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. FERDINAND. Let it be a new-laid one, you were best. Hide me from him: physicians are like kings,— They brook no contradiction. DOCTOR. Now he begins to fear me: now let me alone with him. CARDINAL. How now! put off your gown! DOCTOR. Let me have some forty urinals filled with rosewater: he and I 'll go pelt one another with them.—Now he begins to fear me.—Can you fetch a frisk,[127] sir?—Let him go, let him go, upon my peril: I find by his eye he stands in awe of me; I 'll make him as tame as a dormouse. FERDINAND. Can you fetch your frisks, sir!—I will stamp him into a cullis,[128] flay off his skin to cover one of the anatomies[129] this rogue hath set i' th' cold yonder in Barber-Chirurgeon's-hall. —Hence, hence! you are all of you like beasts for sacrifice. [Throws the DOCTOR down and beats him.] There 's nothing left of you but tongue and belly, flattery and lechery. [Exit.] PESCARA. Doctor, he did not fear you thoroughly. DOCTOR. True; I was somewhat too forward. BOSOLA. Mercy upon
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