Part 8
MOS: I fear He'll outlast May.
CORB: To-day?
MOS: No, last out May, sir.
CORB: Could'st thou not give him a dram?
MOS: O, by no means, sir.
CORB: Nay, I'll not bid you.
VOLT [COMING FORWARD.]: This is a knave, I see.
MOS [SEEING VOLTORE.]: How! signior Voltore! [ASIDE.] did he hear me?
VOLT: Parasite!
MOS: Who's that?--O, sir, most timely welcome--
VOLT: Scarce, To the discovery of your tricks, I fear. You are his, ONLY? and mine, also? are you not?
MOS: Who? I, sir?
VOLT: You, sir. What device is this About a Will?
MOS: A plot for you, sir.
VOLT: Come, Put not your foists upon me; I shall scent them.
MOS: Did you not hear it?
VOLT: Yes, I hear Corbaccio Hath made your patron there his heir.
MOS: 'Tis true, By my device, drawn to it by my plot, With hope--
VOLT: Your patron should reciprocate? And you have promised?
MOS: For your good, I did, sir. Nay, more, I told his son, brought, hid him here, Where he might hear his father pass the deed: Being persuaded to it by this thought, sir, That the unnaturalness, first, of the act, And then his father's oft disclaiming in him, (Which I did mean t'help on,) would sure enrage him To do some violence upon his parent, On which the law should take sufficient hold, And you be stated in a double hope: Truth be my comfort, and my conscience, My only aim was to dig you a fortune Out of these two old rotten sepulchres--
VOLT: I cry thee mercy, Mosca.
MOS: Worth your patience, And your great merit, sir. And see the change!
VOLT: Why, what success?
MOS: Most happless! you must help, sir. Whilst we expected the old raven, in comes Corvino's wife, sent hither by her husband--
VOLT: What, with a present?
MOS: No, sir, on visitation; (I'll tell you how anon;) and staying long, The youth he grows impatient, rushes forth, Seizeth the lady, wounds me, makes her swear (Or he would murder her, that was his vow) To affirm my patron to have done her rape: Which how unlike it is, you see! and hence, With that pretext he's gone, to accuse his father, Defame my patron, defeat you--
VOLT: Where is her husband? Let him be sent for straight.
MOS: Sir, I'll go fetch him.
VOLT: Bring him to the Scrutineo.
MOS: Sir, I will.
VOLT: This must be stopt.
MOS: O you do nobly, sir. Alas, 'twas labor'd all, sir, for your good; Nor was there want of counsel in the plot: But fortune can, at any time, o'erthrow The projects of a hundred learned clerks, sir.
CORB [LISTENING]: What's that?
VOLT: Will't please you, sir, to go along?
[EXIT CORBACCIO, FOLLOWED BY VOLTORE.]
MOS: Patron, go in, and pray for our success.
VOLP [RISING FROM HIS COUCH.]: Need makes devotion: heaven your labour bless!
[EXEUNT.]
## ACT 4. SCENE 4.1.
A STREET.
[ENTER SIR POLITICK WOULD-BE AND PEREGRINE.]
SIR P: I told you, sir, it was a plot: you see What observation is! You mention'd me, For some instructions: I will tell you, sir, (Since we are met here in this height of Venice,) Some few perticulars I have set down, Only for this meridian, fit to be known Of your crude traveller, and they are these. I will not touch, sir, at your phrase, or clothes, For they are old.
PER: Sir, I have better.
SIR P: Pardon, I meant, as they are themes.
PER: O, sir, proceed: I'll slander you no more of wit, good sir.
SIR P: First, for your garb, it must be grave and serious, Very reserv'd, and lock'd; not tell a secret On any terms, not to your father; scarce A fable, but with caution; make sure choice Both of your company, and discourse; beware You never speak a truth--
PER: How!
SIR P: Not to strangers, For those be they you must converse with, most; Others I would not know, sir, but at distance, So as I still might be a saver in them: You shall have tricks else past upon you hourly. And then, for your religion, profess none, But wonder at the diversity, of all: And, for your part, protest, were there no other But simply the laws o' the land, you could content you, Nic. Machiavel, and Monsieur Bodin, both Were of this mind. Then must you learn the use And handling of your silver fork at meals; The metal of your glass; (these are main matters With your Italian;) and to know the hour When you must eat your melons, and your figs.
PER: Is that a point of state too?
