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_Foss._ Bleed him.
_Plot._ Make de searrification, give me de lancet, me will do it myself, and after dat will put de blister to de sole of de feet,
_Foss._ Your dolor proceeds from a frigid _intemperies_ of the brain, a strong disease! the enemy has invaded the very citadel of your microcosm, the magazine of your vital functions; he has set down before it; yet there seems to be a good garrison of vital spirits, and we don't question to be able to defend it.
_Plot._ Ve will cannonade de enemy with pills, bombard him wid de bolus, blow him up with volatiles, fill up the trenches wid de large innundation of apozems, and dislodge him wid de stink pot; let de apotecary bring up de artillery of medicine immediately.
_Foss._ True, we might unload the stomach by gentle emeticks, and the intestines by clysters stimulative, carminative, and emollient, with strong hydroticks, quiet the spasms of the viscera by paregoricks, draw off the stagnant blood by deep scarrifications, and depurate its faeculencies by volatiles; after this, let there be numerous blisters and potential cauteries--I consult my patient's ease; I am against much physick--He faints, he is apoplectic, bleed him this moment.
_Plot._ Hoy de servant dere, make hast, bring de pan of hot coals; or de red hot iron to make application to de temples.
Enter HUGH.
_Hugh._ Here's the poker red hot from the fire.
_Plot._ Very well make de burn dere, exactly dere.
[_putting the poker near his head._
_Underp._ Hold, hold, am I to be murder'd? [_starts up._] I know you, Plotwell, and was I not oblig'd by honour and friendship, I'd expose you to the doctor.
[_aside to Plotwell._
_Plot._ Very lunatick, mad, fetch me de cord to make de tie upon de leg and de arm, take off thirty ounces of blood, and den plunge him into de cold bath.
_Foss._ Your judgment, doctor Lubomirski, is excellent, I will call my servants to a.s.sist us.
_Underp._ Hearke'e, old put; I came to take your advice, and not that French son of a wh.o.r.e's scarrifications; and so plague take you both.
[_Exit Underplot and Hugh._
ACT IV.
Enter Dr. FOSSILE, and PLOTWELL.
_Foss._ Doctor Lubomirski, this vial that you have intrusted into my custody, shall be with acknowledgment return'd after a few experiments; I must crave your indulgence; diseases, you know, Sir, are impertinent, and will tie themselves to no hours, poor lady Hyppokekoana!
_Plot._ Ah Sir! I beg your pardon, if you make visit to de patient, me will divert myself in your study till you make return.
_Foss._ That cannot be, I have a lady just coming to consult me in a case of secrecy.
_Plot._ Have you not de wife? me will make conversation wid de ladies till you come.
_Foss._ They see no company in the morning, they are all in _deshabillee_; most learned doctor Lubomirski, your humble servant.
_Plot._ Most ill.u.s.trious doctor Fossile, me be, with de profoundest adoration
_Foss._ With the greatest admiration
_Plot._ Your most humble
_Foss._ Most obedient servant.
_Plot._ Ah, Monsieur, point de ceremonie.
[_Exit Plotwell._
Enter HUGH.
_Foss._ Hugh, bring me a pint of sack; let your mistress know I want to see her. Take care that her orders be obey'd, and that her trunks and boxes be immediately brought hither. Sa.r.s.et will give you directions.
[_Exit Hugh. Fossile sits down on a couch._
Ah Fossile! if the cares of two hours of a married life have so reduc'd thee, how long can'st thou hold out! to watch a wife all day, and have her wake thee all night! 'twill never do. The fitigue of three fevers, six small poxes, and five great ones, is nothing to that of one wife.
Now for my touch-stone; I will try it upon her presently. If she bear it to day--I am afraid she will bear it to morrow too.
_Enter Hugh with a bottle of sack, and after him Townley. Hugh gives the bottle and gla.s.s to Fossile and exit._
Sit down by me, my dear, I was going to refresh myself with a gla.s.s of canary. You look pale. It will do you good.
_Town._ Faugh. Wine in the morning!
[_Fossile drinks and fills again, and drops some of the liquor into the gla.s.s._]
What is the meaning of this? am I to be poison'd.
[_aside._
_Foss._ You must drink it. Sack is sacred to Hymen; of it is made the nuptial posset.
_Town._ Don't press me, Mr. Fossile, I nauseate it. It smells strangely.
There is something in it.
_Foss._ An ill symptom! she can't bear the smell. [_aside._] Pray, my dear, oblige me.
_Town._ I'm for none of your flops. I'll fill myself.
_Foss._ I must own, I have put some restorative drops in it, which are excellent. I may drink it safely. [_aside._] [_drinks._] The next gla.s.s I prepare for you.
[_Fills, and powers some drops in._
[_Townley drinks. Fossile runs behind to support her; then pores upon her cheek, and touches it with his finger._