_Lea_. Heer's the Duke his father, heele marr all. _Albe_. O villaine, he that lockt her in his arms And through the river swims along with her. Staie, traiterous _Nessus_, give me bowes and shafts. Whirre! I have strooke him under the shorte ribs: I come, _Hyanthe_! O peace, weepe no more. [_Exit_. _Alp_. Meanes he not me by _Nessus, Hardenbergh_? _Hard_.[60] My lord, he is surelie mad. _Alph_. _Hyanthe_ loves him: See how she trembles and how pale she lookes! She hath enchanted my deere _Alderbure_ With crafts and treasons and most villanous Arts Are meanes by which shee seekes to murder him. _Hardenbergh_, take her and imprison her Within thy house: I will not loose my sonne For all the wealth the Loves of heaven embrace. _Hya_. What meanes your grace by this? _Alp_. Away with her! _Hya_. You offer me intolerable wrong. _Alp_. Away with her, I say. _Har_. Come Ladie, feare not, Ile entreate you well. _Hya_. What injurie is this! [_Exit Hard. with Hyan_. _Alph_. So now I have obtainde what I desir'd, And I shall easilie worke her to my will; For she is in the hands of _Hardenbergh_ Who will continually be pleading for me. _Enter Doctor_. _Doct_. Roome! a halle, a hall! be garr, vere is de Duke? _Alp_. Heere, maister Doctor. _Doct_. O we have grand important matter for tella your grace how de know de cause for de wish cause your sonne is da madman. _Enter Alberdure running_. _Alb_. What? art thou heere? sweete _Clio_, come, be bright; Take me thy Timbrell and Tobaccho pipe, And give _Hyanthe_ musicke at her windowe. _Doct_. Garrs blurr, my cap, my cap, cost me de deale a French crowne. _Alb_. But I will crown thee with a cod of Muske, Instead of Lawrell, and a Pomander[61]: But thou must write _Acrostignues_ first, my girle. _Doct_. Garzowne, what a pox do you stand heere for, de grand poltrone pezant, and see de Doctor be dus? _Alb_. Aye me, what _Demon_ was it guide me thus? This is _Melpomene_, that Scottish witch[62], Whom I will scratche like to some villanous gibb, And-- _Doct_. O Garzowne, la diabole, la pestilence, gars blur! _Alp_. Lay holde upon him, helpe the Doctor there! _Alb_. Then reason's fled to animals, I see, And I will vanish like Tobaccho smoake. _Exit_. _Doct_. A grand pestilence a dis furie _Alp_. Follow him, sirs, _Leander_, good _Leander_! But, Doctor, canst thou tell us the true cause Of this suddaine frenzie? _Doct_. O by garr, pleaze your grace heare de long tale [or] de short tale? _Alp_. Briefe as you can, good Doctor. _Doct_. Faite and trot, briefe den, very briefe, very laccingue. De Prince, your sonne, feast with de knave Jeweller, _Flores_, and he for make a Prince love a de foule croope-shouldra daughter _Cornelia_, give a de prince a de love poudra which my selfe give for the wenche a before, and make him starke madde be garr because he drinke a too much a. _Alp_. How know you this?