H' is the true father of his family,

In all, fave me. But he has given them nothing.

Corv. That's well, that's well! Art fure he does not hear us?

Mof. Sure, Sir! Why, look you, credit your own sense. The plague approach, and add to your diseases, If it would fend you hence the fooner, Sir, • For your incontinence; it hath deferv'd it Thoroughly, and thoroughly, and the pox to boot." (You may come near, Sir) Would you would once clofe Thofe filthy eyes of yours, that flow with flime,

เ

Like two frog pits; and thofe fame hanging cheeks, Cover'd with hide, instead of skin, (Nay help, Sir) That look like frozen difh-clouts fet on end.

Cory. Or like an old smoak'd wall, on which the rain Ran down in ftreaks.

Mof. Excellent, Sir! fpeak out;

You may be louder yet. A culverin,

Difcharged in his ear, would hardly bore it.

Corv. His nofe is like a common fewer, still running.
Mof. ' is good!' And what his mouth?

Cor. A very draught.

Mof. Oh, flop it up!

Corv. By no means.

Mof. Pray you, let me.

Faith, I could stifle him rarely with a pillow,
As well as any woman that fhould keep him.
Corv. Do as you will; but I'll begone.
Mof. Be fo;

It is your prefence makes him last so long.

Corv. I pray you,

ufe no

Mof. No, Sir! Why?

violence.

Why fhould you be thus fcrupulous? Pray you, Sir.

Cor. Nay, at your difcretion.

Mof. Well, good Sir, begone.

Cor. I will not trouble him now, to take my pearl.

Mof. Puh! nor your diamond.

What a needlefs care

Is this afflicts you?' Is not all here yours?

Am not I here, whom you have made your creature,

That owe my being to you?

Cor. Grateful Mofca!

Thou

Thou art my friend, my fellow, my companion,
My partner, and fhalt fare in all my fortunes.
Mof. Excepting one.

Corv. What's that?

Mof. Your gallant wife, Sir.

Now he is gone. We had no other means

To fhoot him hence, but this.

Volp. My divine Mosca!

[Exit Corvino.

Thou haft to-day out-gone thyfelf. Who's there?

Mof. 'Tis Corbaccio.

[Another knocks

Betake you to your filence, and your fleep.
Stand there, and multiply.' Now fhall we fee
A wretch who is, indeed, more impotent
Than this can feign to be; yet hopes to hop
Over his grave.

Signior Corbaccio!

Enter Corbaccio.

You're very welcome, Sir.

Corb. How does your patron?

Mof. Troth, as he did, Sir; no amends.

Corb. What! mends he?

Mof. No, Sir; he is rather worse.

Corb. That's well.

Where is he?

Mf. Upon his couch, Sir, newly fall'n to fleep-
Corb. Does he fleep well?

Mof. No wink, Sir, all this night,

Nor yesterday; but flumbers.

Corb. Good! He fhall take

Some counsel of phyficians. I have brought him
An opiate here, from mine own doctor-

Mof. He will not hear of drugs.

Corb. Why, I myself

Stood by while 'twas made, faw all th' ingredients,
And know it cannot but most gently work.'

My life for his, 'tis but to make him fleep.
Volp. Ay, his laft fleep, if he would take it.
Mof. Sir,

He has no faith in phyfick.

Corb. 'Say you? 'Say you?

Mof. He has no faith in phyfic. He does think Most of your doctors are the greater danger,

[Afide

B. 3

And

And the worfe difeafe, t' efcape. I often have
Heard him protest, that your phyfician
Should never be his heir.

Corb. Not I his heir!

Mof. Not your phyfician, Sir.
Corb. Oh, no, no, no!

I do not mean it.

Mof. No, Sir; nor their fees

He cannot brook; he fays they flay a man,
Before they kill him.

Corb. Right; I do conceive you.

Mof. And then, they do it by authority;
For which the law not only doth abfolve them,
But gives them great reward: and he is loth
To hire his death fo.

