Ri. So, so, the wench inclines. I will hasten my journey that I may appear with more excuse when they are married in my absence.
Enter Captaine and Engine.
Cap. Sir, I heare you are for London presentlie; It will concerne you take this gentleman Along w'ee to bee cur'd.
Ri. Mr. Engine sick!
Cap. Oh, sir,
Dangerously; he has purg'd his stomack, but the ill spiritts
Are flowne into his head and spoild his eares.
He was ever troubled with Devices in his head;
I stronglie feare he must have his scull open'd,
His brains are very foule within. I know
And can direct you to an excle'nt Surgeon.
En. I cannot heare you, Captaine—
Cap. One that has a rare dexteritie at lanceing
Or opening of a stomack that has crudities;
So neat at separation of a limbe
And quartering of treason.
Ri. You meane the hangman?
Cap. He has practised late to mend his hand, and now With the very wind and flourish of his instrument He will strike flatt a projector at twelve score.
Ri. Does he not heare you?