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Cel. O Heav'n! how just thou art !
VOLPONE, NANO, ANDROGINO, and CASTRONE. Can help, but impudence.
Volp. To make a snare for mine own neck, 1 Avoc. Speak forward. Com. Silence.
My head into it wilfully! with laughter ! Volt. It is not passion in me, reverend fathers,
When I had newly scap'd, was free, and clear! But only conscience, conscience, my good sires, Out of mere wantonness! O, the dull devil That makes me now tell truth. That parasite,
Was in this brain of mine, when I devis’d it; That knave hath been the instrument of all.
And Mosca gave it second : He must now Avoc. Where is that knave? fetch him.
Help to sear up this vein, or we bleed dead. Volp. I go.
How now! who let you loose! whither go you Coro. Grave fathers,
now? This man's distracted; he confess'd it now:
What? to buy ginger-bread? or to drown kitlings? For, hoping to be old Volpone's heir,
Nan. Sir, master Mosca call’d us out of doors, Who now is dead
And bid us all go play, and took the keys. 3 Avoc. How
And. Yes. 2 Avoc. Is Volpone dead?
Volp. Did master Mosca take the keys? why Corv. Dead since, grave fathersBon. O, sure vengeance !
I am farther in. These are my fine conceits ! 1 Avoc. Stay,
I must be merry, with a mischief to me! Then he was no deceiver?
What a vile wretch was I, that could not bear Volt. O no, none:
My fortune soberly? I must ha' my crotchets ! The parasite, grave fathers.
And my conundrums! well, go you and seek him: Coro. He does speak
His meaning may be truer than my fear. Out of mere envy, 'cause the servant's made
Bid him, he straight come to me to the court ; The thing he gap'd for; please your fatherhoods, Thither will I, and, if't be possible, This is the truth: Though I'll not justify Unscrew my advocate upon new hopes ; The other, but he may be some-deal faulty.
When I provok'd him, then I lost myself.
your To view these certain notes, and but confer them;
Avocatori, &c. As I hope favour, they shall speak clear truth. Avoc. These things can ne'er be reconcil'd. Coro. The devil has ent'red him !
He, here, Bon. Or bides in you.
Professeth, that the gentleman was wrong'd; 4 Adoc. We have done ill by a public officer And that the gentlewoman was brought thither, To send for him, if he be heir.
Forc'd by her husband, and there left. 2 dooc. For whom?
Votp. Most true. 4 Avoc. Him that they call the parasite.
Cel. How ady is Heav'n to those that pray! 3 Avoc. 'Tis true;
1 Avoc. But, that He is a man of great estate, now left.
Volpone would have ravish'd her, he holds 4 Avoc. Go you, and learn his name; and Utterly false, knowing his impotence. say, the court
Coro. Grave fathers, he is possessed ; again, I Entreats his presence here; but, to the clearing
say, Of some few doubts.
Possessed : Nay, if there be possession, 2 Avoc. This same's a labyrinth!
And obsession, he has both. 1 Avoc. Stand you unto your first report? 3 Avoc. Here comes our officer. Coro. My state, my life, my fame
Volp. The parasite will straight be here, grave Bon. Where is't?
fathers. Coro. Are at the stake.
4 Avoc. You might invent some other name, 1 Avoc. Is your's too?
Sir Varlet. Corb. The advocate's a knave:
3 Avoc. Did not the notary meet him? And has a forked tongue
Votp. Not that I know. 2 Avoc. Speak to the point.
4 Avor. His coming will clear all. Corb. So is the parasite too.
2 Aroc. Yet it is misty. 1 dvoc. This is confusion.
Volt. May't please your fatherhoodsVolt. I do beseech your fatherhoods, read but Volp. Sir, the parasite those.
Willd me to tell you, that his master lives; Corv. And credit nothing the false spirit hath
(VOLPONE whispers the Advocate.
That you are still the man ; your hopes the same; It cannot be, but he is possess'd, grave fathers. And this was only a jest
Had betray'd all; but now it is recover'd : Volp. Sir, to try
All's o’the hinge againsay, I am living. If you were firm, and how you stood affected. Mos. What busy knave is this, most reverend Volt. Art sure he lives?
fathers! Volp. Do I live, sir?
I sooner had attended your grave pleasures, Volt. O me!
But that my order for the funeral I was too violent.
Of my dead patron did require meVolp. Sir, you may redeem it.
Voip. Mosca ! They said you were possest; fall down, and Alós. Whom I intend to bury like a gentle.
