Thursday, October 11, 2012

Will is ill...

O my deare groundlyngs…I do but sense that I have an ague. If canst not rouse me from mine bed soone, I shall call on the Doctor of physicke, though I do loathe to carry me hence. He hath such strange instruments on the table of his chambers, and I do but shiver at the sight of them. And what of thee? Dost have a remedie thou seekest when thou art feverish?

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