Plaister

My Lord Sebaſtian, / The truth you ſpeake doth lacke ſome gentleneſſe, / And time to ſpeake it in: you rub the ſore, / When you ſhould bring the plaiſter.

‘Why then, upon my Soul,’ cries Benjamin, ‘it would require a great deal of Art to keep you from being well after a very few Dreſſings; and if you will ſuffer me to apply ſome Salve of mine, I will anſwer for the Succeſs.’ Jones gave his Conſent, and the Plaiſter was applied accordingly.