Will. (bowing) Behold this little Viol, which contains in its narrow Bounds what the whole Universe cannot purchase, if sold to its true Value; this admirable, this miraculous Elixir, drawn from the Hearts of Mandrakes, Phenix Livers, and Tongues of [Maremaids], and distill’d by contracted Sun-Beams, has besides the unknown Virtue of curing all Distempers both of Mind and Body, that divine one of animating the Heart of Man to that Degree, that however remiss, cold and cowardly by Nature, he shall become vigorous and brave. Oh stupid and insensible Man, when Honour and secure Renown invites you, to treat it with Neglect, even when you need but passive Valour, to become the Heroes of the Age; receive a thousand Wounds, each of which wou’d let out fleeting Life: Here’s that can snatch the parting Soul in its full Career, and bring it back to its native Mansion; baffles grim Death, and disappoints even Fate.
Feth. Oh Pox, [an a Man] were sure of that now—
Will. Behold, here’s Demonstration— [Harlequin stabs himself, [and falls] as dead.
Feth. Hold, hold, why, what the Devil is the Fellow mad?
Blunt. Why, do’st think he has hurt himself?
Feth. Hurt himself! why, he’s murder’d, Man; ’tis flat Felo de se, in any ground in England, if I understand Law, and I have been a Justice o’th’ Peace.
Will. See, Gentlemen, he’s dead—
Feth. Look ye there now, I’ll be gone lest I be taken as an Accessary. [Going out.
Will. Coffin him, inter him, yet after four and twenty Hours, as many Drops of this divine Elixir give him new Life again; this will recover whole Fields of slain, and all the Dead shall rise and fight again—’twas this that made the Roman Lemons numerous, and now makes France so formidable, and this alone—may be the Occasion of the loss of Germany. [Pours in Harlequin’s Wound, he rises.
Feth. Why this Fellow’s the Devil, Ned, that’s for certain.