Doct. O by garr, pleaze your grace heare de long tale [or] de short tale?
Alp. Briefe as you can, good Doctor.
Doct. Faite and trot, briefe den, very briefe, very laccingue. De Prince, your sonne, feast with de knave Jeweller, Flores, and he for make a Prince love a de foule croope-shouldra daughter Cornelia, give a de prince a de love poudra which my selfe give for the wenche a before, and make him starke madde be garr because he drinke a too much a.
Alp. How know you this?
Doct. Experience teach her, by garr; de poudra have grand force for inflama de bloud, too much make a de rage and de present furie: be garr, I feare de mad man as de devilla, garr blesse a.
Enter Hardenbergh.
Alp. How now, sweete Hardenbergh?
Har. The Prince, my Lord, in going downe the staires
Hath forst an Axe[63] from one of the Trevants (?),
And with it (as he runnes) makes such cleare way
As no man dare oppose him to his furie.
Alp. Aye me, what may I do? heere are such newes
As never could have entred our free ears
But that their sharpnesse do enforce a passage.
Follow us, Doctor; 'tis Flores treacherie
That thus hath wrought my sonnes distemperature.
Exit [Alph.