Chapter XLIX: Act I: Scene I.1557

[_Enter_] VOLPONE, MOSCA.

_Volp._ Good morning to the day; and next, my gold!
Open the shrine, that I may see my saint.

[MOSCA _withdraws the curtain, and discovers piles of gold, plate, jewels, etc._]

Hail the world’s soul, and mine! More glad than is
The teeming earth to see the long’d-for sun
Peep through the horns of the celestial Ram, 5
Am I, to view thy splendour dark’ning his;
That lying here, amongst my other hoards,
Show’st like a flame by night, or like the day
Struck out of chaos, when all darkness fled
Unto the centre.[1558] O thou son of Sol, 10
But brighter than thy father, let me kiss,
With adoration, thee, and every relic
Of sacred treasure in this blessed room.
Well did wise poets, by thy glorious name,
Title that age which they would have the best;
Thou being the best of things, and far transcending 16
All style of joy, in children, parents, friends,
Or any other waking dream on earth
Thy looks when they to Venus did ascribe,
They should have given her twenty thousand Cupids; 20
Such are thy beauties and our loves! Dear saint,
Riches, the dumb god, that giv’st all men tongues,
That canst do nought, and yet mak’st men do all things;
The price of souls; even hell, with thee to boot, 24
Is made worth heaven. Thou art virtue, fame,
Honour, and all things else. Who can get thee,
He shall be noble, valiant, honest, wise——[1559]

_Mos._ And what he will, sir. Riches are in fortune
A greater good than wisdom is in nature.

_Volp._ True, my beloved Mosca. Yet I glory
More in the cunning purchase of my wealth, 31
Than in the glad possession, since I gain
No common way; I use no trade, no venture;
I wound no earth with ploughshares, I fat no beasts
To feed the shambles; have no mills for iron, 35
Oil, corn, or men, to grind them into powder;
I blow no subtle glass, expose no ships
To threat’nings of the furrow-faced sea;
I turn no monies in the public bank,
No usure private.

_Mos._ No, sir, nor devour 40
Soft prodigals. You shall ha’ some will swallow
A melting heir as glibly as your Dutch
Will pills of butter, and ne’er purge for it;
Tear forth the fathers of poor families
Out of their beds, and coffin them alive 45
In some kind clasping prison, where their bones
May be forthcoming, when the flesh is rotten:
But your sweet nature doth abhor these courses;
You loathe the widow’s or the orphan’s tears
Should wash your pavements, or their piteous cries 50
Ring in your roofs, and beat the air for vengeance.

_Volp._ Right, Mosca; I do loathe it.

_Mos._ And, besides, sir,
You are not like the thresher that doth stand
With a huge flail, watching a heap of corn, 54
And, hungry, dares not taste the smallest grain,
But feeds on mallows, and such bitter herbs;
Nor like the merchant, who hath fill’d his vaults
With Romagnia, rich and Candian wines,
Yet drinks the lees of Lombard’s vinegar:
You will not lie in straw, whilst moths and worms 60
Feed on your sumptuous hangings and soft beds;
You know the use of riches, and dare give now
From that bright heap, to me, your poor observer,
Or to your dwarf, or your hermaphrodite,
Your eunuch, or what other household trifle 65
Your pleasure allows maintenance—

_Vol._ Hold thee, Mosca,
Take of my hand; thou strik’st on truth in all,
And they are envious term thee parasite.
Call forth my dwarf, my eunuch, and my fool,
And let ’em make me sport. [_Exit_ MOS.]
What should I do, 70
But cocker up my genius, and live free
To all delights my fortune calls me to?
I have no wife, no parent, child, ally,
To give my substance to; but whom I make
Must be my heir; and this makes men observe[1560] me: 75
This draws new clients daily to my house,
Women and men of every sex and age,
That bring me presents, send me plate, coin, jewels,
With hope that when I die (which they expect
Each greedy minute) it shall then return 80
Tenfold upon them; whilst some, covetous
Above the rest, seek to engross me whole,
And counter-work the one unto the other,
Contend in gifts, as they would seem in love:
All which I suffer, playing with their hopes, 85
And am content to coin ’em into profit,
And look upon their kindness, and take more,
And look on that; still bearing them in hand,[1561]
Letting the cherry knock against their lips,
And draw it by their mouths, and back again.—
How now! 91

SCENE II.[1562]

[_To him re-enter_] MOSCA, [_with_] NANO, ANDROGYNO, _and_ CASTRONE.

