CORNEGO
Assa foetida? What's that?
BALTHAZARA
A thing to be taken in a glister-pipe <38>.
CORNEGO
Why, what ails my Lady?
BALTHAZAR What ails she? Why when she cries out, Solus Rex me facit miseram, she says in the Hypocronicall <39> language, that she is so miserably tormented with the wind colic that it racks her very soul.
CORNEGO
I said somewhat cut her soul in pieces.
BALTHAZAR
But go to her, and say the oven is heating.
CORNEGO
And what shall be baked in't?
BALTHAZAR Carp pies.<40> And besides, tell her the hole in her coat shall be mended, and tell her if the dial of good days <41> goes true, why then bounce buckrum.<42>
CORNEGO
The devil lies sick of the mulligrubs.<43>
BALTHAZAR
Or the Cony is dub'd, and three sheepskins …