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.
[WALKS ASIDE.]
If any man
But I had had this luck--The thing in't self,
I know, is nothing--Wherefore should not I
As well command my blood and my affections,
As this dull doctor? In the point of honour,
The cases are all one of wife and daughter.

MOS [ASIDE.]: I hear him coming.

CORV: She shall do't: 'tis done.
Slight! if this doctor, who is not engaged,