Cris. Nay, but where is't? I prithee say. ;

Hor. On the far side of all Tyber yonder, by Caesar's gardens.

Cris. O, that's my course directly; I am for you. Come, go; why
stand'st thou?

Hor. Yes, sir: marry, the plague is in that part of the city; I had
almost forgot to tell you, sir.

Cris. Foh! it is no matter, I fear no pestilence; I have not
offended Phoebus.

Hor.
I have, it seems, or else this heavy scourge
Could ne'er have lighted on me.

Cris. Come along. Hor. I am to go down some half mile this way,
sir, first, to speak with his physician; and from thence to his
apothecary, where I shall stay the mixing of divers drugs.

Cris. Why, it's all one, I have nothing to do, and I love not to be
idle; I'll bear thee company. How call'st thou the apothecary?

Hor.
O that I knew a name would fright him now!---
Sir, Rhadamanthus, Rhadamanthus, sir.
There's one so called, is a just judge in hell,
And doth inflict strange vengeance on all those
That here on earth torment poor patient spirits.