O dear! I saw Master Stacker, the court physician
that was, to-day. [Coughs.] Oh, I am very ill.

_Flor._ Dear father! what said he?

_Sir Sim._ That I have a disease of the heart. Now
I don't agree with him. There he is mistaken. Why
I might die instantly with a disease of the heart.
He is a clever man, but quite mistaken there. You
see, my heart never beats fast, but when I am
agitated, and I was out of breath this morning with
the stairs--O dear! [_Places his hand to his heart._]
Thou dost agitate me, girl--but there is no disease
here--no! no! I am very ill--but I shall not die
yet!

_Flor._ Dear father! pray be careful.

_Sir Sim._ Now, had he said 'twas asthma--'tis a
long-lived complaint. I have known very old men
with asthma. Our chirurgeon, Master Gilead Stubbs,
said I was asthmatic, and we have been much together.
Many a good flagon of claret have we drank, and
should he not know my constitution?

_Basil._ Uncle!

_Sir Sim._ Yes, yes, I know. [_To Florence._] Come,
thou must marry him. Curse on this physician. I
never felt so before. [_Places his hand to his heart._]