_Alb_. _Hyanthe_, villaine? wherfore namest thou her? _Pea_. If I have any scarres in my belly, pray God I starve, sir. _Alb_. The wretch is mad, I thinke. _Pea_. Not I, sir, but you be not madde, you are well amended, sir. _Alb_. Why tellest thou me of madnesse? _Pea_. You were little better then mad even now, sir, when you gave me such a twitch by the beard. _Alb_. I can remember no such thing, my friend. _Pea_. No, sir, but if you had a beard you wold. _Alb_. What place is this? how far am I from court? _Pea_. Some two myles and a wye byt, sir. _Alb_. I wonder much my friends have left me thus. Peazant, I pray thee change apparell with mee. _Pea_. Change apparell, I faith you will lose by that, sir. _Alb_. I care not; come, I pray thee, letts change. _Pea_. With all my heart, sir, and I thanke you, too. Sblood y'are very moist, sir, did you sweat all this, I pray? you have not the desease, I hope? _Alb_. No, I warrant thee. _Pea_. At a venture, sir, Ile change. Nothing venter, nothing enter. _Alb_. Come, letts be gone. _Pea_. Backe, sir, I pray. [_Exeunt_. [SCENE 2.] _Enter Hardenbergh with a guard, bringing in Cassimere, Flores, Doctor, Marchant, Cornelia, Motto, and Raphe_. _Har_. Thus, _Flores_, you apparantly perceive How vaine was your ambition and what dangers, All unexpected, fall upon your head, Povertie, exile, guiltinesse of heart, And endlesse miserie to you and yours. Your goods are seized alreadie for the Duke; And, if Prince _Alberdure_ be found deceast, The least thou canst expect is banishment. Earle _Cassimere_, I take[76] your word of pledge Of his appearance. Pages of the Prince, Come guide me straight where his drownd bodie lies, Drownes his father in eternall teares. [_Exit cum servis; manet Al_. _Mot_. Drownes him and will hang us. _Mar_. Good Signior _Flores_, I am sorry for you. _Doct_. _Marshan_, parle vu pen. Be garr, me vor grand love me beare de good Mershan, vor de grand worte, be garr, and de grand deserte me sea in you, de bravea Mershan, me no point rivall; you have _Cornelia_ alone, by my trot, ha, ha, ha! _Mar_. M. Doctor _Doddie_, surnam'd the Amorous'de, I will overcome you in curtesie, your selfe shall have her. _Doct_. No, by garr, Marshan: you bring de fine tings from de strange land vere de Sunne do rise, de Jewell, de fine stuffe vor de brave gowne: me no point. Come, by garr, you have _Cornel_. _Cass_. Hands off, base Doctor! she despiseth thee, Too good for thee to touch or looke upon. _Flo_. What wretched state is this, Earle _Cassimere_, That I and my unhappie progenie Stand subject to the scornes of such as these! _Cass_. Grieve not, deare friends, these are but casuall darts. That wanton Fortune daily casts at those In whose true bosomes perfect honour growes. Now, _Dodypoll_, to you: you here refuse _Cornelias_ marriage? you'le none of her!