Phys. Good Sir patience.
Eudo. What have ye given him?
Phys. Pretious things dear Lady
We hope shall comfort him.
Emp. O flatter'd fool,
See what thy god-head's come to: Oh Eudoxia.
Eudo. O patience, patience Sir.
Enter Proculus, Licinius, with Aretus.
Emp. Danubius
I'le have brought through my body.
Eudo. Gods give comfort.
Emp. And Volga, on whose face the North wind freezes,
I find an hundred hells, a hundred Piles
Already to my Funerals are flaming,
Shall I not drink?