VOLT: How now, my Mosca?

MOS [WRITING.]: "Turkey carpets, nine"-

VOLT: Taking an inventory! that is well.

MOS: "Two suits of bedding, tissue"-

VOLT: Where's the Will?

Let me read that the while.

[ENTER SERVANTS, WITH CORBACCIO IN A CHAIR.]

CORB: So, set me down: And get you home.

[EXEUNT SERVANTS.]

VOLT: Is he come now, to trouble us!

MOS: "Of cloth of gold, two more"-

CORB: Is it done, Mosca?

MOS: "Of several velvets, eight"-

VOLT: I like his care.

CORB: Dost thou not hear?

[ENTER CORVINO.]

CORB: Ha! is the hour come, Mosca?

VOLP [PEEPING OVER THE CURTAIN.]: Ay, now, they muster.

CORV: What does the advocate here, Or this Corbaccio?

CORB: What do these here?

[ENTER LADY POL. WOULD-BE.]

LADY P: Mosca!

Is his thread spun?

MOS: "Eight chests of linen"-

VOLP: O, My fine dame Would-be, too!

CORV: Mosca, the Will, That I may shew it these, and rid them hence.

MOS: "Six chests of diaper, four of damask."-There.

[GIVES THEM THE WILL CARELESSLY, OVER HIS SHOULDER.]

CORB: Is that the will?

MOS: "Down-beds, and bolsters"-

VOLP: Rare!

Be busy still. Now they begin to flutter: They never think of me. Look, see, see, see!

How their swift eyes run over the long deed, Unto the name, and to the legacies, What is bequeath'd them there-

MOS: "Ten suits of hangings"-

VOLP: Ay, in their garters, Mosca. Now their hopes Are at the gasp.

VOLT: Mosca the heir?

CORB: What's that?

VOLP: My advocate is dumb; look to my merchant, He has heard of some strange storm, a ship is lost, He faints; my lady will swoon. Old glazen eyes, He hath not reach'd his despair yet.

CORB [TAKES THE WILL.]: All these Are out of hope: I am sure, the man.

CORV: But, Mosca-

MOS: "Two cabinets."

CORV: Is this in earnest?

MOS: "One Of ebony"-

CORV: Or do you but delude me?

MOS: The other, mother of pearl-I am very busy.

Good faith, it is a fortune thrown upon me- "Item, one salt of agate"-not my seeking.

LADY P: Do you hear, sir?

MOS: "A perfum'd box"-'Pray you forbear, You see I'm troubled-"made of an onyx"-

LADY P: How!

MOS: To-morrow or next day, I shall be at leisure To talk with you all.

CORV: Is this my large hope's issue?

LADY P: Sir, I must have a fairer answer.

MOS: Madam!