Ber. Why then I'll undertake to prescribe you a Cure.
Lov. Alas, you undertake you know not what.
Ber. So far at least then allow me to be a Physician.
Lov. Nay, I'll allow you so yet farther: For I have reason to believe, shou'd I put myself into your Hands, you wou'd increase my Distemper.
Ber. Perhaps I might have Reasons from the College not to be too quick in your Cure; but 'tis possible, I might find ways to give you often Ease, Sir.
Lov. Were I but sure of that, I'd quickly lay my Case before you.
Ber. Whether you are sure of it or no, what Risk do you run in trying?
Lov. O, a very great one.
Ber. How?