[178] King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place! [Exit.
[179] Biron. Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart.
[180] Ros. Pray you, do my commendations; I would be
glad to see it.
Biron. I would you heard it groan.
[183] Ros. Is the fool sick?
Biron. Sick at the heart.
185 Ros. Alack, let it blood.
Biron. Would that do it good?
Ros. My physic says ‘ay’.