Clean. Ask not, with unassisting pity; bow him forward.
Rub his numbed temples, while I wipe the sweat
From his cold clammy face.
Panth. His mounting heart
Bounces against my hands, as if it would
Thrust off his manly soul.
Clean. Wrench ope his mouth,
While I infuse these sovereign drops, whose power
Will soon recall his wandered sense—
[He instills somewhat out of a Vial into his Mouth.