le give her faith. Pray, Sir, doe but marke
These black Hypostacies;[159] it plainely shewes
Mortification generally through the spirits;
And you may finde the Pulse to shew as much
By his uncertainty of time and strength.

2 _Phys_. We finde the spirits often suffisticated
By many accidents, but yet not mortified;
A sudden feare will doe it.

1 _Phys_. Very right;
But there's no malitious humour mixt
As in the king: Sir, you must understand
A Scorpion stung him: now a Scorpion is
A small compacted creature in whom Earth
Hath the predominance, but mixt with fire,
So that in him _Saturne_ and _Mars_ doe meet.
This little Creature hath his severall humours,
And these their excrements; these met together,
Enflamed by anger, made a deadly poison;
And by how much the creatures body's lesse
By so much is the force of Venome more,
As Lightning through a windows Casement
Hurts more than that which enters at the doore.

2 _Phys_. But for the way to cure it?

1 _Phys_. I know none;
Yet Ancient Writers have prescrib'd us many:
As _Theophrastus_ holds most excellent
Diophoratick[160] Medicines to expell
Ill vapours from the noble parts by sweate;
But _Avices_ and also _Rabby Roses_[161]
Doe thinke it better by provoking Urin,
Since by the Urine blood may well be purg'd,
And spirits from the blood have nutriment,
But for my part I ever held opinion
In such a case the Ventosities are best.

2 _Phys_. They are indeed, and they doe farre exceede--

1 _Phys_. All the great curious Cataphlasmes,
Or the live taile of a deplum[e]d Henne,
Or your hot Pigeons or your quartered whelpes;[162]
For they by a meere forc'd attractive power
Retaine that safely which by force was drawne,
Whereas the other things I nam'd before
Do lose their vertue as they lose their heat.

2 _Phys_. The ventosities shall be our next intensions.

_Anton_. Pray, Gentlemen, attend his Highnesse.

_King_. Your next intentions be to drowne your selves:
Dogge-leaches all! I see I am not mortall,
For I with patience have thus long endur'd
Beyond the strength of all mortality;
But now the thrice heate furnace of my bosome
Disdaineth bounds: doe not I scorch you all?
Goe, goe, you are all but prating Mountebankes,
Quack-salvers and Imposures; get you all from me.

2 _Phys_. These Ventosities, my lord, will give you ease.

_King_. A vengeance on thy Ventosities and thee!

_Enter Eugenius_.

_Anton_. The Bishop, Sir, is come.

_King_. Chris