Doct. Be garr, me thought no lesse. O knave jeweller! O vile begger! be my trot, Marshan, me studdie, me beat my braine, me invent, me dreame upon such a ting.
Mar. I know, sir, your wit would forsee it.
Doct. O by garr, tree, fore, five monthe agoe.
Mar. Well, sir, y'ave a perilous wit, God blesse me out of the swinge of it, but you had best looke to it betimes, for Earl Cassimere hath made great friends against you.
Doct. Marshan, me love, me embrace, me kisse de, will, be my trot.
Mar. Well, sir, make haste to prevent the worste.
Doct. I flie, Marshan, spit de Earle, spit de wenche, spit all bee garre. Se dis, Marshan, de brave Braine be garre. [Exit.
Mar. De brave braine by garre, not a whit of the flower of wit in it. Ile to the Courte after him, and see how he abuses the Duke's patience.
[Exit.