Athelst. Cure her, and England’s treasury shall stand,
As free for thee to use, as rain from Heaven.
Montr. Cure me, and to thy coffers I will send
More gold from Scotland than thy life can spend.
Longa. Cure Longaville, and all his wealth is thine.
Andel. He Monsieur Long-villain,[405] gra tanck you: Gra tanck your mashesty a great teal artely by my trat: where be dis Madam Princeza dat be so mush tormenta? O Jeshu: one, two: an tree, four an five, seez horn: Ha, ha, ha, pardona moy prea wid al mine art, for by my trat, me can no point shose but laugh, Ha, ha, ha, to mark how like tree bul-beggera, dey stand. Oh, by my trat and fat, di divela be whoreson, scurvy, paltry, ill favore knave to mock de madam, and gentill-home so: Ha, ha, ha, ha.
Linc. This doctor comes to mock your majesty.
Andel. No, by my trat la, but me lova musha musha merymant: come, madam, pre-artely stand still, and letta me feel you. Dis horn, O ’tis pretty horn, dis be facile, easy for pull de vey; but, madam, dis O be grand, grand horn, difficil, and very deep; ’tis perilous, a grand laroone. But, madam, prea be patient, we shall take it off vell.
Athelst. Thrice have we pared them off, but with fresh pain,
In compass of a thought they rise again.
Andel. It’s true, ’tis no easy mattra, to pull horn off, ’tis easy to pull on, but hard for pull off; some horn be so good fellow, he will still inhabit in de man’s pate, but ’tis all one for tat, I shall snap away all dis. Madam, trust dis down into your little belly.
Agrip. Father, I am in fear to taste his physic.
First let him work experiments on those.
Andel. I’ll sauce you for your infidelity.
In no place can I spy my wishing hat. [Aside.