Give me a bowl of lusty wine, to fright
This humour from my heart.
[DRINKS.]
Hum, hum, hum!
'Tis almost gone already; I shall conquer.
Any device, now, of rare ingenious knavery,
That would possess me with a violent laughter,
Would make me up again.
[DRINKS AGAIN.]
So, so, so, so!
This heat is life; 'tis blood by this time:--Mosca!

[ENTER MOSCA.]

MOS: How now, sir? does the day look clear again?
Are we recover'd, and wrought out of error,
Into our way, to see our path before us?
Is our trade free once more?

VOLP: Exquisite Mosca!

MOS: Was it not carried learnedly?

VOLP: And stoutly:
Good wits are greatest in extremities.

MOS: It were a folly beyond thought, to trust
Any grand act unto a cowardly spirit:
You are not taken with it enough, methinks?