SECOND GENTLEMAN.
To three thousand dollars a year.

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Ay, and more.

LUCIO.
A French crown more.

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Thou art always figuring diseases in me, but thou art full of
error; I am sound.

LUCIO.
Nay, not, as one would say, healthy; but so sound as things that
are hollow: thy bones are hollow: impiety has made a feast of thee.

[Enter BAWD.]

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
How now! which of your hips has the most profound sciatica?

BAWD.
Well, well; there's one yonder arrested and carried to prison was
worth five thousand of you all.

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Who's that, I pray thee?