Hard. Exceeding well and gravelie good, my lord.
Alph. Come, lets go and visit my Hianthe, She whose perfections are of power to moove The thoughts of Caesar (did he live) to love.
[Exeunt.
Finis Actus Secundus.
Actus Tertius.
Enter Flores, Cassimeere, Lassing., Lucil., Cor., Han., and Doct.
Ha. Well, mistr., God give you more joy of your husband then your husband has of you.
Doct. Fie, too, too bad by my fait. Vat, my lord? melancholie? and ha de sweete Bride, de faire Bride, de verie fine Bride? ô monsieur, one, two, tree, voure, vive, with de brave capra, heigh!
Han. O the Doctor would make a fine frisking usher in a dauncing schoole.
Doct. O by garr, you must daunce de brave galliarr. A pox of dis melancholie!