_Nan._ “Now, room for fresh gamesters, who do will you to know,
They do bring you neither play nor university show;
And therefore do intreat you that whatsoever they rehearse,
May not fare a whit the worse, for the false pace of the verse.
If you wonder at this, you will wonder more ere we pass, 5
For know, here[1563] is inclos’d the soul of Pythagoras,
That juggler divine, as hereafter shall follow;
Which soul, fast and loose, sir, came first from Apollo,
And was breath’d into Aethalides, Mercurius his son,
Where it had the gift to remember all that ever was done. 10
From thence it fled forth, and made quick transmigration
To goldy-lock’d Euphorbus, who was kill’d in good fashion,
At the siege of old Troy, by the cuckold of Sparta.
Hermotimus was next (I find it in my charta),
To whom it did pass, where no sooner it was missing, 15
But with one Pyrrhus of Delos it learn’d to go a-fishing;
And thence did it enter the sophist of Greece.
From Pythagore, she went into a beautiful piece,
Hight Aspasia, the meretrix; and the next toss of her
Was again of a whore, she became a philosopher,
Crates the cynick, as itself doth relate it: 21
Since kings, knights, and beggars, knaves, lords, and fools gat it,
Besides ox and ass, camel, mule, goat, and brock,[1564]
In all which it hath spoke, as in the cobbler’s cock.[1565] 24
But I come not here to discourse of that matter,
Or his one, two, or three, or his great oath, BY QUATER![1566]
His musics, his trigon,[1567] his golden thigh,
Or his telling how elements shift; but I
Would ask, how of late thou hast suffer’d translation,
And shifted thy coat in these days of reformation. 30

_And._ Like one of the reform’d, a fool, as you see,
Counting all old doctrine heresy.

_Nan._ But not on thine own forbid meats hast thou ventur’d?

_And._ On fish, when first a Carthusian I enter’d.

_Nan._ Why, then thy dogmatical silence hath left thee? 35

_And._ Of that an obstreperous lawyer bereft me.

_Nan._ O wonderful change, when sir lawyer forsook thee!
For Pythagore’s sake, what body then took thee?

_And._ A good dull mule.

_Nan._ And how! by that means
Thou wert brought to allow of the eating of beans? 40

_And._ Yes.

_Nan._ But from the mule into whom didst thou pass?

_And._ Into a very strange beast, by some writers call’d an ass;
By others a precise,[1568] pure, illuminate brother
Of those devour flesh, and sometimes one another;
And will drop you forth a libel, or a sanctifi’d lie,
Betwixt every spoonful of a nativity-pie.[1569] 46

_Nan._ Now quit thee, for heaven, of that profane nation,
And gently report thy next transmigration.

_And._ To the same that I am.

_Nan._ A creature of delight,
And, what is more than a fool, an hermaphrodite! 50
Now, prithee, sweet soul, in all thy variation,
Which body wouldst thou choose to keep up thy station?

_And._ Troth, this I am in: even here would I tarry.

_Nan._ ’Cause here the delight of each sex thou canst vary?

_And._ Alas, those pleasures be stale and forsaken; 55
No, ’t is your fool wherewith I am so taken,
The only one creature that I can call blessed;
For all other forms I have prov’d most distressed.

_Nan._ Spoke true, as thou wert in Pythagoras still.
This learned opinion we celebrate will, 60
Fellow eunuch, as behoves us, with all our wit and art,
To dignify that whereof ourselves are so great and special a part.”

_Volp._ Now, very, very pretty! Mosca, this
Was thy invention?

_Mos._ If it please my patron,
Not else.

_Volp._ It doth, good Mosca.

_Mos._ Then it was, sir. 65

[NANO _and_ CASTRONE _sing_.]

Song.

