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I do but tell you, sir. Besides, they are all (But that I would not seern to counsel you) Now striving, who shall first present him. There I should have mention'd to you at the first: fore
And make your count, you have cut all their I could entreat you, briefly, conclude somewhat :
throats. Prevent 'em if you can.
Why! 'tis directly taking a possession! Corv. Death to my hopes !
And, in his next fit, we may let him go. This is my villanous fortune! Best to hire 'Tis but to pull the pillow from his head, Some common courtezan?
And he is throttled : 't had been done before, Mos. Ay, I thought on that, sir.
But for your scrupulous doubts. But they are all so subtle, full of art,
Corv. Ay, a plague on't, And age again doting and flexible,
My conscience fools my wit. Well, I'll be briei, So as I cannot tell ---we may perchance And so be thou, lest they should be before us: Light on a quean may cheat us all.
Go home, prepare him, tell him with what zeal Corv. 'Tis true.
And willingness I do it; swear it was, Mos. No, no; it must be one tliat has no On the first hearing (as thou may'st do truly) tricks, sir,
Mine own free motion.
Of his starved clients shall be banish'd all; Gad so— Think, think, think, think, think, think, And only you received. But come not, sir, think, sir.
Until I send, for I have something else One o'th' doctors offer'd there his daughter. To ripen for your good-you must not know't. Cory. How!
Corv. But do not you forget to send now. Mos. Yes, Signior Lmpo, the physician
Mos. Fear not.
(Exit Mos. Cory. His daughter ! Mos. And a virgin, sir. Why? Alas!
CORvino and CELIA.
Corv. Where are you, wife? my Celia! wiie! A long forgetfulness hath seized that part.
what, blubbering? Besides, sir, who shall know it? some one or Come, dry those tears. I think, thou thought'st two
me in earnest!
It is a poor, unprofitable biunoar.
Do not I know, if women have a will, Slight, if this doctor, who is not engaged, They'll do 'gainst all the watches of the world? Unless't be for his counsel, which is nothing, And that the fiercest spies are tamed with gold? Offer his daughter, what should I, that am Tut, I am confident in thee, thou shalt set't : So deeply in? I will prevent him, wretch! And see, I'll give thee cause too to believe it. Covetous wretch ! Mosca, I have determined. Come, kiss me. Go and make thee ready straight Mos. How, sir?
In all thy best attire, thy choicest jewels, Coro. We'll make all sure. The party you Put 'em all on, and, with 'ein, the best looks: wot of,
We are invited to a solemn feast, Shall be mine own wife, Mosca.
At old Volpone's, where it shall appear Mos. Sir, the thing
How far I'm free from jealousy or fear. (Eseuul.
Out of my skin now, like a subtle snake,
I am so límber. Oh! your parasite
Is a most precious thing, dropt from above,
Not bred 'mongst clods and clot-poles here on Nos. I fear I shall begin to grow in love
earth. With my dear self, and my most prosp'rous parts, | I muse, the mystery was not made a science, They do so spring and burgeon; I can feel It is so liberally profest! Almost A whimsie i my blood : (I know not how) All the wise world is little else in nature, Success hath made me wanton. I could skip But parasites, or sub-parasites. And yet,
I mean not those that have your bare town-art, With mine own tender case, but would not raTo know who's fit to feed 'em; lrave no house,
ther No family, no care, and therefore mould Prove the most rugged and laborious course, Tales for men's ears, to bait that sense; or get That might redeem my present estimation; Kitchen-invention, and some stale receipts Let me here perish in all hope of goodness. To please the belly, and the groin; nor those, Bon. This cannot be a personated passion ! With their court-dog tricks, that can fawn and I was to blame, so to mistake thy nature; fleer,
Pri'thee forgive me; and speak out thy business. Make their revenue out of legs and faces,
Mos. Sir, it concerns you; and though I may Echo my lord, and lick away a moth:
seem But your fine, elegant rascal, that can rise,
At first to make a main offence in manners, And stoop, almost together, like an arrow; And in my gratitude unto my master; Shoot through the air as nimbly as a star; Yet, for the pure love which I bear all right, Turn short, as doth a swallow; and be kere And hatred of the wrong, I must reveal it. And there, and here and yonder, all at once; This very hour your father is in purpose Present to any bumour, all occasion;
To disinherit you-
Of goodness and true virtue, which I hear
Tabound in you; and, for which mere respect,
Without a second aim, sir, I have done it.
Bon. This tale hath lost thee much of the late Mos. Who's this? Bonario? Old Corbaccio's
trust son !
Thou hadst with me; it is impossible: The person I was bound to seek. Fair sir, I know not how to lend it any thought, You are hap'ly met.
