3. How came he so?
Bawdb. They are too wise that dare know,
Something's amiss, heaven help all.
1. What cure has he?
Bawdb. Armies of those we call Physitians, some with glisters,
Some with Lettice-caps, some posset-drinks, some Pills,
Twenty consulting here about a drench,
[As many here to blood him;
Then comes a Don of Spaine, and he prescribes
More cooling opium then would kill a turke,
Or quench a whore ith dogdayes; after him
A wise Italian, and he cries, tie unto him
A woman of fourescore, whose bones are marble,
Whose bloud snow water, not so much heate about her
As may conceive a prayer: after him
An English Doctor, with a bunch of pot hearbes;
And he cries out Endiffe and suckery,
With a few mallow rootes and butter milke,
And talkes of oyle made of a churchmans charity,
Yet still he wakes.
1. But your good honor
Has a praye[r] in store if all should faile.
Bawdb. I could have prayed, and handsomely,
But age and an ill memory.
3. Has spoyl'd your primmer.
Bawdb. Yet if there be a man of faith i'the Court,
And can pray for a pension.
Enter Thierry, on a bed, with Doctors and attendants.
2. Here's the King Sir,
And those that will pray without pay.