way
Made for his mule, as letter’d as himself;
Be call’d the great and learned advocate:
And then concludes, there’s nought impossible.

Volp. Yes, to be learned, Mosca.

Mos. O, no: rich
Implies it. Hood an ass with reverend purple,
So you can hide his two ambitious ears,
And he shall pass for a cathedral doctor.

Volp. My caps, my caps, good Mosca. Fetch him in.

Mos. Stay, sir; your ointment for your eyes.

Volp. That’s true;
Dispatch, dispatch: I long to have possession
Of my new present.

Mos. That, and thousands more,
I hope to see you lord of.

Volp. Thanks, kind Mosca.

Mos. And that, when I am lost in blended dust,
And hundred such as I am, in succession—

Volp. Nay, that were too much, Mosca.

Mos. You shall live,
Still, to delude these harpies.

Volp. Loving Mosca!
’Tis well: my pillow now, and let him enter.

[Exit Mosca.

Re-enter Mosca, introducing Voltore, with a piece of Plate.

Mos. You still are what you were, sir. Only you,
Of all the rest, are he commands his love,
And you do wisely to preserve it thus,
With early visitation, and kind notes
Of your good meaning to him, which, I know,
Cannot but come most grateful. Patron! sir!
Here’s signior Voltore is come—
Volp. [faintly.] What say you?

Mos. Sir, signior Voltore is come this morning
To visit you.

Volp. I thank him.

Mos. And hath brought
A piece of antique plate, bought of St. Mark,
With which he here presents you.

Volp. He is welcome.
Pray him to come more often.

Mos. Yes.

Volt. What says he?

Mos. He thanks you, and desires you see him often.

Volp. Mosca.

Mos. My patron!

Volp. Bring him near, where is he?
I long to feel his hand.