Doct. Very little Sir.
And that too very choice.
Vil. Your King never sleeps Brother,
He must not sleep, his cares still keep him waking.
Now he that eats and drinks much is a dormouse;
The third part of a wafer is a weeks diet.
Cast. Appoint me something then.
Doct. There.
Cast. This I feel good,
But it melts too suddainly; yet, how, that gone too!
Ye are not mad! I charge you. [take away.
Doct. For your health Sir,
A little quickens nature, much depresses.
Cast. Eat nothing for my health? that's a new dyet,
Let me have something, something has some savor.
Why thou uncourteous Doctor, shall I hang thee?
Doct. 'Tis better Sir than I should let you surfeit,
My death were nothing.
Vil. To loose a King, were terrible.
Cast. Nay, then I'll carve my self, I'll stay no ceremonies.
This is a Patridge Pye, I am sure that's nourishing,
Or Galen is an Ass: 'tis rarely season'd:
Ha Doctor have I hit right? a mark a mark there? [take away.