“Fools, they are the only nation
Worth men’s envy or admiration;
Free from care or sorrow-taking,
Selves and others merry making:
All they speak or do is sterling. 70
Your fool he is your great man’s darling,
And your ladies’ sport and pleasure;
Tongue and bauble are his treasure.
E’en his face begetteth laughter,
And he speaks truth free from slaughter;[1570] 75
He’s the grace of every feast,
And sometimes the chiefest guest;
Hath his trencher and his stool,
When wit waits upon the fool.
O, who would not be 80
He, he, he?”
_One knocks without._

_Volp._ Who ’s that? Away! Look, Mosca.
Fool, begone!
[_Exeunt_ NANO, CAST. _and_ ANDRO.]

_Mos._ ’T is Signior Voltore, the advocate;
I know him by his knock.

_Volp._ Fetch me my gown,
My furs, and night-caps; say my couch is changing 85
And let him entertain himself awhile
Without i’ th’ gallery. [_Exit_ MOSCA.] Now, now my clients
Begin their visitation! Vulture, kite,
Raven, and gorcrow,[1571] all my birds of prey, 89
That think me turning carcase, now they come:
I am not for ’em yet.
[_Re-enter_ MOSCA, _with the gown, etc._]
How now! the news?

_Mos._ A piece of plate, sir.

_Volp._ Of what bigness?

_Mos._ Huge,
Massy, and antique, with your name inscrib’d,
And arms engraven.

_Volp._ Good! and not a fox 94
Stretcht on the earth, with fine delusive sleights,
Mocking a gaping crow? ha, Mosca!

_Mos._ Sharp, sir.

_Volp._ Give me my furs.
[_Puts on his sick dress_.]
Why dost thou laugh so, man?

_Mos._ I cannot choose, sir, when I apprehend
What thoughts he has without now, as he walks: 99
That this might be the last gift he should give,
That this would fetch you; if you died to-day,
And gave him all, what he should be to-morrow;
What large return would come of all his ventures; 103
How he should worshipp’d be, and reverenc’d;
Ride with his furs, and foot cloths; waited on
By herds of fools and clients; have clear way
Made for his mule, as letter’d as himself;
Be call’d the great and learned advocate: 108
And then concludes, there’s nought impossible.

_Volp._ Yes, to be learned, Mosca.

_Mos._ O, no: rich
Implies it. Hood an ass with reverend purple,
So you can hide his two ambitious[1572] ears,
And he shall pass for a cathedral doctor.

_Volp._ My caps, my caps, good Mosca. Fetch him in. 114

_Mos._ Stay, sir; your ointment for your eyes.

_Volp._ That ’s true;
Dispatch, dispatch: I long to have possession
Of my new present.

_Mos._ That, and thousands more,
I hope to see you lord of.

_Volp._ Thanks, kind Mosca.

_Mos._ And that, when I am lost in blended dust,
And hundreds such as I am, in succession— 120

_Volp._ Nay, that were too much, Mosca.

_Mos._ You shall live
Still to delude these harpies.

_Volp._ Loving Mosca!
’T is well: my pillow now, and let him enter.

[_Exit_ MOSCA.]

Now, my feign’d cough, my phthisic, and my gout,
My apoplexy, palsy, and catarrhs, 125
Help, with your forced functions, this my posture,
Wherein, this three year, I have milk’d their hopes.
He comes; I hear him—Uh! [_coughing_] uh! uh! uh! O——

SCENE III[1573]

VOLPONE; [_re-enter_ MOSCA, [_introducing_] VOLTORE [_with a piece of plate_.]

_Mos._ You still are what you were, sir. Only you,
Of all the rest, are he commands his love,
And you do wisely to preserve it thus,
With early visitation, and kind notes
Of your good meaning to him, which, I know, 5
Cannot but come most grateful. Patron! sir!
Here’s Signior Voltore is come——

_Volp._ [_Faintly._] What say you?

_Mos._ Sir, Signior Voltore is come this morning
To visit you.

_Volp._ I thank him.

_Mos._ And hath brought
A piece of antique plate, bought of St. Mark,[1574]
With which he here presents you.

_Volp._ He is welcome. 11
Pray him to come more often.

_Mos._ Yes.

_Volt._ What says he?

_Mos._ He thanks you, and desires you see him often.

_Volp._ Mosca.

_Mos._ My patron!

_Volp._ Bring him near, where is he?
I long to feel his hand.

