PROD. Come up, gentle Money; we may not here stay.
MON. I must needs, Prodigality, there is no nay;
For if I should stir me one inch from the ground,
I think I shall die, sure, or fall in a sound.[408]
PROD. Then must you be drawn.
MON. Drawn or hang'd, all is one:
For I cannot stir me; my breath is clean gone.
PROD. How like ye this grossum corpus, so mightily grown?
TOSS. I like him the better, that he is your own.
DICER. A more monstrous beast, a beast more unwieldy,
Since first I was born, yet[409] never beheld I.
PROD. Indeed, the whoreson is waxen somewhat too fat;
But we will find medicines to remedy that.
TOSS. Sir, let me but have him a little in cure,
To put my poor practice of physic in ure,
And I dare warrant ye, with a purgation or twain,
I'll quickly rid him out of all this pain.
PROD. I think a glister were better.