Val. The air,
The sharp and nipping air of our new climate
I hope is all, which will as well restore
To health again th' affected body by it,
And make it stronger far, as leave it dangerous;
How do's my sweet, our blessed hour comes on now
Apace my Cellide, (it knocks at door)
In which our loves, and long desires like rivers
Rising asunder far, shall fall together,
Within these [two] daies dear.
Cel. When heaven, and you Sir
Shall think it fit: for by your wills I am govern'd.
Alice. 'Twere good some preparation.
Enter Frank.
Val. All that may be:
It shall be no blind wedding: and all the joy
Of all our friends I hope: he looks worse hourly,
How does my friend, my self? he sweats too coldly,
His pulse, like the slow dropping of a spowt,
Scarce gives his function: how is't man, alas Sir,
You look extreme ill: is it any old grief,
The weight of which?
Fra. None, gentle Sir, that I feel,
Your love is too too tender,
Nay believe Sir.
Cel. You cannot be the master of your health,
Either some feaver lyes in wait to catch ye,
Whose harbinger's already in your face
We see preparing: or some discontent,
Which if it lye in this house, I dare say
Both for this noble Gentleman, and all
That live within it, shall as readily
Be purg'd away, and with as much care soften'd,
And where the cause is.
Fran. 'Tis a joy to be ill,
Where such a vertuous fair Physitian
Is ready to relieve: your noble cares
I must, and ever shall be thankfull for,
And would my service (I dare not look upon her)
But be not fearfull, I feel nothing dangerous,
A grudging caus'd by th' alteration
Of air, may hang upon me: my heart's whole,
(I would it were.)
Val. I knew the cause to be so.
Fra. No, you shall never know it.