Nan. 'Cause here the delight of each sex thou can'st vary? -And. Alas! those pleasures be stale, and forsaken; No, 'tis your fool wherewith I am so taken, This learned opinion we celebrate will, To dignify that, whereof ourselves are so great and special a part. Vol. Now, very, very pretty : Mosca, this Mos. If it please my patron, not else. Mos. Then it was, sir. SONG. Fools, they are the only nation Tis signior Voltore, the advocate, I know him by his knock. Volp. Fetch me my gown, What thoughts he has (without) now, as he walks, Implies it. Hood an ass with reverend purple, Volp. My caps, my caps, good Mosca: fetch him in. 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, An hundred such as I am, in successionVolp. Nay, that were too much, Mosca. Mos. You shall live, Still, to delude these harpies. Volp. Loving Mosca, 'Tis well ; my pillow, now, and let him enter. Now, my feigned cough, my phthisic, and my gout. My apoplexy, palsy, and catarrhs, Help, with your forced functions, this my posture, Wherein, these three years, I have milked their hopes. He comes, I hear him, uh, uh, uh, uh, O. SCENE III. MOSCA, VOLTORE, and VOLPONE. Mos. You still are, what you were, sir. Only you (Of all the rest) are he, commands his love : My furs and night-caps ; say, my couch's chan- | And you do wisely, to preserve it, thus, With early visitation, and kind notes Volp. 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, With which he here presents you. Volp. He is welcome. Pray him to come more often. Mos. Yes. Volt. What says he? Mos. He thanks you, and desires you to sce him often. Volp. Mosca. And return; make knots, and undo them; Mos. When will you have your inventory Or see a copy of the will? anon, I'll bring 'em to you, sir. Away, be gone, Volp. Excellent Mosca ! Come hither, let me kiss thee. Mos. Keep you still, sir, Mos. Alas, kind gentleman; well, we must all Here is Corbaccio. go Volt. But Mosca Mos. Age will conquer. Volt. Pr'ythee hear me. Am I inscribed his heir for certain? Mos. Are you? I do beseech you, sir, you will vouchsafe Volt. It shall both shine and warm thee, Mosca. I am a man that have not done your love Volt. But am I sole heir? Mos. Without a partner, sir, confirmed this morning; The wax is warm yet, and the ink scarce dry Volt. Happy, happy me! By what good chance, sweet Mosca ? I know no second cause. Volt. Thy modesty Is loth to know it; well, we shall requite it. took him. I oft have heard him say, how he admired Volp. Set the plate away, [Erit VOLT. The vulture's gone, and the old raven's come. SCENE IV. MOSCA, CORBACCIO, and VOLPONE. Mos. Betake you to your silence, and your sleep: Stand there, and multiply. Now shall we see Corb. How does your patron? Mos. No, sir; he is rather worse. Corb. That's well. Where is he? Mos. Upon his couch, sir, newly fallen asleep. Corb. Does he sleep well? Mos. No wink, sir, all this night, Nor yesterday; but slumbers. Corb. Good! He should take Some counsel of physicians: I have brought him Forth the resolved corners of his eyes. Corb. Is't possible? yet I am better, ha! This makes me young again a score of years. Corb. Has he made his will? What has he given 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? 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 35 Corb. He came unto him, did he? I thought so. Mos. I do not know, sir. Corb. True, I know it too. Corb. Well; I shall prevent him, yet. See, Here, I have brought a bag of bright cecchines, Will quite weigh down his plate. Mos. Yea, marry, sir. This is true physic, this your sacred medicine e; No talk of opiates, to this great elixir. Corb. 'Tis aurum palpabile, if not potabile. Mos. It shall be ministered to him in his bowl? Corb. Ay, do, do, do. Mos. Most blessed cordial. 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. 'Tis true, therefore forbear, I'll take my venture; Give me❜t again. Mos. At no hand; pardon me; You shall not do yourself that wrong, sir. I Mos. All, sir, 'tis your right, your own; no man Can claim a part: 'Tis yours, without a rival, Decreed by destiny. Corb. How? how, good Mosca ? Mos. I'll tell you, sir. This fit he shall re Cover Corb. I do conceive you. Mos. And, on first advantage Of his gained sense, will I re-importune him Corb. Good, good. 