La. Oh, there is no rack nor torture like it. What shall I do? I shall never sleepe agen.
Ri. Which tooth ist?
Do.—The sweet one you may be sure which troubles her.
La. This, this, O that there.
Ri. They are happie that are old and have no teeth.
La. Oh, take heed, now it shoots up to my head.
Ri. Thou dost make my head ake with the noise.
La. If you knew what I suffer your head would ake indeed. I must rise and walke in the Chamber; there is no remedy.
Ri. You will catch more cold.
La. Oh, no, no, deere life, do not crosse me; and you were in my torment you would rise and trie any thing for a little ease. It cannot be worse; the paine sure came with a cold, and who knowes but an other cold may cure me.