Corb. Right and well:
Be you as careful now for me.

Mos. My life, sir,
Is not more tender’d; I am only yours.

Corb. How does he? will he did 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! did he hear me?

[Aside.

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.
Nay, more, I told his son, brought, hid him here,
Where he might hear his father pass the deed:
Being persuaded to it by this thought, sir,
That the unnaturalness, first, of the act,
And then his father’s oft disclaiming in him,
(Which I did mean t’help on,) would sure enrage him
To do some violence upon his parent,
On which the law should take sufficient hold,
And you be stated in a double hope:
Truth be my comfort, and my conscience,
My only aim was to dig you a fortune
Out of these two old rotten sepulchres—

Volt. I cry thee mercy, Mosca.

Mos. Worth your patience,
And your great merit, sir. And see the change!