DOCTOR. I 'll tell you. In those that are possess'd with 't there o'erflows Such melancholy humour they imagine Themselves to be transformed into wolves; Steal forth to church-yards in the dead of night, And dig dead bodies up: as two nights since One met the duke 'bout midnight in a lane Behind Saint Mark's church, with the leg of a man Upon his shoulder; and he howl'd fearfully; Said he was a wolf, only the difference Was, a wolf's skin was hairy on the outside, His on the inside; bade them take their swords, Rip up his flesh, and try. Straight I was sent for, And, having minister'd to him, found his grace Very well recover'd. PESCARA. I am glad on 't. DOCTOR. Yet not without some fear Of a relapse. If he grow to his fit again, I 'll go a nearer way to work with him Than ever Paracelsus dream'd of; if They 'll give me leave, I 'll buffet his madness out of him. Stand aside; he comes. [Enter FERDINAND, CARDINAL, MALATESTI, and BOSOLA] FERDINAND. Leave me. MALATESTI. Why doth your lordship love this solitariness? FERDINAND. Eagles commonly fly alone: they are crows, daws, and starlings that flock together. Look, what 's that follows me? MALATESTI. Nothing, my lord. FERDINAND. Yes. MALATESTI. 'Tis your shadow. FERDINAND. Stay it; let it not haunt me. MALATESTI. Impossible, if you move, and the sun shine. FERDINAND. I will throttle it. [Throws himself down on his shadow.] MALATESTI. O, my lord, you are angry with nothing. FERDINAND. You are a fool: how is 't possible I should catch my shadow, unless I fall upon 't? When I go to hell, I mean to carry a bribe; for, look you, good gifts evermore make way for the worst persons. PESCARA. Rise, good my lord. FERDINAND. I am studying the art of patience. PESCARA. 'Tis a noble virtue. FERDINAND. To drive six snails before me from this town to Moscow; neither use goad nor whip to them, but let them take their own time; --the patient'st man i' th' world match me for an experiment:-- an I 'll crawl after like a sheep-biter.[125] CARDINAL. Force him up. [They raise him.] FERDINAND. Use me well, you were best. What I have done, I have done: I 'll confess nothing. DOCTOR. Now let me come to him.--Are you mad, my lord? are you out of your princely wits? FERDINAND. What 's he? PESCARA. Your doctor. FERDINAND. Let me have his beard saw'd off, and his eye-brows fil'd more civil. DOCTOR. I must do mad tricks with him, for that 's the only way on 't.--I have brought your grace a salamander's skin to keep you from sun-burning. FERDINAND. I have cruel sore eyes. DOCTOR. The white of a cockatrix's[126] egg is present remedy.