_Mos._ The plate is here, sir. 15

_Volt._ How fare you, sir?

_Volp._ I thank you, Signior Voltore;
Where is the plate? mine eyes are bad.

_Volt._ [_putting it into his hands._] I’m sorry
To see you still thus weak.

_Mos._ [_Aside._] That he’s not weaker.

_Volp._ You are too munificent.

_Volt._ No, sir; would to heaven
I could as well give health to you, as that plate! 20

_Volp._ You give, sir, what you can; I thank you. Your love
Hath taste in this, and shall not be unanswer’d:
I pray you see me often.

_Volt._ Yes, I shall, sir.

_Volp._ Be not far from me.

_Mos._ Do you observe that, sir?

_Volp._ Hearken unto me still; it will concern you. 25

_Mos._ You are a happy man, sir; know your good.

_Volp._ I cannot now last long——

_Mos._ (_Aside._) You are his heir, sir.

_Volt._ (_Aside._) Am I?

_Volp._ I feel me going: Uh! uh! uh! uh!
I’m sailing to my port. Uh! uh! uh! uh!
And I am glad I am so near my haven. 30

_Mos._ Alas, kind gentleman! Well, we must all go——

_Volt._ But, Mosca——

_Mos._ Age will conquer.

_Volt._ Prithee, hear me;
Am I inscrib’d his heir for certain?

_Mos._ Are you!
I do beseech you, sir, you will vouchsafe
To write me i’ your family. All my hopes 35
Depend upon your worship: I am lost
Except the rising sun do shine on me.

_Volt._ It shall both shine, and warm thee, Mosca.

_Mos._ Sir,
I am a man that hath not done your love
All the worst offices: here I wear your keys, 40
See all your coffers and your caskets lock’d,
Keep the poor inventory of your jewels,
Your plate, and monies; am your steward, sir,
Husband your goods here.

_Volt._ But am I sole heir?

_Mos._ Without a partner, sir: confirm’d this morning: 45
The wax is warm yet, and the ink scarce dry
Upon the parchment.

_Volt._ Happy, happy me!
By what good chance, sweet Mosca?

_Mos._ Your desert, sir;
I know no second cause.

_Volt._ Thy modesty
Is loth to know it; well, we shall requite it. 50

_Mos._ He ever lik’d your course, sir; that first took him.
I oft have heard him say how he admir’d
Men of your large profession, that could speak
To every cause, and things mere contraries,
Till they were hoarse again, yet all be law; 55
That, with most quick agility, could turn,
And return;[1575] make knots, and undo them;
Give forked counsel; take provoking gold
On either hand, and put it up; these men,
He knew, would thrive with their humility, 60
And, for his part, he thought he should be blest
To have his heir of such a suff’ring spirit,
So wise, so grave, of so perplex’d a tongue,
And loud withal, that would not wag, nor scarce
Lie still, without a fee; when every word 65
Your worship but lets fall, is a chequin!—
_Another knocks._
Who’s that? one knocks; I would not have you seen, sir.
And yet—pretend you came and went in haste;
I’ll fashion an excuse—and, gentle sir,
When you do come to swim in golden lard, 70
Up to the arms in honey, that your chin
Is borne up stiff with fatness of the flood,
Think on your vassal; but remember me:
I ha’ not been your worst of clients.

_Volt._ Mosca!——

_Mos._ When will you have your inventory brought, sir? 75
Or see a copy of the will?—Anon!
I ’ll bring them to you, sir. Away, begone.
Put business i’ your face. [_Exit_ VOLTORE.]

_Volp._ [_Springing up._] Excellent Mosca!
Come hither, let me kiss thee.

_Mos._ Keep you still, sir,
Here is Corbaccio.

_Volp._ Set the plate away: 80
The vulture’s gone, and the old raven’s come.

Scene IV.[1576]

MOSCA, VOLPONE.

_Mos._ Betake you to your silence, and your sleep.
Stand there and multiply. [_Putting the plate to the rest._]
Now we shall see
A wretch who is indeed more impotent
Than this can feign to be; yet hopes to hop
Over his grave.
[_Enter_ CORBACCIO.]
Signior Corbaccio! 5
You’re very welcome, sir.

