Count. Go take him in and feast this merrie swaine,
Syrrha, my cooke is your phisitian.
He hath a purge for to disiest the world.
Ateu. Will you not, Ida, grant his highnesse this?
Ida. As I haue said, in dutie I am his:
For other lawlesse lusts, that ill beseeme him,
I cannot like, and good I will not deeme him.
Count. Ida come in, and sir if so you please,
Come take a homelie widdowes intertaine. 930
Ida. If he haue no great haste, he may come nye.
If haste, tho he be gone, I will not crie.
Exeunt.
Ateu. I see this labour lost, my hope in vaine,
Yet will I trie an other drift againe.
Enter the Bishop of S. Andrewes, Earle Douglas, II. ii.
Morton, with others, one way, the Queene with
Dwarfes an other way.
B. S. Andr. Oh wrack of Cõmon-weale! Oh wretched state!
Doug. Oh haplesse flocke whereas the guide is blinde? 940