Omnes. Good.
Med. Dispatch then; be quicke.
Bal. As Lightning. [Exit.
Alb. This fellow is some Angell drop'd from heaven To preserve Innocence.
Med. He is a wheele
Of swift and turbulent motion; I have trusted him,
Yet will not hang on him to many plummets
Lest with a headlong Cyre (Gyre?) he ruines all.
In these State-consternations, when a kingdome
Stands tottering at the Center, out of suspition
Safety growes often. Let us suspect this fellow;
And that, albeit he shew us the Kings hand,
It may be but a tricke.
Daen. Your Lordship hits
A poyson'd nayle i'th head: this waxen fellow
(By the Kings hand so bribing him with gold)
Is set on skrews, perhaps is made his Creature
To turne round every way.
Med. Out of that feare Will I beget truth; for my selfe in person Will sound the Kings brest.
Carl. How! your selfe in person.
Alb. That's half the prize he gapes for.
Med. I'le venture it,
And come off well, I warrant you, and rip up
His very entrailes, cut in two his heart
And search each corner in't; yet shall not he
Know who it is cuts up th'Anatomy.