_Corb._ How does your patron?

_Mos._ Troth, as he did, sir; no amends.

_Corb._ What! mends he?

_Mos._ No, sir: he ’s rather worse.

_Corb._ That ’s well. Where is he?

_Mos._ Upon his couch, sir, newly fall’n asleep.

_Corb._ Does he sleep well?

_Mos._ No wink, sir, all this night, 10
Nor yesterday; but slumbers.

_Corb._ Good! he should take
Some counsel of physicians: I have brought him
An opiate here, from mine own doctor.

_Mos._ He will not hear of drugs.

_Corb._ Why? I myself
Stood by while ’t was made, saw all th’ ingredients; 15
And know it cannot but most gently work:
My life for his, ’t is but to make him sleep.

_Volp._ [_Aside._] Ay, his last sleep, if he would take it.

_Mos._ Sir,
He has no faith in physic.

_Corb._ Say you, say you?

_Mos._ He has no faith in physic: he does think 20
Most of your doctors are the greater danger,
And worse disease, t’ escape. I often have
Heard him protest that your physician
Should never be his heir.

_Corb._ Not I his heir?

_Mos._ Not your physician, sir.

_Corb._ O, no, no, no, 25
I do not mean it.

_Mos._ No, sir, nor their fees
He cannot brook; he says they flay a man
Before they kill him.

_Corb._ Right, I do conceive you.

_Mos._ And then they do it by experiment;
For which the law not only doth absolve ’em,
But gives them great reward: and he is loth 31
To hire his death so.

_Corb._ It is true, they kill
With as much licence as a judge.

_Mos._ Nay, more;
For he but kills, sir, where the law condemns,
And these can kill him too.

_Corb._ Ay, or me; 35
Or any man. How does his apoplex?
Is that strong on him still?

_Mos._ Most violent.
His speech is broken, and his eyes are set,
His face drawn longer than ’t was wont——

_Corb._ How! how!
Stronger than he was wont?

_Mos._ No, sir; his face 40
Drawn longer than ’t was wont.

_Corb._ O, good!

_Mos._ His mouth
Is ever gaping, and his eyelids hang.

_Corb._ Good.

_Mos._ A freezing numbness stiffens all his joints,
And makes the colour of his flesh like lead.

_Corb._ ’T is good.

_Mos._ His pulse beats slow, and dull.

_Corb._ Good symptoms still. 45

_Mos._ And from his brain——

_Corb._ Ha? How? Not from his brain?

_Mos._ Yes, sir, and from his brain—

_Corb._ I conceive you; good.

_Mos._ Flows a cold sweat, with a continual rheum,
Forth the resolved corners of his eyes.

_Corb._ Is ’t possible? Yet I am better, ha! 50
How does he with the swimming of his head?

_Mos._ O, sir, ’t is past the scotomy;[1577] he now
Hath lost his feeling, and hath left to snort:
You hardly can perceive him, that he breathes.

_Corb._ Excellent, excellent! sure I shall outlast him: 55
This makes me young again, a score of years.

_Mos._ I was a-coming for you, sir.

_Corb._ Has he made his will?
What has he giv’n me?

_Mos._ No, sir.

_Corb._ Nothing! ha?

_Mos._ He has not made his will, sir.

_Corb._ Oh, oh, oh!
What then did Voltore, the lawyer, here? 60

_Mos._ He smelt a carcase, sir, when he but heard
My master was about his testament;
As I did urge him to it for your good——

_Corb._ He came unto him, did he? I thought so.

_Mos._ Yes, and presented him this piece of plate. 65

_Corb._ To be his heir?

_Mos._ I do not know, sir.

_Corb._ True:
I know it too.

_Mos._ [_Aside._] By your own scale, sir.

_Corb._ Well,
I shall prevent him yet. See, Mosca, look,
Here I have brought a bag of bright chequins,[1578]
Will quite lay down his plate.

_Mos._ [_taking the bag._] Yea, marry, sir. 70
This is true physic, this your sacred medicine;
No talk of opiates to this great elixir!

_Corb._ ’T is _aurum palpabile_, if not _potabile_.

_Mos._ It shall be minister’d to him in his bowl.

