Will waste him by degrees.
Duch. In what time, pr’ythee?
Hec. Perhaps in a month’s progress.
Duch. What? A month?
Out upon pictures! If they be so tedious,
Give me things with some life.
Hec. Then seek no farther.
Duch. This must be done with speed, dispatched this night,
If it may possibly.
Hec. I have it for you: