Lieu. Your Father would desire ye, Sir, to come to dinner.
Dem. Thou art no more.
Lieu. Now, now, now, now.
Dem. Poor Coxcomb: Why do I aim at thee? [Exit.
Leo. His fear has kill'd him.
Enter Leucippe with a Bowl.
2 Gent. I protest he's almost stiff: bend him and rub him, Hold his Nose close, you, if you be a woman, Help us a little: here's a man near perish'd.
Leu. Alas alas, I have nothing here about me. Look to my Bowl; I'll run in presently And fetch some water: bend him, and set him upwards.
Leo. A goodly man— [Exit. Here's a brave heart: he's warm again: you shall not Leave us i'th' lurch so, Sirrah.
2 Gent. Now he breaths too.