ey needed not the helpe of Art.

_Flo_. My Lord, you see all sorts of Jewells heere,
I will not tire your grace with view of them;
Ile onely shew you one faire Aggat more,
Commended chiefely for the workmanship.

_Alber_. O excellent! this is the very face
Of _Cassimeere_: by viewing both at once,
Either I thinke that both of them do live
Or both of them are Images and dead.

_Flo_. My Lord, I feare I trouble you too long:
Wilt please your Lordships taste th[e]is homely cates?

_Corn_. First (if it please you) give me leave to greete
Your Princely hand with this unworthy gift,
Yet woorthy since it represents your selfe.

_Alber_. What? my selfe, Lady? trust me it is pittie
So faire a Jemme should hold so rude a picture.

_Cor_. My Lord, 'tis made a Jewell in your picture,
Which otherwise had not deserv'd the name.

_Alber_. Kinde mistresse, kindly I accept your favor.

_Enter Lassingbergh, Haunce and Lucilia_.

_Flo_. Heere, you young gentleman; do you know this man?

[_Exit Han_.

_Mot_. Yes, signior _Flores_, 'tis Earle _Lassingbergh_.--My lord, what
meane you to come this disguisd?

_Lu_. Aye me!

_Lass_. The foolish boye is mad; I am _Cornelius_. Earle _Lassingbergh_?
I never heard of him.

_Flo_. O _Lassingbergh_, we know your villainie,
And thy dishonour (fond _Lucilia_).
Asse that I was, dull, sencelesse, grosse braynd fool
That dayly saw so many evident signes
Of their close dealings, winckings, becks and touches,
And what not? To enforce me to discerne,
Had I not been effatuate even by Fate.
Your presence, noble Lords (in my disgrace)
Doth deepely moove mee, and I heere protest
Most solemnly (in sight of heaven and you)
That if Earle _Lassingbergh_ this day refuse
To make faire mends for this fowle trespasse done,
I will revenge me on his treacherous heart
Though I sustaine for him a thousand deaths.

_Cass_. This action (traitour _Lassingbergh_) deserves
Great satisfaction or else great revenge.

_Alber_. Beleeve me, gallant Earle, your choice is faire.
And worthy your most honourable love.

_Lassin_. My Lord, it greeves me to be thus unmaskt
And made ridiculous in the stealth of love;
But (for _Lucilias_ honour) I protest
(Not for the desperate vowe that _Flores_ made)
She was my wife before she knew my love,
By secret promise made in sight of heaven.
The marriage which he urgeth I accept,
But this compulsion and unkinde disgrace