(VOLTORE fulls. I'll help to make it good.—God bless the man ! Volp. Ay, quick, and cozen me of all. (Stop your wind hard, and swell) see, see, see, 2 Avoc. Still stranger ! see !
More intricate! He vomits crooked pins ! his eyes are set,
1 Avoc. And come about again! Like a dead hare's hung in a poulterer's shop! 4 Avoc. It is a match, my daughter is bestow'd. His mouth's running away! do you see, signior ? Mos. Will you gi' me half? Now 'uis in his belly.
Volp. First, I'll be hang'd. Cord. Ay, the devil !
Mos. I know,
(Aside. Volp. Now in his throat.
Your voice is good, cry not so loudCorn. Ay, I perceive it plain.
1 Avoc. Demand
Volpone was alive?
This gentleman told me so.—Thou shalt have Corb. What? I think I do.
half. Coro. 'Tis too manifest.
Mos. Whose drunkard is this same? speak Polp. Look, he comes t himself!
some that know him : Volt. Where am I?
I never saw his face.--I cannot now
Volp. No? 1 Acoc. What accident is this?
i Avoc. What say you ? 2 Apoc. Sudden, and full of wonder!
Volt, The officer told me. 3 Acoc, If he were
Volp. I did, grave fathers, Possest, as it appears, all this is nothing.
And will maintain he lives, with mine own life, Cort. He has been often subject to these fits. And that this creature told me.--I was born
1 Avoc. Shew him that writing; do you know With all good stars my enemies ! it, sir?
Mos. Most grave fathers,
Voli. Yes, I do know it well, it is my hand : Upon me, I am silent: 'Twas not this,
For which you sent, I hope. Bon. O practice!
2 Avoc. Take him away. 2 Aroc. What maze is this !
Volp. Mosca! | Aroc. Is he not guilty then,
3. Avoc. Let him be whipp’d. Whom you there name the parasite?
Volp: Wilt thou betray me! cozen me? Polt. Grave fathers!
3 Avoc. And taught to bear himself No more than his good patron, old Volpone, Toward a person of his rank. 4 dioc. Why, he is dead?
4 Avoc. Away! Volt. O no, my honour'd fathers,
Mos. I humbly thank your fatherhoods. He lives
Volp. Soft, soft:-whipp'd? | Ador. How! lives?
And lose all that I have? If I confess, For Lives,
It cannot be much more. 2 Ador. This is subtler yet!
4 Avoc. Sir, are you married ? 9 Adom. You said he was dead?
Volp. They'll be allied, anon; I must be reVoit. Never.
solute : 9 Apoc. You said so.
The fox shall here uncase. Coro. I heard so.
Mos. Patron ! 4 dvoc. Here comes the gentleman, make him Volp. Nay, now, way.
My ruin shall not come alone : your match S Avoc. A stool.
(He puts off his disguise 4 dtur. A proper man ! and, were Volpone I'll hinder sure: my substance shall not glew dead,
you, A fit match for my daughter.
Nor screw you into a family. 3 droc. Give him way.
Mos. Why, patron? Volp. Mosca, I was almost lost, the advocate Volp. I am Volpone, and this is my knave; VOL. III,
This, his own knare ; this avarice's fool; And, since the most was gotten by imposture, This a chimera, of wittol, fool, and knave: By feigning lame, gout, palsy, and such diseases, And, reverend fathers, since we all can hope Thou art to lie in prison, crampt with irons, Nought but a sentence, let's not now despair it. Till thou be'st sick and lame indeed.-Remove You hear me brief.
him ! Corv. May it please your fatherhoods !
Volp. This is call’d mortifying of a fox. Com. Silence.
| Avoc. Thou Voltore, to take away the scan. 1 Avoc. The knot is now undone, by miracle!
dal 2 Avoc. Nothing can be more clear.
Thou hast giv'n all worthy men of thy profession, 3 Avoc. Or can more prove these innocent. Art banish'd from their fellowship, and our state. 1 Avoc. Give 'em their liberty.
Corbaccio, bring him near.
We here possess Bon. Heav'n could not long let such gross Thy son of all thy state; and confine thee crimes be hid.
To the monastery of Sun' Spirito: 2 Avoc. If this be held the highway to get Where, since thou knew'st not how to live well riches,
here, May 1 be poor:
hou shalt be learn'd to die well. 3 Anoc. This's not the gain, but torment. Corb. Ha, what said he ? 1 Avoc. These possess wealth, as sick men Com. You shall know anon, sir. possess fevers,
1 Avoc. Thou Corvino, shalt Which trulier may be said to possess them. Be straight embark'd from thine own house, and 2 Atoc. Disrobe that parasite.
row'd Corv. Mos. Most honour'd fathers!
