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rough That threw her in the sea.-Make a fire within: Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet.-

[Exit a Servant. Death may usurp on nature many hours, And yet the fire of life kindle again The o'erpress'd spirits. I've read of an Egyptian

That had nine hours lien dead,
Who was by good appliances recover❜d.
Re-enter a Servant, with boxes, napkins, and fire.
Well said,1 well said; the fire and cloths.-
The rough and woful music that we have,
Cause it to sound, beseech you.

Your strokes of fortune, Though they have hurt you mortally, yet glance

Full woundingly on us.

4 Take from my heart all thankfulness, receive my most hearty thanks.