SIR P: Here it is, For your Venetian, if he see a man Preposterous in the least, he has him straight; He has; he strips him. I'll acquaint you, sir, I now have lived here, 'tis some fourteen months Within the first week of my landing here, All took me for a citizen of Venice: I knew the forms, so well--
PER [ASIDE.]: And nothing else.
SIR P: I had read Contarene, took me a house, Dealt with my Jews to furnish it with moveables-- Well, if I could but find one man, one man To mine own heart, whom I durst trust, I would--
PER: What, what, sir?
SIR P: Make him rich; make him a fortune: He should not think again. I would command it.
PER: As how?
SIR P: With certain projects that I have; Which I may not discover.
PER [ASIDE.]: If I had But one to wager with, I would lay odds now, He tells me instantly.
SIR P: One is, and that I care not greatly who knows, to serve the state Of Venice with red herrings for three years, And at a certain rate, from Rotterdam, Where I have correspendence. There's a letter, Sent me from one of the states, and to that purpose: He cannot write his name, but that's his mark.
PER: He's a chandler?
SIR P: No, a cheesemonger. There are some others too with whom I treat About the same negociation; And I will undertake it: for, 'tis thus. I'll do't with ease, I have cast it all: Your hoy Carries but three men in her, and a boy; And she shall make me three returns a year: So, if there come but one of three, I save, If two, I can defalk:--but this is now, If my main project fail.
PER: Then you have others?
SIR P: I should be loth to draw the subtle air Of such a place, without my thousand aims. I'll not dissemble, sir: where'er I come, I love to be considerative; and 'tis true, I have at my free hours thought upon Some certain goods unto the state of Venice, Which I do call "my Cautions;" and, sir, which I mean, in hope of pension, to propound To the Great Council, then unto the Forty, So to the Ten. My means are made already--
PER: By whom?
SIR P: Sir, one that, though his place be obscure, Yet he can sway, and they will hear him. He's A commandador.
PER: What! a common serjeant?
SIR P: Sir, such as they are, put it in their mouths, What they should say, sometimes; as well as greater: I think I have my notes to shew you-- [SEARCHING HIS POCKETS.]
PER: Good sir.
SIR P: But you shall swear unto me, on your gentry, Not to anticipate--
PER: I, sir!
SIR P: Nor reveal A circumstance--My paper is not with me.
PER: O, but you can remember, sir.
SIR P: My first is Concerning tinder-boxes. You must know, No family is here, without its box. Now, sir, it being so portable a thing, Put case, that you or I were ill affected Unto the state, sir; with it in our pockets, Might not I go into the Arsenal, Or you, come out again, and none the wiser?
PER: Except yourself, sir.
SIR P: Go to, then. I therefore Advertise to the state, how fit it were, That none but such as were known patriots, Sound lovers of their country, should be suffer'd To enjoy them in their houses; and even those Seal'd at some office, and at such a bigness As might not lurk in pockets.
PER: Admirable!
SIR P: My next is, how to enquire, and be resolv'd, By present demonstration, whether a ship, Newly arrived from Soria, or from Any suspected part of all the Levant, Be guilty of the plague: and where they use To lie out forty, fifty days, sometimes, About the Lazaretto, for their trial; I'll save that charge and loss unto the merchant, And in an hour clear the doubt.
PER: Indeed, sir!
SIR P: Or--I will lose my labour.
PER: 'My faith, that's much.
SIR P: Nay, sir, conceive me. It will cost me in onions, Some thirty livres--
PER: Which is one pound sterling.
SIR P: Beside my water-works: for this I do, sir. First, I bring in your ship 'twixt two brick walls; But those the state shall venture: On the one I strain me a fair tarpauling, and in that I stick my onions, cut in halves: the other Is full of loop-holes, out at which I thrust The noses of my bellows; and those bellows I keep, with water-works, in perpetual motion, Which is the easiest matter of a hundred. Now, sir, your onion, which doth naturally Attract the infection, and your bellows blowing The air upon him, will show, instantly, By his changed colour, if there be contagion; Or else remain as fair as at the first. --Now it is known, 'tis nothing.
PER: You are right, sir.
SIR P: I would I had my note.
PER: 'Faith, so would I: But you have done well for once, sir.
SIR P: Were I false, Or would be made so, I could shew you reasons How I could sell this state now, to the Turk; Spite of their galleys, or their-- [EXAMINING HIS PAPERS.]
