For withering, wasting hunger laid him low,
That cruel plague, the progeny of Hell.
Marquino.
It was no wound, so far as thou dost know,
That pierced his heart and cut the vital thread,
No cancer, nay, nor homicidal blow?
I ask thee this, for to my science dread
It matters that this body be complete,
Entire in all its parts, from foot to head.
Milvio.