Besides, they are all
Now striving, who shall first present him; therefore--
I could entreat you, briefly conclude somewhat;
Prevent them if you can.
CORV: Death to my hopes,
This is my villainous fortune! Best to hire
Some common courtezan.
MOS: Ay, I thought on that, sir;
But they are all so subtle, full of art--
And age again doting and flexible,
So as--I cannot tell--we may, perchance,
Light on a quean may cheat us all.
CORV: 'Tis true.
MOS: No, no: it must be one that has no tricks, sir,
Some simple thing, a creature made unto it;
Some wench you may command. Have you no kinswoman?
Odso--Think, think, think, think, think, think, think, sir.
One o' the doctors offer'd there his daughter.
CORV: How!
MOS: Yes, signior Lupo, the physician.
CORV: His daughter!
MOS: And a virgin, sir. Why? alas,
He knows the state of's body, what it is;
That nought can warm his blood sir, but a fever;
Nor any incantation raise his spirit:
A long forgetfulness hath seized that part.
Besides sir, who shall know it? some one or two--
CORV: I prithee give me leave.
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