_Pes._ Now, doctor, may I visit your patient? _Doc._ If't please your lordship: but he's instantly To take the air here in the gallery By my direction. _Pes._ Pray thee, what's his disease? _Doc._ A very pestilent disease, my lord, They call lycanthropia. _Pes._ What's that? I need a dictionary to't. _Doc._ I'll tell you. In those that are possessed with't there o'erflows Such melancholy humour they imagine Themselves to be transformed into wolves; Steal forth to churchyards 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 howled 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 ministered to him, found his grace Very well recovered. _Pes._ I am glad on't. _Doc._ 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 dreamed 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. _Ferd._ Leave me. _Mal._ Why doth your lordship love this solitariness? _Ferd._ Eagles commonly fly alone: they are crows, daws, and starlings that flock together. Look, what's that follows me? _Mal._ Nothing, my lord. _Ferd._ Yes. _Mal._ 'Tis your shadow. _Ferd._ Stay it; let it not haunt me. _Mal._ Impossible, if you move, and the sun shine. _Ferd._ I will throttle it. [_Throws himself down on his shadow._ _Mal._ O, my lord, you are angry with nothing. _Ferd._ 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. _Pes._ Rise, good my lord. _Ferd._ I am studying the art of patience. _Pes._ 'Tis a noble virtue. _Ferd._ 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' the world match me for an experiment;--and I'll crawl after like a sheep-biter. _Card._ Force him up. [_They raise him._ _Ferd._ Use me well, you were best. What I have done, I have done: I'll confess nothing. _Doc._ Now let me come to him.--Are you mad, my lord? are you out of your princely wits? _Ferd._ What's he? _Pes._ Your doctor. _Ferd._ Let me have his beard sawed off, and his eyebrows filed more civil. _Doc._ 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. _Ferd._ I have cruel sore eyes. _Doc._ The white of a cockatrix's egg is present remedy.