Cris. What was it, I pray thee?

Hor.
She told me I should surely never perish
By famine, poison, or the enemy's sword;
The hectic fever, cough, or pleurisy,
Should never hurt me, nor the tardy gout:
But in my time, I should be once surprised
By a strong tedious talker, that should vex
And almost bring me to consumption:
Therefore, if I were wise, she warn'd me shun
All such long-winded monsters as my bane;
For if I could but 'scape that one discourser,
I might no doubt prove an old aged man.--
By your leave, Sir. [Going.

Cris. Tut, tut; abandon this idle humour, 'tis nothing but
melancholy. 'Fore Jove, now I think on't, I am to appear in court
here, to answer to one that has me in suit: sweet Horace, go with
me, this is my hour; if I neglect it, the law proceeds against me.
Thou art familiar with these things; prithee, if thou lov'st me,
go.

Hor.
Now, let me die, sir, if I know your laws,
Or have the power to stand still half so long
In their loud courts, as while a case is argued.
Besides, you know, sir, where I am to go.
And the necessity---