PRELUDIUM.
SCENE.—An Apartment in the House of Francis Moore, in which that renowned Physician and Astrologer is discovered, lying at the point of death. The Nurse is holding up his head, while a skilful Mediciner is dispensing a potion. Sundry Old Women surround his couch, in an agony of grief. The Astrologer starteth up in a paroxysm of rage.
Moore. "Throw physic to the dogs," I'll gulp no more.
I'm done for: my prophetic life is o'er.
Who are these hags? and wherefore come they here?
Old Women. Alack! he raves, and knows us not, poor dear!
To think he should his only friends forget!
Who've fostered him, and made him quite a pet.
Moore. Begone, ye beldames! wherefore do ye howl?
Old Women. We've come to comfort your unhappy sowl.