Alice. He grows fainter.
Val. Come, lead him in, he shall to bed: a vomit,
I'le have a vomit for him.
Alice. A purge first,
And if he breath'd a vein.
Val. No, no, no bleeding,
A Clyster will cool all.
Cel. Be of good cheer Sir.
Alice. He's loth to speak.
Cel. How hard he holds my hand aunt!
Alice. I do not like that sign.
Val. Away to's chamber,
Softly, he's full of pain, be diligent
With all the care ye have: would I had scus'd him.
[Exeunt.