Round about Venice, through the grand canal, 1 Avoc. Can you plead aught to stay the Wearing a cap, with fair long ass's ears course of justice ?
Instead of horns; and so to mount, a paper If you can, speals
Pinn'd on thy breast, to the BerlinoCoro l'olt.
And have mine eyes beat out with stinking fish, 1 Avoc. You hurt your innocence, suing for Bruis’d fruit, and rotten eggs- 'Tis well. I'm the guilty.
glad Stand forth; and first the parasite. You appear I shall not see my shame yet. T'have been the chiefest minister, if not plotter, | Avoc. And to expiate In all these lewd impostures; and now, lastly, Thy wrongs done to thy wife, thou art to send Have, with your impudence, abus'd the court,
her And habit of a gentleman of Venice,
Home to her father, with her dowry trebled: Being a fellow of no birth or blood :
And these are all your judgments.
Volt. I thank you for him.
When crimes are done and past, and to be pu1 Avoc. Deliver him to the Saffi. Thou, Vol.
To think wbat your crimes are: away with them! By blood and rank a gentleman, canst not fall Let all that see these vices thus rewarded, Under like censure; but our judgment on thee Take heart, and love to study 'em. Mischiefs Is, that thy substance all be strait confiscate
feed To the hospital of the Incurabili :
Like beasts, 'till they be fat, and then they bleed.
Cel. And mercy.
The seas’ning of a play is the applause.
FORTUNE, that favours fools, these two short
hours We wish away; both for your sakes and ours, Judging spectators: and desire in place, To th' author justice, to ourselves but grace. Our scene is London, 'cause we would make
known, No country's mirth is better than our own. No dime breeds better matter for your whore, Bawd, squire, impostor, many persons more, Whose manners, now call’d humours, feed the
stage : And which have still been subject, for the rage Di spleen of comic-writers. Though this pen
Did never aim to grieve, but better men;
were done ; They are so natural follies, but so shown, As even the doers may see, and yet not own.
The sickness hot, a master quit, for fear,
Sub. Since, by my means, translated suburbeSCENE I.
Face. By your means, doctor Dog? Enter Face, SUBTLE, and DoL COMMON.
Sub. Within man's
memory, Face. BELIEV'T, I will.
All this I speak of. Sub, Thy worst. I fart at thee.
Fuce. Why, I pray you, have I Dol. Ha' you your wits? Why, gentlemen! Been countenanced by you ? or you by me? for love
Do but collect, sir, where I met you first. Face. Sirrah, I'll strip you
Sub. I do not hear well. Sub. What to do? lick figs out at my
Face. Not of this, I think it, Face. Rogue, rogue, out of all your sleights. But I shall put you in mind, sir : at Pye-Corner, Dol. Nay, look ye! Sovereign, general, are Taking your meal of steam in, from cooks' stalls,
Where, like the father of hunger, you did walk Sub. 0, let the wild sheep loose. I'll gum your Piteously costive, with your pinched-horn nose, silks
And your complexion, of the Roman wash, With good strong water, an' you come.
Stuck full of black and melancholic worms, Dol. Will you have
Like powder-corns shot at the artillery yard. The neighbours hear you will you betray all ? Sub. I wish you could advance your voice a Hark, I hear somebody.
little. Face. Sirrah
Face. When you went pinned up in the seveSub. I shall mar All that the tailor has made, if you approach. You'd raked, and picked from dung-hills, before Face. You most notorious whelp, you insolent
Your feet in mouldy slippers, for your kibes, Dare you do this?
A felt of rug, and a thin threaden cloak, Sub. Yes faith, yes faith.
That scarce would cover your no-buttocksFuce. Why! who am I, my mongrel? Who Sub. No, sir !
Face. When all your alchemy, and your alSub, I'll tell you,
gebra, Since you know not yourself
Your minerals, vegetals, and animals, Face. Speak lower, rogue.
Your conj'ring, coz’ning, and your dozen of trades, Sub. Yes. You were once (time's not long Could not relieve your corps with so much linen past) the good,
Would make you tinder, but to see a fire; Ilonest, plain, livery-three-pound-thrum, that kept 1 ga' you count’nance, credit for your coals, Your master's worship's house here in the Friars, Your stills, your glasses, your materials, For the vacations
Built you a furnace, drew you customers, Fuce. Will you be so loud ?
Advanced all your black arts; lent you, beside,