Ant. Come goe along, my wife is comming yonder
E.Dro. Mistris respice finem, respect your end, or rather the prophesie like the Parrat, beware the ropes end
Anti. Wilt thou still talke?
Beats Dro.
Curt. How say you now? Is not your husband mad?
Adri. His inciuility confirmes no lesse:
Good Doctor Pinch, you are a Coniurer,
Establish him in his true sence againe,
And I will please you what you will demand
Luc. Alas how fiery, and how sharpe he lookes
Cur. Marke, how he trembles in his extasie
Pinch. Giue me your hand, and let mee feele your pulse
Ant. There is my hand, and let it feele your eare
Pinch. I charge thee Sathan, hous'd within this man,
To yeeld possession to my holie praiers,
And to thy state of darknesse hie thee straight,
I coniure thee by all the Saints in heauen