PER: Pray you, sir Pol.
SIR P: I have them not about me.
PER: That I fear'd. They are there, sir.
SIR P: No. This is my diary, Wherein I note my actions of the day.
PER: Pray you let's see, sir. What is here? [READS.] "Notandum, A rat had gnawn my spur-leathers; notwithstanding, I put on new, and did go forth: but first I threw three beans over the threshold. Item, I went and bought two tooth-picks, whereof one I burst immediatly, in a discourse With a Dutch merchant, 'bout ragion del stato. From him I went and paid a moccinigo, For piecing my silk stockings; by the way I cheapen'd sprats; and at St. Mark's I urined." 'Faith, these are politic notes!
SIR P: Sir, I do slip No action of my life, but thus I quote it.
PER: Believe me, it is wise!
SIR P: Nay, sir, read forth.
[ENTER, AT A DISTANCE, LADY POLITICK-WOULD BE, NANO, AND TWO WAITING-WOMEN.]
LADY P: Where should this loose knight be, trow? sure he's housed.
NAN: Why, then he's fast.
LADY P: Ay, he plays both with me. I pray you, stay. This heat will do more harm To my complexion, than his heart is worth; (I do not care to hinder, but to take him.) [RUBBING HER CHEEKS.] How it comes off!
1 WOM: My master's yonder.
LADY P: Where?
1 WOM: With a young gentleman.
LADY P: That same's the party; In man's apparel! 'Pray you, sir, jog my knight: I'll be tender to his reputation, However he demerit.
SIR P [SEEING HER]: My lady!
PER: Where?
SIR P: 'Tis she indeed, sir; you shall know her. She is, Were she not mine, a lady of that merit, For fashion and behaviour; and, for beauty I durst compare--
PER: It seems you are not jealous, That dare commend her.
SIR P: Nay, and for discourse--
PER: Being your wife, she cannot miss that.
SIR P [INTRODUCING PER.]: Madam, Here is a gentleman, pray you, use him fairly; He seems a youth, but he is--
LADY P: None.
SIR P: Yes, one Has put his face as soon into the world--
LADY P: You mean, as early? but to-day?
SIR P: How's this?
LADY P: Why, in this habit, sir; you apprehend me:-- Well, master Would-be, this doth not become you; I had thought the odour, sir, of your good name, Had been more precious to you; that you would not Have done this dire massacre on your honour; One of your gravity and rank besides! But knights, I see, care little for the oath They make to ladies; chiefly, their own ladies.
SIR P: Now by my spurs, the symbol of my knighthood,--
PER [ASIDE.]: Lord, how his brain is humbled for an oath!
SIR P: I reach you not.
LADY P: Right, sir, your policy May bear it through, thus. [TO PER.] sir, a word with you. I would be loth to contest publicly With any gentlewoman, or to seem Froward, or violent, as the courtier says; It comes too near rusticity in a lady, Which I would shun by all means: and however I may deserve from master Would-be, yet T'have one fair gentlewoman thus be made The unkind instrument to wrong another, And one she knows not, ay, and to persever; In my poor judgment, is not warranted From being a solecism in our sex, If not in manners.
PER: How is this!
SIR P: Sweet madam, Come nearer to your aim.
LADY P: Marry, and will, sir. Since you provoke me with your impudence, And laughter of your light land-syren here, Your Sporus, your hermaphrodite--
PER: What's here? Poetic fury, and historic storms?
SIR P: The gentleman, believe it, is of worth, And of our nation.
LADY P: Ay, your White-friars nation. Come, I blush for you, master Would-be, I; And am asham'd you should have no more forehead, Than thus to be the patron, or St. George, To a lewd harlot, a base fricatrice, A female devil, in a male outside.
SIR P: Nay, And you be such a one, I must bid adieu To your delights. The case appears too liquid.
[EXIT.]
LADY P: Ay, you may carry't clear, with your state-face!-- But for your carnival concupiscence, Who here is fled for liberty of conscience, From furious persecution of the marshal, Her will I dis'ple.
PER: This is fine, i'faith! And do you use this often? Is this part Of your wit's exercise, 'gainst you have occasion? Madam--
LADY P: Go to, sir.
PER: Do you hear me, lady? Why, if your knight have set you to beg shirts, Or to invite me home, you might have done it A nearer way, by far:
LADY P: This cannot work you Out of my snare.
