Lucr. May you still be admir’d as you deserve!
Enter Sir Patient with Writings, and Isabella.
Sir Pat. How, Madam Lucretia, and in Tears?
L. Kno. A little disgusted, Sir, with her Father-in-law, Sir.
Sir Pat. Oh, is that all? hold up thy Head, Sweet-heart, thy turn’s next.—Here, Madam, I surrender my Title, with these Writings, and with ’em my Joy, my Life, my Darling, my Leander.—Now let’s away, where’s Mr. Fainlove?
Isab. He’s but stept into Cheapside, to fit the Ring, Sir, [and will] be here immediately.
Sir Pat. I have Business anon about eleven of the Clock, a Consultation of Physicians, to confer about this Carcase of mine.
Lean. Physicians, Sir, what to do?
Sir Pat. To do! why, to take their advice, Sir, and to follow it.
Lean. For what, I beseech you, Sir?