_Corb._ Ay, do, do, do.

_Mos._ Most blessed cordial! 75
This will recover him.

_Corb._ Yes, do, do, do.

_Mos._ I think it were not best, sir.

_Corb._ What?

_Mos._ To recover him.

_Corb._ O, no, no, no; by no means.

_Mos._ Why, sir, this
Will work some strange effect, if he but feel it.

_Corb._ ’T is true, therefore forbear; I ’ll take my venture: 80
Give me ’t again.

_Mos._ At no hand: pardon me:
You shall not do yourself that wrong, sir. I
Will so advise you, you shall have it all.

_Corb._ How?

_Mos._ All, sir; ’t is your right, your own; no man
Can claim a part: ’t is yours without a rival, 85
Decreed by destiny.

_Corb._ How, how, good Mosca?

_Mos._ I’ll tell you, sir. This fit he shall recover.—

_Corb._ I do conceive you.

_Mos._ And on first advantage
Of his gain’d sense, will I re-importune him
Unto the making of his testament: 90
And show him this. [_Pointing to the money._]

_Corb._ Good, good.

_Mos._ ’T is better yet.
If you will hear, sir.

_Corb._ Yes, with all my heart.

_Mos._ Now would I counsel you, make home with speed;
There, frame a will; whereto you shall inscribe
My master your sole heir.

_Corb._ And disinherit 95
My son?

_Mos._ O, sir, the better: for that colour[1579]
Shall make it much more taking.

_Corb._ O, but colour?

_Mos._ This will, sir, you shall send it unto me.
Now, when I come to inforce, as I will do,
Your cares, your watchings, and your many prayers, 100
Your more than many gifts, your this day’s present,
And last, produce your will; where, without thought,
Or least regard, unto your proper issue,
A son so brave, and highly meriting,
The stream of your diverted love hath thrown you 105
Upon my master, and made him your heir;
He cannot be so stupid, or stone-dead,
But out of conscience and mere gratitude——

_Corb._ He must pronounce me his?

_Mos._ ’T is true.

_Corb._ This plot
Did I think on before.

_Mos._ I do believe it. 110

_Corb._ Do you not believe it?

_Mos._ Yes, sir,

_Corb._ Mine own project.

_Mos._ Which, when he hath done, sir——

_Corb._ Publish’d me his heir?

_Mos._ And you so certain to survive him——

_Corb._ Ay.

_Mos._ Being so lusty a man——

_Corb._ ’T is true.

_Mos._ Yes, sir——

_Corb._ I thought on that too. See, how he should be 115
The very organ to express my thoughts!

_Mos._ You have not only done yourself a good——

_Corb._ But multipli’d it on my son.

_Mos._ ’T is right, sir.

_Corb._ Still, my invention.

_Mos._ ’Las, sir! heaven knows,
It hath been all my study, all my care, 120
(I e’en grow gray withal,) now to work things——

_Corb._ I do conceive, sweet Mosca.

_Mos._ You are he
For whom I labour here.

_Corb._ Ay, do, do, do:
I ’ll straight about it. [_Going._]

_Mos._ [_Aside._] Rook go with you,[1580] raven!

_Corb._ I know thee honest.

_Mos._ You do lie, sir!

_Corb._ And—— 125

_Mos._ Your knowledge is no better than your ears, sir.

_Corb._ I do not doubt to be a father to thee.

_Mos._ Nor I to gull my brother of his blessing.

_Corb._ I may ha’ my youth restor’d to me, why not?

_Mos._ Your worship is a precious ass!

_Corb._ What sayst thou?

_Mos._ I do desire your worship to make haste, sir. 131

_Corb._ ’T is done, ’t is done; I go. [_Exit_]

_Volp._ [_leaping from his couch._] O, I shall burst!
Let out my sides, let out my sides——

_Mos._ Contain
Your flux of laughter, sir: you know this hope
Is such a bait, it covers any hook. 135

_Volp._ O, but thy working, and thy placing it!
I cannot hold; good rascal, let me kiss thee:
I never knew thee in so rare a humour.

_Mos._ Alas, sir, I but do as I am taught;
Follow your grave instructions; give ’em words; 140
Pour oil into their ears, and send them hence.

