_Alph._ My bed will burn about me, Like _Phaeton_, in all consuming flashes I am inclosed, let me fly, let me fly, give room; Betwixt the cold Bear, and the raging Lyon Lyes my safe way; O for a cake of Ice now, To clap unto my heart to comfort me; Decrepit Winter hang upon my shoulders, And let me wear thy frozen Isicles Like Jewels round about my head, to cool me; My eyes burn out, and sink into their sockets, And my infected brain like brimstone boils, I live in Hell, and several furies vex me; O carry me where no Sun ever shew'd yet A face of comfort, where the earth is Crystal, Never to be dissolv'd, where naught inhabits But night and cold, and nipping frosts, and winds That cut the stubborn rocks and make them shiver; Set me there friends. _Rug._ Hold fast, he must to bed, Fryer, what scalding sweats he has! _Mar._ He'll scald in Hell for't, that was the cause. _Alph._ Drink, drink, a world of drink, Fill all the cups and all the antick vessels, And borrow pots, let me have drink enough, Bring all the worthy drunkards of the time, The experienc'd drunkards, let me have them all, And let them drink their worst, I'le make them Ideots, I'le lye upon my Back and swallow Vessels; Have Rivers made of cooling Wine run through me, Not stay for this mans health, or this great Princes, But take an Ocean, and begin to all; Oh, oh. _Mar._ He cools a little, now away with him, And to his warm bed presently. _Alph._ No drink? no wind? no cooling air? _Rug._ You shall have any thing. His hot fit lessens, Heaven put in a hand now, And save his life; there's drink Sir in your chamber, And all cool things. _Alph._ Away, away, let's fly to 'em. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ Valerio _and_ Evanthe. _Evan._ To say you were impotent, I am asham'd on't, To make your self no man, to a fresh Maid too, A longing Maid, upon her wedding night also, To give her such a dor. _Val._ I prethee pardon me. _Evan._ Had you been drunk, 't had been excusable, Or like a Gentleman under the Surgions hands, And so not able, there had been some colour, But wretchedly to take a weakness to ye, A fearful weakness, to abuse your body, And let a lye work like a spell upon ye, A lye, to save your life. _Val._ Will you give me leave, sweet? _Ev._ You have taken too much leave, and too base leave too, To wrong your love; hast thou a noble spirit? And canst thou look up to the peoples loves, That call thee worthy, and not blush, _Valerio_? Canst thou behold me that thou hast betray'd thus, And no shame touch thee? _Val._ Shame attend the sinful, I know my innocence.