Corb. It is true, they kill

With as much licence as a judge.

Mof. Nay, more;

For he but kills, Sir, where the law condemns,

And these can kill him too.

Corb. Ay, or me,

Or any man. How does his apoplex?
Is that ftrong on him still?

Mol. Moft violent.

His fpeech is broken, and his eyes are fet,
His face drawn longer than 'twas wont-
Corb. How, how!

Stronger than he was wont ?

Mof. No, Sir; his face

Drawn longer than 'twas wont.

Corb. Oh, good!

Mof. His mouth

Mof. A freezing numbnefs ftiffens all his joints,

And makes the colour of his flesh like lead.

Mef. Flows a cold fweat, with a continual rheum, Forth the refolved corners of his eyes.' Corb. Is't poffible? Yet I am better, ha! How does he with the fwimming of his head? Mof. Oh, Sir, 'tis paft the fcotomy! He now Hath loft his feeling, and hath left to fnort.' You hardly can perceive him that he breathes. Corb. Excellent, excellent! Sure I shall out-last him. This makes me young again, a fcore of years. Mof. I was a coming for you, Sir.

Corb. Has he made his will?

What has he giv'n me?

Mof. No, Sir.

Corb. Nothing? Ha!

Mof. He has not made his will, Sir.

Corb. Oh, oh, oh!

What then did Voltore, the lawyer, here?

Mof. He fmelt a carcafe, Sir, when he but heard My mafter was about his teftament;

As I did urge him to it, for your good

Corb. He came unto him, did he? I thought fo.
Mof. Yes, and presented him this piece of plate.
Corb. To be his heir?

Mof. I do not know, Sir.

Corb. True,

I know it too.

I fhall prevent him yet. See, Mofca, look,
Here I have brought a bag of bright chequins,
Will quite weigh down his plate.

Mof. Yea, marry, Sir,

This is true phyfic; this is your facred medicine:
No talk of opiates, to this great elixir.

Corb. 'Tis aurum palpabile, if not potabile.
Mof. It fhall be minister'd to him in his bowl,
Corb. Ay, do, do, do.

Mof. Moft bleffed cordial!

This will recover him..

Corb. Yes, do, do, do.

Mof. I think it were not best, Sir.

Corb. What?

Mof.

Mof. To recover him.

Corb. Oh, no, no, no! by no means.
Mof. Why, Sir, this

Will work fome ftrange effect, if he but feel it.
Corb. 'Tis true; therefore, forbear; I'll take
Give me❜t again.

Mof. At no hand: pardon me;

You fhall not do yourself that wrong, Sir. I
Will fo advise you, you shall have it all.

Corb. How?

my ven

[ture.

Mof. All, Sir; 'tis your right, your own; no man Can claim a part. 'Tis yours, without a rival, Decreed by destiny.

Corb. How, how, good Mofca?

Mof. I'll tell you, Sir. This fit he fhall recover.
Corb. I do conceive you.

Mof. And on first advantage

Of his gain'd fenfe, will I re-importune him

Unto the making of his testament;

And fhew him this.

If

Corb. Good, good.

Mef. 'Tis better yet,

you will hear, Sir.

Corb. Yes, with all my heart.

Mof. Now, would I counsel you, make home with speed;

There frame a will, whereto you shall inscribe

My mafter your fole heir..

Corb. And difinherit

My fon?

Mof. Oh, Sir, the better! for that colour Shall make it much more taking.

Corb. Oh, but colour !

Mof. This will, Sir, you fhall fend it unto me.
Now, when I come t'inforce (as I will do)

Your cares, your watchings, and your many prayers,
• Your more than many gifts,' your this day's prefent,
And laft, produce your will, where (without thought
Or leaft reward, unto your proper iffue,

A fon, fo brave, and highly meriting)

The ftream of your diverted love hath thrown you
Upon my master, and made him your heir:"

He