Volpone Or the Fox Part 29

Marry, and shall: 'pray you, fairly quit my house.

Nay, raise no tempest with your looks; but hark you, Remember what your ladys.h.i.+p offer'd me, To put you in an heir; go to, think on it: And what you said e'en your best madams did For maintenance, and why not you? Enough.

Go home, and use the poor sir Pol, your knight, well, For fear I tell some riddles; go, be melancholy.

[EXIT LADY WOULD-BE.]

VOLP: O, my fine devil!

CORV: Mosca, 'pray you a word.

MOS: Lord! will you not take your dispatch hence yet?

Methinks, of all, you should have been the example.

Why should you stay here? with what thought? what promise?

Hear you; do not you know, I know you an a.s.s, And that you would most fain have been a wittol, If fortune would have let you? that you are A declared cuckold, on good terms? This pearl, You'll say, was yours? right: this diamond?

I'll not deny't, but thank you. Much here else?

It may be so. Why, think that these good works May help to hide your bad. I'll not betray you; Although you be but extraordinary, And have it only in t.i.tle, it sufficeth: Go home, be melancholy too, or mad.

[EXIT CORVINO.]

VOLP: Rare Mosca! how his villany becomes him!

VOLT: Certain he doth delude all these for me.

CORB: Mosca the heir!

VOLP: O, his four eyes have found it.

CORB: I am cozen'd, cheated, by a parasite slave; Harlot, thou hast gull'd me.

MOS: Yes, sir. Stop your mouth, Or I shall draw the only tooth is left.

Are not you he, that filthy covetous wretch, With the three legs, that, here, in hope of prey, Have, any time this three years, snuff'd about, With your most grovelling nose; and would have hired Me to the poisoning of my patron, sir?

Are not you he that have to-day in court Profess'd the disinheriting of your son?

Perjured yourself? Go home, and die, and stink.

If you but croak a syllable, all comes out: Away, and call your porters!

[exit corbaccio.]

Go, go, stink.

VOLP: Excellent varlet!

VOLT: Now, my faithful Mosca, I find thy constancy.

MOS: Sir!

VOLT: Sincere.

MOS [WRITING.]: "A table Of porphyry"-I marle, you'll be thus troublesome.

VOLP: Nay, leave off now, they are gone.

MOS: Why? who are you?

What! who did send for you? O, cry you mercy, Reverend sir! Good faith, I am grieved for you, That any chance of mine should thus defeat Your (I must needs say) most deserving travails: But I protest, sir, it was cast upon me, And I could almost wish to be without it, But that the will o' the dead must be observ'd, Marry, my joy is that you need it not, You have a gift, sir, (thank your education,) Will never let you want, while there are men, And malice, to breed causes. Would I had But half the like, for all my fortune, sir!

If I have any suits, as I do hope, Things being so easy and direct, I shall not, I will make bold with your obstreperous aid, Conceive me,-for your fee, sir. In mean time, You that have so much law, I know have the conscience, Not to be covetous of what is mine.

Good sir, I thank you for my plate; 'twill help To set up a young man. Good faith, you look As you were costive; best go home and purge, sir.

[EXIT VOLTORE.]

VOLP [COMES FROM BEHIND THE CURTAIN.]: Bid him eat lettuce well.

My witty mischief, Let me embrace thee. O that I could now Transform thee to a Venus!-Mosca, go, Straight take my habit of clarissimo, And walk the streets; be seen, torment them more: We must pursue, as well as plot. Who would Have lost this feast?

MOS: I doubt it will lose them.

VOLP: O, my recovery shall recover all.

That I could now but think on some disguise To meet them in, and ask them questions: How I would vex them still at every turn!

MOS: Sir, I can fit you.

VOLP: Canst thou?

MOS: Yes, I know One o' the commandadori, sir, so like you; Him will I straight make drunk, and bring you his habit.

VOLP: A rare disguise, and answering thy brain!

O, I will be a sharp disease unto them.

MOS: Sir, you must look for curses-

VOLP: Till they burst; The Fox fares ever best when he is curst.

[EXEUNT.]

SCENE 5.2.

A HALL IN SIR POLITICK'S HOUSE.

ENTER PEREGRINE DISGUISED, AND THREE MERCHANTS.

PER: Am I enough disguised?

1 MER: I warrant you.

PER: All my ambition is to fright him only.

2 MER: If you could s.h.i.+p him away, 'twere excellent.

3 MER: To Zant, or to Aleppo?

PER: Yes, and have his Adventures put i' the Book of Voyages.

And his gull'd story register'd for truth.

Well, gentlemen, when I am in a while, And that you think us warm in our discourse, Know your approaches.

1 MER: Trust it to our care.