Han. One of your Hault-boyes (sir) is out of tune.
Flo. Out of tune, villaine? which way?
Han. Drunke (sir), ant please you?
Flo. Ist night with him alreadie?—Well, get other Musicke.
Han. So we had need in truth, sir. [Exit Hans.
Doct. Me no trouble you by my fait, me take my leave: see, de unmannerlie Marshan staie, by garr. [Exit.
Mar. Sir, with your leave Ile choose some other time When I may lesse offend you with my staie. [Exit.
Flo. Albertus, welcome.—And now, Cornelia,
Are we alone? looke first; I, all is safe.
Daughter, I charge thee now even by that love
In which we have been partiall towards thee
(Above thy sister, blest with bewties guifts)
Receive this vertuous powder at my hands,
And (having mixt it in a bowle of Wine)
Give it unto the Prince in his carowse.
I meane no villanie heerein to him
But love to thee wrought by that charmed cup.
We are (by birth) more noble then our fortunes;
Why should we, then, shun any meanes we can
To raise us to our auncient states againe?
Thou art my eldest care, thou best deserv'st
To have thy imperfections helpt by love.
Corn. Then, father, shall we seeke sinister meanes
Forbidden by the lawes of God and men?
Can that love prosper which is not begun
By the direction of some heavenly fate?
Flo. I know not; I was nere made Bishop yet;
I must provide for mine, and still preferre
(Above all these) the honour of my house:
Come, therefore, no words, but performe my charge.