No keyword-matching excerpt could be extracted (the cluster label doesn't share vocabulary with this character's speech).
Full speech
I tell you truth: Alas, you know I have no ends of profit, I practice not for wealth. I have cured her melancholy; but she's a tother side Now extreme merry, dance and sing, all air. Sir, I could not Kill the malignity of her melancholy Another way; extremities must be cured With extreme applications: my next work Shall be to abate this levity of her brain, And qualify her spleen, Sir, by degrees; So state her body in that modest temper She was possessed of. You must have patience A month or so, she is not mad, but merry, Some few vagaries; you must understand I have opened, Sir, her fancy, wherein lay All her imaginations confused, And on a heap, smothered for want of vent; And now the spirits that were imprisoned Rush out, which causes all her faculties, Before oppressed, to exercise so strangely, As the agitation of her tongue will manifest She's here. I'll so proportion it, she shall never wake: I did it for a Merchant's wife last week, Which loved a Knight: a great man, not long since Was weary of his Countess, and I cured him So artificially of his disease. But collects nothing; all her senses are scattered. Is't not some complaint, think you? Best make fast her Chamber. will not some money qualify your haste? I'll take my leave; Have comfort, sir, this cloud may soon blow over. Exit.