Phil. My daughter, what are you doing in this room? Gian. Curiosity, sir, brought me here. Phil. And what excites your curiosity? Gian. To see a master who understands nothing of such things, and an awkward servant endeavouring to pack up a trunk. Phil. Do you know when he goes away? Gian. He intended going this morning, but, in walking across the room, his legs trembled so, that I fear he will not stand the journey. Phil. I think his present disease has deeper roots than his wound. Gian. Yet only one hurt has been discovered by the surgeons. Phil. Oh, there are wounds which they know nothing of. Gian. Every wound, however slight, makes its mark. Phil. Eh! there are weapons that give an inward wound. Gian. Without breaking the skin? Phil. Certainly. Gian. How do these wounds enter? Phil.