_Volp._ ’T is true, ’t is true. What a rare punishment
Is avarice to itself!

_Mos._ Ay, with our help, sir.

_Volp._ So many cares, so many maladies,
So many fears attending on old age. 145
Yea, so often call’d on, as no wish
Can be more frequent with ’em, their limbs faint,
Their senses dull, their seeing, hearing, going,
All dead before them; yea, their very teeth,
Their instruments of eating, failing them: 150
Yet this is reckon’d life! Nay, here was one,
Is now gone home, that wishes to live longer!
Feels not his gout, nor palsy; feigns himself
Younger by scores of years, flatters his age
With confident belying it, hopes he may 155
With charms like Aeson, have his youth restor’d;
And with these thoughts so battens, as if fate
Would be as easily cheated on as he,
And all turns air! Who ’s that there, now? a third! _Another knocks_.

_Mos._ Close, to your couch again; I hear his voice. 160
It is Corvino, our spruce merchant.

_Volp._ [_Lies down as before_.] Dead.

_Mos._ Another bout, sir, with your eyes [_Anointing them_].
Who ’s there?

SCENE V.[1581]

MOSCA, VOLPONE. [_Enter_] CORVINO.

Signior Corvino! come most wish’d for! O,
How happy were you, if you knew it, now!

_Corv._ Why? what? wherein?

_Mos._ The tardy hour is come, sir.

_Corv._ He is not dead?

_Mos._ Not dead, sir, but as good;
He knows no man.

_Corv._ How shall I do then?

_Mos._ Why, sir? 5

_Corv._ I have brought him here a pearl.

_Mos._ Perhaps he has
So much remembrance left as to know you, sir:
He still calls on you; nothing but your name
Is in his mouth. Is your pearl orient,[1582] sir?

_Corv._ Venice was never owner of the like. 10

_Volp._ [_faintly._] Signior Corvino!

_Mos._ Hark!

_Volp._ Signior Corvino.

_Mos._ He calls you; step and give it him.— He’s here, sir.
And he has brought you a rich pearl.

_Corv._ How do you, sir?
Tell him it doubles the twelve carat.

_Mos._ Sir,
He cannot understand, his hearing’s gone; 15
And yet it comforts him to see you——

_Corv._ Say
I have a diamond for him, too.

_Mos._ Best show ’t, sir;
Put it into his hand: ’t is only there
He apprehends: he has his feeling yet.
See how he grasps it!

_Corv._ ’Las, good gentleman! 20
How pitiful the sight is!

_Mos._ Tut, forget, sir.
The weeping of an heir should still be laughter
Under a visor.

_Corv._ Why, am I his heir?

_Mos._ Sir, I am sworn, I may not show the will
Till he be dead: but here has been Corbaccio,
Here has been Voltore, here were others too, 26
I cannot number ’em, they were so many;
All gaping here for legacies: but I,
Taking the vantage of his naming you,
_Signior Corvino_, _Signior Corvino_, took 30
Paper, and pen, and ink, and there I ask’d him
Whom he would have his heir! _Corvino_. Who
Should be executor? _Corvino_. And
To any question he was silent to,
I still interpreted the nods he made, 35
Through weakness, for consent: and sent home th’ others,
Nothing bequeath’d them, but to cry and curse.

_Corv._ O, my dear Mosca. (_They embrace._) Does he not perceive us?

_Mos._ No more than a blind harper. He knows no man,
No face of friend, nor name of any servant, 40
Who ’t was that fed him last, or gave him drink.
Not those he hath begotten, or brought up,
Can he remember.

_Corv._ Has he children?

_Mos._ Bastards,
Some dozen, or more, that he begot on beggars,
Gypsies, and Jews, and black-moors, when he was drunk. 45
Knew you not that, sir? ’t is the common fable,
The dwarf, the fool, the eunuch, are all his;
He’s the true father of his family,
In all save me:—but he has giv’n ’em nothing.

