the Duke dissembles.

_Alp_. Heere on my knees, at the altar of those feete,
I offer up in pure and sacred breath
The true speech of my hart and hart it selfe.
Require no more if thou be princelie borne
And not of rocks or ruthelesse tygers bred.

_Kath_. My Lord, I kindlie cry you mercy now,
Ashamed that you should injurie your estate
To kneele to me; and vowe before these lords
To make you all amends you can desire.

_Flo_. Madame, in admiration of your Grace
And princelie wisedom, and to gratifie
The long wisht joye done to my Lord the Duke,
I here present your highnesse with this cup,
Wrought admirablie by th' art of Spirits,
Of substance faire, more rich then earthly Jemmes,
Whose valew no mans judgement can esteeme.

_Alp_. _Flores_, Ile interrupt the Dutchesse thankes
And for the present thou hast given to her
To strengthen her consent to my desires,
I recompence thee with a free release
Of all offences twixt thy selfe and me.

_Flo_. I humblie thanke your excellence.

_Kath_. But where is now unkinde Earle _Lassinbergh_,
That injures his faire love and makes her weare
This worthlesse garland? Come, sir, make amends,
Or we will heere awarde you worthie penance.

_Lass_. Madame, since her departure I have done
More hartie penance then her hart could wish,
And vowe hereafter to live ever hers.

_Kat_. Then let us cast aside these forlorne wreathes,
And with our better fortunes change our habits.

_Enter Doctor in poste, the Marchant following him_.

_Doct_. O stay, my Lorte, me pray you on knee von staie.

_Alp_. What's the matter, Doctor?

_Doct_. O me bret be garr for haste.

_Con_. What ayles the hastie Doctor?

_Doct_. My Lort be garr he lyes falslie in his troate;
Me proove by the duell dat he be the fallce knave.

_Alp_. Who is it, man, with whom thou art so bold?

_Doct_. My Lorte, if me make my contrack of marriage, if me be not as
loose as de vide worlde, if me doe not alleadge--

_Alp_. I pray thee, man, what meanest thou?

_Doct_. Be garr, enforme your grace vot he dare I will proove by good
argument and raison dat he is de falce beggerlie Jeweller, dat I no
point marrie _Cornelia_. Vat say you now?

_Cass_. My Lord, no doubt some man hath guld the Doctor,
Supposing he should be enforste to wed her
That is my wife and ever scorned him.

_Doct_. Vat you say? de Marshan tell a me I marrie _Cornelia_ spit
my nose.

_Alp_. The Marchant I perceive hath trimde you, Doctor