MOS: No, six, sir.

CORB: 'Tis too much.

MOS: He talk'd a great while;
You must consider that, sir.

CORB: Well, there's three--

MOS: I'll give it him.

CORB: Do so, and there's for thee.

[EXIT.]

MOS [ASIDE.]: Bountiful bones! What horrid strange offence
Did he commit 'gainst nature, in his youth,
Worthy this age?
[TO VOLT.]--You see, sir, how I work
Unto your ends; take you no notice.

VOLT: No,
I'll leave you.

[EXIT.]

MOS: All is yours, the devil and all:
Good advocate!--Madam, I'll bring you home.

LADY P: No, I'll go see your patron.