2 Phys.  They are indeed, and they doe farre exceede—­

1 Phys.  All the great curious Cataphlasmes,
Or the live taile of a deplum[e]d Henne,
Or your hot Pigeons or your quartered whelpes;[162]
For they by a meere forc’d attractive power
Retaine that safely which by force was drawne,
Whereas the other things I nam’d before
Do lose their vertue as they lose their heat.

2 Phys.  The ventosities shall be our next intensions.

Anton.  Pray, Gentlemen, attend his Highnesse.

King.  Your next intentions be to drowne your selves: 
Dogge-leaches all!  I see I am not mortall,
For I with patience have thus long endur’d
Beyond the strength of all mortality;
But now the thrice heate furnace of my bosome
Disdaineth bounds:  doe not I scorch you all? 
Goe, goe, you are all but prating Mountebankes,
Quack-salvers and Imposures; get you all from me.

2 Phys.  These Ventosities, my lord, will give you ease.

King.  A vengeance on thy Ventosities and thee!

    Enter Eugenius.

Anton.  The Bishop, Sir, is come.

King.  Christian, thy blood Must give me ease and helpe.

Eugen.  Drinke then thy fill: 
None of the Fathers that begot sweet Physick,
That Divine Lady, comforter to man,
Invented such a medicine as man’s blood;
A drinke so pretious should not be so spilt: 
Take mine, and Heaven pardon you the guilt.

King.  A Butcher! see his throat cut.

Eugen.  I am so farre from shrinking that mine owne hands
Shall bare my throat; and am so farre from wishing
Ill to you that mangle me, that before
My blood shall wash these Rushes,
King, I will cure thee.

1 Phys.  You cure him?

King.  Speak on, fellow.

Eugen.  If I doe not Restore your limbs to soundnesse, drive the poyson From the infected part, study your tortures To teare me peece-meale yet be kept alive.

King.  O reverent man, come neare me; worke this wonder,
Aske gold, honours, any, any thing
The sublunary treasures of this world
Can yeeld, and they are thine.

Eugen.  I will doe nothing without a recompence.

King.  A royall one.

Omnes.  Name what you would desire.

King.  Stand by; you trouble him.  A recompence can my Crowne bring thee, take it; Reach him my Crowne and plant it on his head.

Eugen.  No; here’s my bargaine—­

King.  Quickly, oh speake quickly.—­ Off with the good man’s Irons.

Eugen.  Free all those Christians which are now thy slaves,
In all thy Cittadels, Castles, Fortresses;
Those in Bellanna and Mersaganna,
Those in Alempha and in Hazanoth,
Those in thy Gallies, those in thy Iayles and Dungeons.