My father should be so unnatural. Bon. That cannot be, by thee.
Mos. It is a confidence that well becomes Mos. Why, sir?
Your picty; and form’d, no doubt, it is Bor. Nay, pr’ythee know thy way, and leave From your own simple innocence; which makes
Your wrong more monstrous and abhorr’d. But, I would be loth to interchange discourse With such a mate as thou art.
I now will tell you more. This very
minute Mos. Courteous sir,
It is, or will be, doing: And, if you Scorn not my poverty.
Shall be but pleased to go with me, I'll bring you Bon. Not I, by Heav'n:
(I dare not say where you shall see, but) where But thou shalt give me leave to hate thy baseness. Your ear shall be a witness of the deed; Mos. Baseness?
Hear yourself written bastard ; and profess'd Bon. Ay, answer me, is not thy sloth
The common issue of the earth. Sufficient argument ? thy flattery?
Bon. I'm 'maz'd! Thy means of feeding?
Mos. Sir, if I do it not, draw your just sword, Mas. Heav'n be good to me!
And score your vengeance on my front and face; These imputations are too common, sir,
Mark me your villain : You have too much And eas'ly stuck on virtue, when she's poor;
wrong, You are unequal to me, and howe'er
And I do suffer for you, sir. My heart
(Exeunt. St Mark bear witness 'gainst you, 'tis inhuman. Bor. What? does he weep? the sign is soft
SCENE III. and good! I do repent me, that I was so harsh.
VOLPONE, NANO, ANDROGYNO,and CASTRONE. Jos. 'Tis true, that, sway'd by strong neces Volp. Mosca stays long, methinks. Bring forth sity,
your sports, I am enforced to eat my careful bread
And help to make the wretched tiine more sweet. With too much obsequy; 'tis true, beside,
Nan. Dwarf, fool, and eunuch, well met here That I am fain to spin mine own poor raiment Out of my mere observance, being not born A question it were now, whether of us three, To a free fortune; but that I have done Being all the known delicates of a rich man, Base offices, in rending friends asunder, In pleasing him, claim the precedency can? Dividing families, betraying counsels,
Cas. I claim for myself. Whispering false lies, or mining men with praises, And. And so doth the fool. Train'd thcir credulity with perjuries,
Nan. 'Tis foolish indeed : let me set you both, Cerrupted chastity, or am in love
First, for your dwarf, he's little and witty, Read you the principles, argued all the grounds,
honour. Of greater men's actions, in a ridiculous fashion. Lady. Made you acquainted, what an ample Beside, this feat body of mine doth not crave
dowry Half the meat, drink, and cloth, one of your bulk The knowledge of these things would be unto you, will have.
Able, alone, to get you noble husbands
[One knocks. Well, go your ways, and stay i’the next room. Give me my caps, first-go, enquire. Now, Cu- This fucus was too coarse too, it's no matter. pid,
Good sir, you'll give 'em entertainment? Send it be Mosca, and with fair return.
Volp. The storm comes toward me. Nan. It is the beauteous madam
Lady. How does my Volp? Volp. Would-be-is it?
Volp. Troubled with noise, I cannot sleep: 1 Nan. The same.
dream'd Volp. Now, torment on me! 'squire her in, That a strange fury enter'd, now, my house, For she will enter, or dwell here for ever. And, with the dreadful tempest of her breath, Nay, quickly, that my fit were past. I fear Did cleave my roof asunder. A second hell too, that my loathing this
Lady. Believe me, and I Will quite expel my appetite to the other : Had the most fearful dream, could I rememWould she were taking, now, her tedious leave.
bertLord, how it threats me, what I am to suffer! Volp. Out on my fate! I ha' given her the oce
casion SCENE IV.
How to torment me: she will tell me hers.
Lady. Methought, the golden mediocrity Lady, VOLPONE, NANO, and two Women.
Polite and delicateLady. I thank you, good sir. Pray you signify Volp. O, if you do love me, Unto your patron I am here. This band No more; I sweat, and suffer, at the mention Shews not my neck enough (I trouble you, sir, Of any dream; feel, how I tremble yet. Let me request you bid one of my women
Lady. Alas, good soul! the passion of the Come hither to me;) in good faith, I am drest
heart! Most favourably to-day; it is no matter, Seed-pearl were good now, boild with
of 'Tis well enough. Look, see, these petulant
Tincture of gold, and coral, citron-pills, How they have done this !
Your elicampane root, myrobalanesVolp. I do feel the fever
Volp. Ah me, I have ta'en a grasshopper by the Entering in at mine cars ; 0, for a charnı
wing. To fright it hence.
