2. SCENE II. London. A street.
I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse:
borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is
incurable. Go bear this letter to my Lord of Lancaster; this to the
prince; this to the Earl of Westmoreland; and this to old Mistress
Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the
first white hair of my chin. About it: you know where to find me.
A pox of this gout! or, a gout of this pox! for the one or the other
plays the rogue with my great toe. 'Tis no matter if I do halt; I
have the wars for my colour, and my pension shall seem the more
reasonable. A good wit will make use of any thing: I will turn
diseases to commodity.