Luc. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes.
I haue purchas'd as many diseases vnder her Roofe,
As come to
2.Gent. To what, I pray?
Luc. Iudge

2.Gent. To three thousand Dollours a yeare

1.Gent. I, and more

Luc. A French crowne more

1.Gent. Thou art alwayes figuring diseases in me; but
thou art full of error, I am sound

Luc. 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

1.Gent. How now, which of your hips has the most
profound Ciatica?
Bawd. Well, well: there's one yonder arrested, and
carried to prison, was worth fiue thousand of you all

2.Gent. Who's that I pray'thee?
Bawd. Marry Sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio

1.Gent. Claudio to prison? 'tis not so