_Eug._ Forbear, Thou wert but now as welcome to this house As certain cures to sick men, and just now This sudain alteration makes thee look Like plagues come to infect it; if thou knewst How loathsome thou wilt be, thou wouldst intreat These wals, or posts to help thee to a hurt, Past thy d[i]ssimulation. _Mar._ Gentle Madam Call 'em not in? _Eug._ I will not yet, this place I know to be within the reach of tongue, And ears, thou canst not force me; therefore hear me What I will tell thee quickly, thou art born To end some way more disesteem'd than this, Or which is worse, to dye of this hurt yet. Come Gentlemen. _Enter_ Leocadia. _Mar._ Good Madam. _Eug._ Gentlemen. _Leoc._ Madam how is't? is _Mark-antonio_ well? Methinks your looks are alter'd, and I see A strange distemper in you. _Eug._ I am wrought By that dissembling man, that fellow worth Nothing but kicking. _Enter_ Philippo _and_ Theodosia. _Leo._ Gentle Madam speak To me alone let not them understand His fault, he will repent [it] I dare swear. _Eug._ I'll tell it you in private. _Phil. Mark-antonio_, How do you? _Mar._ Stand farther off I pray you Give me some ayre. _Theo._ Good Brother, will he scape, The Surgeons say there is no danger. _Phil._ Scape? No doubt he will. _Leo._ Alas will he not leave This trying all; Madam, I do beseech you Let me but speak to him, you and these by, And I dare almost promise you to make him Shew himself truly sorrowful to you, besides a story I shall open to you, Not put in so good words but in it self So full of chance, that you will easily Forgive my tediousness, and be well pleas'd With that so much afflicts me. _Eug._ Good Sir do. _Leo._ And I desire no interruption Of speech may trouble me till I have said What I will quickly do. _Theo._ What will she say. _Eug._ Come Gentlemen, I pray you lend your ears, And keep your voyces. _Leo._ Signior _Mark-antonio_ How do you do? _Mar._ Oh the Surgeons. _Leoc._ Let me tell you Who know as well as you, you do dissemble, It is no time to do so; leave the thoughts Of this vain world, forget your flesh and blood, And make your spirit an untroubled way To pass to what it ought. _Mar._ Y're not in earnest? Why I can walk Sir, and am well. _Leoc._ 'Tis true That you can walk, and do believe y're well: It is the nature, as your Surgeons say Of these wounds, for a man to go, and talk, Nay merrily, till his last hour, his minute: For heaven sake Sir, sit down again. _Mar._ Alass Where are the Surgeons?