_Ger._ In this with you I perfectly agree.

_Anto._ Yet for all that I wish I could foresee.

_Cælia._ My Lord, what profit by it wou'd you gain?

_Anto._ 'Twould cure doubt to me the deadliest pain.

_Ger._ Doubt is th'effect of fear or Jealousie,
Two Passions which to Reason give the Lye
For fear torments, but never does assist,
And Jealousie is love lost in a Mist.
Both Hood-wink truth, then go to blind-mans buff,
Cry here, then there, seem to direct enough:
But all the while shift place making the mind
As it goes out of breath despair to find.
And if at last something it stumbles on,
Perhaps it calls it false and then 'tis gone.
If true, what's gain'd only just time to see
A breachless Play a Game at Liberty;
That has no other end then this, that men
Run to be tyr'd just to set down agen.

_Anto._ This is a truth, and so for ought I know,
To the same purpose tends all things we do:
Life's a Disease, and yet we seldom say,
That Man is sick whom we see laugh and play;
And 'tis as well to bid the Bed-rid ride,
As to bid Men in doubt be satisfy'd:
For 'tis the mind's Disease, and Physick should