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WHere's Mr. Doctor? I herd they were out. I believed it, And gave it out too. Dinner! Death! That he will eat now, having such a business, That so concerns him! Oh twenty millions, To a Physician, that's in practice: I Do bring him news, from all the points of the Compass, (That's all the parts of the sublunary Globe.) Of times, and double times. And they follow him. He feels, there's life in him. Indeed your worship should do well to advice him, To cleanse his body, all the three high ways; That is, by Sweat, Purge, and Phlebatomy. Why, is't not true? Was she not in labour? The Midwife sent for? There's your error now! You have drunk of the same water. Is't possible? Our Doctors Vrinall-Judgement is halfe-crack'd then. Of what? Disgrace? The Doctor shall reverse his, instantly, And set all right again: if you'll assist But in a toy; Squire Needle, comes in my nodle now. Why, but to go to bed: feign a distemper Of walking i'your sleep, or talking in't A little idly, but so much, as on' it, The Doctor may have ground, to raise a cure For's reputation. I cannot hold him down. He's up, and walks, And talks in his perfect sleep, with his eyes shut, As sensibly, as he were broad awake. He is up again, Enter Item. And begins to talk. The treasure, and the Lady: That's his argument. Sir Diaphanous, And Mr. Bias, his Court-friend's, desire To kiss his Nieces hands, and gratulate The firm recovery of her good fame, And honour— The first step he stepped Into the Garden, he pulled these five pieces Up, in a fingers breath one of another. The dirt sticks on them still. He's pricked away, now he has done the work. The water saved him, 'twas a fair escape. What had she then? only a fit o'the Mother, They burned old shoes, Goose-feathers, Assafoetida, A few horn shavings, with a bone, or two, And she is well again, about the house;— See what he does; if he bring you A'ssay of it now.