Lieu. I'th' mind I am in.
Leo. Nor never be sick again?
Lieu. I hope I shall not.
Leo. Prethee be sick again: prethee, I beseech thee, Be just so sick again.
Lieu. I'le just be hang'd first.
Leo. If all the Arts that are can make a Colique, Therefore look to't: or if imposthumes, mark me, As big as foot-balls—
Lieu. Deliver me.
Leo. Or stones of ten pound weight i'th' kidneys,
Through ease and ugly dyets may be gather'd;
I'le feed ye up my self Sir, I'le prepare ye,
You cannot fight, unless the Devil tear ye,
You shall not want provocations, I'le scratch ye,
I'le have thee have the tooth-ach, and the head-ach.
Lieu. Good Colonel, I'le doe any thing.
Leo. No, no, nothing—
Then will I have thee blown with a pair of Smiths bellows,
Because ye shall be sure to have a round gale with ye,
Fill'd full of oyle o'Devil, and Aqua-fortis,
And let these work, these may provoke.