His jewel for her jewel: well put in, duke.


Brach. Nay, let me see you wear it.


Vit. Here, sir?


Brach. Nay, lower, you shall wear my jewel lower.


Flam. That 's better: she must wear his jewel lower.


Vit. To pass away the time, I 'll tell your grace
A dream I had last night.


Brach. Most wishedly.


Vit. A foolish idle dream:
Methought I walked about the mid of night
Into a churchyard, where a goodly yew-tree
Spread her large root in ground: under that yew,
As I sat sadly leaning on a grave,
Chequer'd with cross-sticks, there came stealing in
Your duchess and my husband; one of them
A pickaxe bore, th' other a rusty spade,