Lady. Burnt silk and amber, you have musLady. Come nearer : is this curl
cadel In his right place? or this? why is this liglier Good i'the houseThan all the rest? you ha' not wash'd your eyes Volp. You will not drink, and part ?
Lady. No, fear not that. I doubt we shall not Or do they not stand even i’your head ?
get Where's your fellow? call her.
Some English saffron (half a drachm would serve) Nan. Now, St Mark
Your sixteen cloves, a little musk, dried mints, Deliver us; anon she'll beat her women,
Bugloss, and barley-mealBecause her nose is red.
Volp. She's in again; Lady. I pray you, view
Before I feign’d diseases, now I have one. This tire, forsooth: are all things apt, or no? Lady. And these applied, with a right scarlet Wom. One hair a little, here, sticks out, for
Volp. Another flood of words ! a very torrent! Lady. Does't so, forsooth? and where was Lady. Shall I, sir, make you a poultice? your dear sight
Volp. No, no, no; When it did so, forsooth? what now? bird-ey'd? I'm very well : you need prescribe no more. And you too? pray you both approach, and Lady. I have a little studied physic; but now mend it.
I'm all for music; savc, i'the forenoons, Now (by that light) I muse, you're not asham'd! An hour or two, for painting. I would have 1, that have preach'd these things so oft unto you, | A lady, indeed, t'have all, letters and arts,
you are like him, just. I'll disa
Volp. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!
Be able to discourse, to write, to paint,
Volp. The poet,
Tasso? or Dante?
Polp. Is every thing a cause to my destruction?
Volp. The sun, the sea, will sooner both stand Than her eternal tongue ! nothing can 'scape it.
Ludy. Here's Pastor Fido.
Lody. All our English writers,
Volp. Alas, my mind's perturb'd.
Volp. Oh me!
lady. And, as we find our passions do rebel, Encounter 'em with reason, or divert 'em, By giving scope unto some other humour Of lesser danger; as in politic bodies, There's nothing more doth overwhelm the judg
ment, And clouds the understanding, than too much Settling and fixing, and (as 'twere) subsiding Upon one object. For the incorporating of these same outward things, into that part, Which we call mental, leaves some certain fæces That stop the organs, and, as Plato says, Assassinates our knowledge.
Voip. Now, the spirit
Ledy. Come, in faith I must
Volp. My good angels save me!
Mosca, Lady, and VOLPONE..
Volp. Mosca! Welcome,
Mos. Why, sir? Volp. Ok, Rid me of this my torture, quickly, there ; My madam, with the everlasting voice: The bells, in time of pestilence, ne'er made Like noise, or were in that perpetual motion ! The cock-pit comes not near it. All my house, But now, steam'd like a bath with her thick breath. A lawyer could not have been heard ; nor scarce Another woman,
such a hail of words She has let fall. For hell's sake rid her hence.
Mos. Has she presented ?
Volp. O, I do not care,
Ludy. I ha' brought your patron
Mos. 'Tis well.
hend him, Rowing upon the water in a gondola, With the most cunning courtezan of Venice.
Lady. Is't true?
Mos. Pursue 'em, and believe your eyes : Leave me to make your gift. I knew ’twould
take. For lightly they that use themselves most licence, Are still most jealous.
Volp. Mosca, hearty thanks,
Lady. But do you hear, sir?-
Lady. Which way
Mos. Toward the Rialto.
Mos. I pray you take him.
MOSCA, CORVINO, CELIA, BONARIO, and
VOLPONE. Mos. Death on me! you are come too soon!
what meant you ? Did not I say I would send ?
Corv. Yes, but I fear'd
Corv. Where are you, Celia ?
Cory. Now I will:
sir. Bon. Yes, I will stay there. I do doubt this fellow.
(Exit. Mos. There, he is far enough; he can hear
nothing: And for his father, I can keep him off. Corv. Nay, now, there is no starting back,
Cel. Sir, let me beseech you,
Corv. Believe it, I have no such humour, I. All that I speak I mean, yet I am not mad;
Not horn-mad, see you. Go too, shew yourself
Cel. O Heaven !
Cory. I have told you reasons ;
Cel. Are Heav'n and saints then nothing?
Cel. Good sir,
Coro. I grant you; if I thought it were a sin,
change? Volp. Thou art mine honour, Mosca, and my
pride, My joy, my tickling, my delight! go, bring 'em Mos. use
draw near, sir. Coro. Coine on, whatYou will not be rebellious ? by that light
Mos. Sir, Signior Corvino here is come te
Mos. And hearing of the consultation had,
Corv. Thanks, sweet Mosca.