CORB: This act shall disinherit him indeed;
Here is the Will.
MOS: 'Tis well, sir.
CORB: Right and well:
Be you as careful now for me.
[ENTER VOLTORE, BEHIND.]
MOS: My life, sir,
Is not more tender'd; I am only yours.
CORB: How does he? will he die shortly, think'st thou?
MOS: I fear
He'll outlast May.
CORB: To-day?
MOS: No, last out May, sir.
CORB: Could'st thou not give him a dram?
MOS: O, by no means, sir.
CORB: Nay, I'll not bid you.
VOLT [COMING FORWARD.]: This is a knave, I see.
MOS [SEEING VOLTORE.]: How! signior Voltore!
[ASIDE.] did he hear me?
VOLT: Parasite!
MOS: Who's that?--O, sir, most timely welcome--
VOLT: Scarce,
To the discovery of your tricks, I fear.
You are his, ONLY? and mine, also? are you not?
MOS: Who? I, sir?
VOLT: You, sir. What device is this
About a Will?
MOS: A plot for you, sir.
VOLT: Come,
Put not your foists upon me; I shall scent them.
MOS: Did you not hear it?
VOLT: Yes, I hear Corbaccio
Hath made your patron there his heir.
MOS: 'Tis true,
By my device, drawn to it by my plot,
With hope--
VOLT: Your patron should reciprocate?
And you have promised?
MOS: For your good, I did, sir.
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