They say they are restorative.

BOSOLA. 'Tis a pretty art,
This grafting.

DUCHESS. 'Tis so; a bettering of nature.

BOSOLA. To make a pippin grow upon a crab,
A damson on a black-thorn.--[Aside.] How greedily she eats them!
A whirlwind strike off these bawd farthingales!
For, but for that and the loose-bodied gown,
I should have discover'd apparently<43>
The young springal<44> cutting a caper in her belly.

DUCHESS. I thank you, Bosola: they were right good ones,
If they do not make me sick.

ANTONIO. How now, madam!

DUCHESS. This green fruit and my stomach are not friends:
How they swell me!

BOSOLA. [Aside.] Nay, you are too much swell'd already.

DUCHESS. O, I am in an extreme cold sweat!

BOSOLA. I am very sorry.
[Exit.]

DUCHESS. Lights to my chamber!--O good Antonio,