1 Gent. And now you put me in mind, I could employ it well,
For your grace, specially: For the Dukes Cosin
Is by this time in's violent fit of mirth,
And a device must be sought out for suddainly,
To over-cloy the passion.
Lap. Say no more, Sir,
I'll fit you with my Scholars, new practitioners,
Endurers of the time.
Clow. Whereof I am one Sir.
1 Gent. You carry it away smooth; give me thy hand, Sir. [Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima.
Enter the two Brothers.
Pas. Ha, ha, ha. [Within.
2 Bro. Hark, hark, how loud his fit's grown.
Pas. Ha, ha, ha.