Theo. What will she say.
Eug. Come Gentlemen, I pray you lend your ears,
And keep your voyces.
Leo. Signior Mark-antonio
How do you do?
Mar. Oh the Surgeons.
Leoc. Let me tell you
Who know as well as you, you do dissemble,
It is no time to do so; leave the thoughts
Of this vain world, forget your flesh and blood,
And make your spirit an untroubled way
To pass to what it ought.
Mar. Y're not in earnest?
Why I can walk Sir, and am well.
Leoc. 'Tis true
That you can walk, and do believe y're well:
It is the nature, as your Surgeons say
Of these wounds, for a man to go, and talk,
Nay merrily, till his last hour, his minute:
For heaven sake Sir, sit down again.
Mar. Alass
Where are the Surgeons?
Leoc. Sir, they will not come,
If they should dress you, you would dye they say
Ere one would tell twenty; trouble not your mind,
Keep your head warm, and do not stir your body,
And you may live an hour.
Mar. Oh heavens, an hour?
Alass, it is to[o] little t[o] remember
But half the wrongs that I have done; how short
Then for contrition, and how least of all
For satisfaction?