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. my son ? Corb. And disinherit Mos. O, sir, the better: for that colour 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, Your more than many gifts, your this day's pre sent, And last, produce your will; where (without thought, Or least regard, unto your proper issue, A son so brave, and highly meriting) 36 The stream of your diverted love hath thrown you Corb. This plot did I think on before. Corb. Do you not believe it? Mos. Yes, sir. Corb. Mine own project. Mos. Which when he hath done, sir- Mos. And you so certain to survive him— Mos. Being so lusty a man Corb. 'Tis true. Mos. Yes, sir Corb. I thought on that too. See, how he should be The very organ, to express my thoughts! Corb. Still, my invention. Mos. 'Las, sir, Heaven knows, It hath been all my study, all my care, (I e'en grow grey withal) how to work thingsCorb. I do conceive, sweet Mosca. Mos. You are he, for whom I labour here. Corb. I know thee honest. Mos. You do lie, sir Corb. And Mos. Your knowledge is no better than your cares, 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 restored to me, why not? Mos. Your worship is a precious assCorb. What say'st thou ? Mos. I do desire your worship to make haste, sir. Corb. 'Tis done, 'tis done, I go. Volp. O, I shall burst; Let out my sides, let out my sides Mos. Contain [Exit. Your flux of laughter, sir: you know, this hope Is such a bait, it covers my hook. 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; Pour oil into their ears; and send them hence. Volp. 'Tis true, 'tis true. What a rare punishment Is avarice, to itself? Mos. Ay, with our help, sir. Volp. So many cares, so many maladies, Can be more frequent with 'em, their limbs faint, Their senses dull, their seeing, hearing, going, And with these thoughts so battens, as if fate And all turns air! Who's that there, now? a third? [Another knocks. Mos. Close, to your couch again: I hear his voice. It is Corvino, our spruce merchant. Mos. Another bout, sir, with your eyes. Who's here, sir, And he has brought you a rich pearl. Cory. How do you, sir? Tell him it doubles the twelfth caract. He cannot understand, his hearing's gone; I have a diamond for him too. Mos. Best shew't, sir, Put it into his hand; 'tis only there Corv. 'Las, good gentleman! Mos. Tut, forget, sir. The weeping of an heir should still be laughter, Under a visor. Core. Why? am I his heir? Mos. Sir, I am sworn, I may not shew the will Till he be dead: but, here has been Corbaccio, | Here has been Voltore, here were others too, I cannot number 'em, they were so many, All gaping here for legacies; but I, Taking the advantage of his naming you, (Signior Corvino, Signior Corvino) took 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, (Through weakness) for consent: and sent home th'others, Nothing bequeath'd them, but to cry and curse. Coro. O, my dear Mosca. Does he not per[They embrace. Mos. No more than a blind harper. He knows ceive us? no man. No face of friend, nor name of any servant, Corv. Has he children? Mos. Bastards, Some dozen, or more, that he begot on beggars, Gipsies, and Jews, and Blackamoors, when he was drunk. Knew you not that, sir? 'Tis the common fable. In all, save me: but he has giv'n 'em nothing. Co. That's well, that's well. Art sure he does not hear us? Mos. Sure, sir? Why, look you, credit your own sense. 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. (You may come near, sir,) would you would once close Those filthy eyes of your's, that flow with slime, Like two frog-pits; and those same hanging cheeks, Cover'd with hide, instead of skin: (Nay, help, sir,) That look like frozen dish-clouts, set on end. Cort. Or, like an old smok'd wall, on which the rain Ran down in streaks. Mos. Excellent, sir, speak out; Mos. 'Tis good! and, what his mouth? Faith, I could stifle him, rarely, with a pillow, It is your presence makes him last so long. Corv. Nay, at your discretion. Mos. Well, good sir, be gone. Corv. I will not trouble him now, to take my pearl ? Mos. Puh, nor your diamond. What a needless care Is this afflicts you? Is not all here yours? That owe my being to you? Thou art my friend, my fellow, my companion, 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! Thou hast to-day outgone thyself. Who's there? [Another knocks. I will be troubled with no more. Prepare Why, this is better than rob churches yet; Mos. The beauteous lady Would-be, sir, Volp. Not now. Some three hours hence Mos. I told the squire so much. Volp. When I am high with mirth and wine: Then, then. 'Fore Heav'n, 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, The blazing star of Italy! a wench O' the first year! a beauty ripe as harvest! Myself but yesterday discovered it. Mos. O, not possible; She's kept as warily as is your gold: |