Enter PHILOMUSUS, THEODORE, his patient, the
    BURGESS, and his man with his staff.

THEODORE. [Puts on his spectacles.] Monsieur, here are atomi natantes, which do make show your worship to be as lecherous as a bull.

BURGESS. 
Truly, Master Doctor, we are all men.

THEODORE.  This vater is intention of heat:  are you not perturbed with an ache in your vace[78] or in your occipit?  I mean your headpiece.  Let me feel the pulse of your little finger.

BURGESS.  I’ll assure you, Master Theodore, the pulse of my head beats exceedingly; and I think I have disturbed myself by studying the penal statutes.

THEODORE. 
Tit, tit, your worship takes care of your speeches.
O, Curae leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent:  it is an aphorism in Galen.

BURGESS. 
And what is the exposition of that?

THEODORE. 
That your worship must take a gland, ut emittatur sanguis:  the sign
is fort excellent, fort excellent.

BURGESS.  Good Master Doctor, use me gently; for, mark you, sir, there is a double consideration to be had of me:  first, as I am a public magistrate; secondly, as I am a private butcher; and but for the worshipful credit of the place and office wherein I now stand and live, I would not hazard my worshipful apparel with a suppository or a glister:  but for the countenancing of the place, I must go oftener to stool; for, as a great gentleman told me, of good experience, that it was the chief note of a magistrate not to go to the stool without a physician.

THEODORE. 
Ah, vous etes un gentilhomme, vraiment.—­What, ho, Jaques!  Jaques,
donnez-vous un fort gentil purgation for Monsieur Burgess.

JAQUES. 
Votre tres-humble serviteur, a votre commandment.

THEODORE.  Donnez-vous un gentil purge a Monsieur Burgess.—­I have considered of the crasis and syntoma of your disease, and here is un fort gentil purgation per evacuationem excrementorum, as we physicians use to parley.

BURGESS.  I hope, Master Doctor, you have a care of the country’s officer.  I tell you, I durst not have trusted myself with every physician; and yet I am not afraid for myself, but I would not deprive the town of so careful a magistrate.

THEODORE.  O Monsieur, I have a singular care of your valetudo.  It is requisite that the French physicians be learned and careful; your English velvet-cap is malignant and envious.

BURGESS. 
Here is, Master Doctor, fourpence—­your due, and eightpence—­my bounty. 
You shall hear from me, good Master Doctor; farewell, farewell, good
Master Doctor.

THEODORE. 
Adieu, good Monsieur; adieu, good sir Monsieur. Exit BURGESS. 
Then burst with tears, unhappy graduate;
Thy fortunes still wayward and backward been;
Nor canst thou thrive by virtue nor by sin.