Monsieur Thomas | ||
SCENE III.
Enter three Physicians with an Urinal.1 Phy.
A Pleurisie, I see it.
2 Phy.
I rather hold it
For tremor Cordis.
3 Phy.
Do you mark the Fæces?
'Tis a most pestilent contagious Feaver,
A surfeit, a plaguey surfeit; he must bleed.
1 Phy.
By no means.
3 Phy.
I say bleed.
1 Phy.
I say 'tis dangerous,
The Person being spent so much before-hand,
And Nature drawn so low, Clysters, cool Clysters.
2 Phy.
Now with your favours I should think a Vomit:
For take away the Cause, the Effect must follow,
The Stomach's foul and fur'd, the pot's unflam'd yet.
3 Phy.
No, no, we'll rectifie that part by mild means,
Nature so sunk must find no violence.
Enter a Servant.
Serv.
Will't please ye draw near? the weak Gentleman
Grows worse and worse still.
1 Phy.
Come, we will attend him.
2 Phy.
He shall do well, my friend.
Serv.
My Masters love, Sir.
1.
Excellent well I warrant thee, right and straight, friend.
3 Phy.
There's no doubt in him, none at all, ne'r fear him.
[Exeunt.
Monsieur Thomas | ||