st.
Where hadst thou this, my good and happy friend?

_Pea_. Faith, sir, I met with the young prince all wet, who lookt as
if he had been a quarter of a yeare drowned, yet prettelie come to
himselfe, saving that he was so madde to change apparrell with me; in
the pocket whereof, sir, I found this Jewell.

_Flo_. O tell me trulie, lives prince _Alberdure_?

_Pea_. He lives a my word, sir, but very poorely now, God help him.

_Cass_. Is he recovered of his lunacie?

_Pea_. I, by my faith, hee's tame enough now, Ile warrant him.

_Flo_. And where is he?

_Pea_. Nay, that I cannot tell.

_Cass_. Come, _Flores_, hast we quicklie to the Court
With this most happie newes.

_Flo_. Come, happie friend,
The most auspicious messenger to me
That ever greeted me in Pesants weeds.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter Doctor_.

_Mar_. I would I could meet M. Doctor Doddie,
I have a tricke to gull the Asse withall;
I christned him right Doctor Doddipole.
Heere he comes passing luckely; Ile counterfeit business with him in all
poste haste possible. Maister Doctor, Maister Doctor!

_Doct_. Shesue, vat ayle de man?

_Mar_. I love you, Maister Doctor, and therefore with all the speed I
could possiblie I sought you out.

_Doct_. Vell, vat?

_Mar_. This, sir; the marriage which we thought made even now, betweene
Earle _Cassimere_ and _Cornelia_, was but a jest only to drawe you to
marry her, for she doth exceedinglie dote upon you; and _Flores_ her
father hath invented that you are betrothed to her and is gone with a
supplication to the Duke to enforce you to marrie her.

_Doct_. Be garr, me thought no lesse. O knave jeweller! O vile begger!
be my trot, Marshan, me studdie, me beat my braine, me invent, me dreame
upon such a ting.

_Mar_. I know, sir, your wit would forsee it.

_Doct_. O by garr, tree, fore, five monthe agoe.

_Mar_. Well, sir, y'ave a perilous wit, God blesse me out of the swinge
of it, but you had best looke to it betimes, for Earl _Cassimere_ hath
made great friends against you.

_Doct_. Marshan, me love, me embrace, me kisse de, will, be my trot.

_Mar_. Well, sir, make haste to prevent the worste.

_Doct_. I flie, Marshan, spit de Earle, spit de wenche, spit all bee
garre. Se dis, Marshan, de brave Braine be garre. [_Exit_.

_Mar_. De brave braine by garre, not a whit of the flower of wit in it.
Ile to the Courte after him, and see how he abuses the Duke's patience.