_Corv._ That’s well, that’s well! Art sure he does not hear us? 50

_Mos._ Sure, sir! why, look you, credit your
own sense. [_Shouts in_ VOL.’s _ear_.]
The pox approach, and add to your diseases,
If it would send you hence the sooner, sir,
For your incontinence, it hath deserv’d it
Throughly and throughly, and the plague to boot!— 55
You may come near, sir.—Would you would once close
Those filthy eyes of yours, that flow with slime
Like two frog-pits; and those same hanging cheeks,
Cover’d with hide instead of skin—Nay, help, sir[1583]——
That look like frozen dish-clouts set on end! 60

_Corv._ Or like an old smok’d wall, on which the rain
Ran down in streaks!

_Mos._ Excellent, sir! speak out:
You may be louder yet; a culverin
Discharged in his ear would hardly bore it.

_Corv._ His nose is like a common sewer, still running. 65

_Mos._ ’T is good! And what his mouth?

_Corv._ A very draught.

_Mos._ O, stop it up——

_Corv._ By no means.

_Mos._ Pray you, let me:
Faith I could stifle him rarely with a pillow
As well as any woman that should keep him.

_Corv._ Do as you will; but I’ll begone.

_Mos._ Be so; 70
It is your presence makes him last so long.

_Corv._ I pray you use no violence.

_Mos._ No, sir! why?
Why should you be thus scrupulous, pray you, sir?

_Corv._ Nay, at your discretion.

_Mos._ Well, good sir, be gone.

_Corv._ I will not trouble him now to take[1584] my pearl. 75

_Mos._ Puh! nor your diamond. What a needless care
Is this afflicts you? Is not all here yours?
Am not I here, whom you have made your creature?
That owe my being to you?

_Corv._ Grateful Mosca! 79
Thou art my friend, my fellow, my companion,
My partner, and shalt share in all my fortunes.

_Mos._ Excepting one.

_Corv._ What’s that?

_Mos._ Your gallant wife, sir. [_Exit_ CORV.]
Now is he gone: we had no other means
To shoot him hence but this.

_Volp._ My divine Mosca! 85
Thou hast to-day outgone thyself. Who’s there?
_Another knocks._
I will be troubled with no more. Prepare
Me music, dances, banquets, all delights;
The Turk is not more sensual in his pleasures
Than will Volpone. [_Exit_ MOS.] Let me see; a pearl!
A diamond! plate! chequins! Good morning’s purchase.[1585] 90
Why, this is better than rob churches, yet;
Or fat, by eating, once a month, a man——
[_Re-enter_ MOSCA.]
Who is ’t?

_Mos._ The beauteous Lady Would-be, sir,
Wife to the English knight, Sir Politic Would-be,
(This is the style, sir, is directed me,) 95
Hath sent to know how you have slept to-night,
And if you would be visited?

_Volp._ Not now:
Some three hours hence.

_Mos._ I told the squire[1586] so much.

_Volp._ When I am high with mirth and wine; then then: 99
’Fore heaven, I wonder at the desperate valour
Of the bold English, that they dare let loose
Their wives to all encounters!

_Mos._ Sir, this knight
Had not his name for nothing, he is _politic_,
And knows, howe’er his wife affect strange airs,
She hath not yet the face to be dishonest: 105
But had she Signior Corvino’s wife’s face——

_Volp._ Hath she so rare a face?

_Mos._ O, sir, the wonder,
The blazing star of Italy! a wench
Of the first year, a beauty ripe as harvest!
Whose skin is whiter than a swan all over, 110
Than silver, snow, or lilies; a soft lip,
Would tempt you to eternity of kissing!
And flesh that melteth in the touch to blood!
Bright as your gold, and lovely as your gold!

_Volp._ Why had not I known this before?

_Mos._ Alas, sir, 115
Myself but yesterday discover’d it.

_Volp._ How might I see her?

_Mos._ O, not possible;
She’s kept as warily as is your gold;
Never does come abroad, never takes air
But at a windore. All her looks are sweet, 120
As the first grapes or cherries, and are watch’d
As near as they are.

_Volp._ I must see her.

_Mos._ Sir,
There is a guard of ten spies thick upon her,
All his whole household; each of which is set
Upon his fellow, and have all their charge, 125
When he goes out, when he comes in, examin’d.

_Volp._ I will go see her, though but at her windore.

_Mos._ In some disguise then.

_Volp._ That is true; I must
Maintain mine own shape still the same: we’ll think. [_Exeunt._]