[EXEUNT NANO AND WAITING-WOMEN.]

VOLP: The storm comes toward me.

LADY P [GOES TO THE COUCH.]: How does my Volpone?

VOLP: Troubled with noise, I cannot sleep; I dreamt
That a strange fury enter'd, now, my house,
And, with the dreadful tempest of her breath,
Did cleave my roof asunder.

LADY P: Believe me, and I
Had the most fearful dream, could I remember't--

VOLP [ASIDE.]: Out on my fate! I have given her the occasion
How to torment me: she will tell me hers.

LADY P: Me thought, the golden mediocrity,
Polite and delicate--

VOLP: O, if you do love me,
No more; I sweat, and suffer, at the mention
Of any dream: feel, how I tremble yet.

LADY P: Alas, good soul! the passion of the heart.
Seed-pearl were good now, boil'd with syrup of apples,
Tincture of gold, and coral, citron-pills,
Your elicampane root, myrobalanes--

VOLP [ASIDE.]: Ah me, I have ta'en a grass-hopper by the wing!