ngs than he that feeds on a corrupted Conscience.

_King_. Conscience! what's that? a Conjuring booke ne're open'd
Without the readers danger: 'tis indeed
A scare-crow set i'th world to fright weake fooles.
Hast thou seene fields pav'd o're with carkasses
Now to be tender-footed, not to tread
On a boyes mangled quarters and a womans?

_Bal_. Nay, Sir, I have search'd the records of the Low-Countries and
finde that by your pardon I need not care a pinne for Goblins; and
therefore I will doo't, Sir: I did but recoyle because I was double
charg'd.

_King_. No more; here comes a Satyre with sharpe hornes.

_Enter Cardinall, and Medina like a French Doctor_.

_Car_. Sir, here's a Frenchman charg'd with some strange businesse
Which to your close eare onely hee'll deliver,
Or else to none.

_King_. A Frenchman?

_Med_. We, Mounsire.

_King_. Cannot he speake the Spanish?

_Med_. Si Signior, vr Poco:--Monsir, Acoutez in de Corner; me come for
offer to your Bon gace mi trez humble service. By gar no John fidleco
shall put into your neare braver Melody dan dis vn petite pipe shall
play upon to your great bon Grace.

_King_. What is the tune you'll strike up? touch the string.

_Med_. Dis; me ha run up and downe mane Countrie and learne many fine
ting and mush knavery; now more and all dis me know you ha jumbla de
fine vench and fill her belly wid a Garsoone: her name is le Madame--

_King_. _Onaelia_.

_Med_. She by gar: Now, Monsire, dis Madam send for me to helpe her
Malady, being very naught of her corpes (her body). Me know you no
point love a dis vensh; but, royall Monsire, donne Moy ten towsand
French Crownes, she shall kicke up her taile, by gar, and beshide lye
dead as dog in the shannell.

_King_. Speake low.

_Med_. As de bagge-pipe when the winde is puff, Garbeigh.

_King_. Thou nam'st ten thousand Crownes; I'le treble them,
Rid me but of this leprosie: thy name?

_Med_. Monsire Doctor _Devile_.

_King_. Shall I a second wheele adde to this mischiefe
To set it faster going? if one breake,
Th'other may keepe his motion.

_Med_. Esselent fort boone.

_King_. _Baltazar_,
To give thy Sword an edge againe, this Frenchman
Shall whet thee on, that if thy pistoll faile,
Or ponyard, this can send the poyson home.

_Bal_. Brother _Cain_, wee'll shake hands.

_Med_. In de bowle of de bloody busher: tis very fine wholesome.

_King_. And more to arme your resolution,
I'le tune this Churchman s