strange to us, The humble fortune of a servants life Should in your carelesse state so much displease. _Lass_. _Quod licet ingratum est, quod non licet acrius urit_. _Flor_. Could my childes beautie moove you so, my lord, When Lawe and dutie held it in restraint, And now (they both allowe it) be neglected? _Lass_. I cannot rellish joyes that are enforst; For, were I shut in Paradice it selfe, I should as from a prison strive t'escape. _Luc_. Haplesse _Luci[li]a_, worst in her best estate! _Lass_. He seeke me out some unfrequented place Free from these importunities of love, And onelie love what mine owne fancie likes. _Luc_. O staie, my Lord. _Flor_. What meanes Earle _Lassenbergh_? _Cass_. Sweete Earle, be kinder. _Lass_. Let me go, I pray. _Doct_. Vat? you go leave a de Bride? tis no point good fashion; you must stay, be garr. _Lass_. Must I stay, sir? _Doct_. I spit your nose, and yet it is no violence. I will give a de prove a dee good reason. Reguard, Monsieur: you no point eate a de meate to daie, you be de empty; be gar you be emptie, you be no point vel; be garr you be vere sick, you no point leave a de provision; be garr you stay, spit your nose. _Lass_. All staies have strength like to thy arguments. _Cass_. Staie, _Lassenbergh_. _Luc_. Deare Lord. _Flo_. Most honord Earle. _Lass_. Nothing shall hinder my resolved intent, But I will restlesse wander from the world Till I have shaken off these chaines from me. [_Exit La_. _Luc_. And I will never cease to follow thee Till I have wonne thee from these unkinde thoughts. _Cass_. Haplesse _Lucilia_! [_Exit Luc_. _Flor_. Unkinde _Lassenbergh_! _Doct_. Be garr, dis Earle be de chollericke complection, almost skipshack, be garr: he no point staie for one place. Madame, me be no so laxative; mee be bound for no point moove six, seaven, five hundra yeare from you sweete sidea; be garr, me be as de fine _Curianet_ about your vite necke; my harte be close tie to you as your fine Buske or de fine Gartra boute your fine legge. _Hans_. A good sencible Doctor; how feelinglie he talkes. _Doct_. A plage a de Marshan! blowe wind! _Han_. You need not curse him, sir; he has the stormes at Sea by this time. _Doct_. O _forte bien_! a good Sea-sick jeast by this faire hand: blowe wind for mee! puh, he no come heere, Madame. _Flo_. Come, noble Earle, let your kind presence grace Our feast prepard for this obdurate Lord, And give some comfort to his sorrowfull bride Who in her pitteous teares swims after him. _Doct_. Me beare you company, signior _Flores_. _Flor_. It shall not need, sir. _Doct_. Be garr, dis be de sweet haven for me for anchor.