PER: Why, am I in it, then? Indeed your husband told me you were fair, And so you are; only your nose inclines, That side that's next the sun, to the queen-apple.
LADY P: This cannot be endur'd by any patience.
[ENTER MOSCA.]
MOS: What is the matter, madam?
LADY P: If the Senate Right not my quest in this; I'll protest them To all the world, no aristocracy.
MOS: What is the injury, lady?
LADY P: Why, the callet You told me of, here I have ta'en disguised.
MOS: Who? this! what means your ladyship? the creature I mention'd to you is apprehended now, Before the senate; you shall see her--
LADY P: Where?
MOS: I'll bring you to her. This young gentleman, I saw him land this morning at the port.
LADY P: Is't possible! how has my judgment wander'd? Sir, I must, blushing, say to you, I have err'd; And plead your pardon.
PER: What, more changes yet!
LADY P: I hope you have not the malice to remember A gentlewoman's passion. If you stay In Venice here, please you to use me, sir--
MOS: Will you go, madam?
LADY P: 'Pray you, sir, use me. In faith, The more you see me, the more I shall conceive You have forgot our quarrel.
[EXEUNT LADY WOULD-BE, MOSCA, NANO, AND WAITING-WOMEN.]
PER: This is rare! Sir Politick Would-be? no; sir Politick Bawd. To bring me thus acquainted with his wife! Well, wise sir Pol, since you have practised thus Upon my freshman-ship, I'll try your salt-head, What proof it is against a counter-plot.
[EXIT.]
## SCENE 4.2.
THE SCRUTINEO, OR SENATE-HOUSE.
ENTER VOLTORE, CORBACCIO, CORVINO, AND MOSCA.
VOLT: Well, now you know the carriage of the business, Your constancy is all that is required Unto the safety of it.
MOS: Is the lie Safely convey'd amongst us? is that sure? Knows every man his burden?
CORV: Yes.
MOS: Then shrink not.
CORV: But knows the advocate the truth?
MOS: O, sir, By no means; I devised a formal tale, That salv'd your reputation. But be valiant, sir.
CORV: I fear no one but him, that this his pleading Should make him stand for a co-heir--
MOS: Co-halter! Hang him; we will but use his tongue, his noise, As we do croakers here.
CORV: Ay, what shall he do?
MOS: When we have done, you mean?
CORV: Yes.
MOS: Why, we'll think: Sell him for mummia; he's half dust already. [TO VOLTORE.] Do not you smile, to see this buffalo, How he does sport it with his head? [ASIDE.] --I should, If all were well and past. [TO CORBACCIO.] --Sir, only you Are he that shall enjoy the crop of all, And these not know for whom they toil.
CORB: Ay, peace.
MOS [TURNING TO CORVINO.]: But you shall eat it. Much! [ASIDE.] [TO VOLTORE.] --Worshipful sir, Mercury sit upon your thundering tongue, Or the French Hercules, and make your language As conquering as his club, to beat along, As with a tempest, flat, our adversaries; But much more yours, sir.
VOLT: Here they come, have done.
MOS: I have another witness, if you need, sir, I can produce.
VOLT: Who is it?
MOS: Sir, I have her.
[ENTER AVOCATORI AND TAKE THEIR SEATS, BONARIO, CELIA, NOTARIO, COMMANDADORI, SAFFI, AND OTHER OFFICERS OF JUSTICE.]
1 AVOC: The like of this the senate never heard of.
2 AVOC: 'Twill come most strange to them when we report it.
4 AVOC: The gentlewoman has been ever held Of unreproved name.
3 AVOC: So has the youth.
4 AVOC: The more unnatural part that of his father.
2 AVOC: More of the husband.
1 AVOC: I not know to give His act a name, it is so monstrous!
4 AVOC: But the impostor, he's a thing created To exceed example!
1 AVOC: And all after-times!
2 AVOC: I never heard a true voluptuary Discribed, but him.
3 AVOC: Appear yet those were cited?
NOT: All, but the old magnifico, Volpone.
1 AVOC: Why is not he here?
MOS: Please your fatherhoods, Here is his advocate: himself's so weak, So feeble--
4 AVOC: What are you?
BON: His parasite, His knave, his pandar--I beseech the court, He may be forced to come, that your grave eyes May bear strong witness of his strange impostures.
VOLT: Upon my faith and credit with your virtues, He is not able to endure the air.
2 AVOC: Bring him, however.
3 AVOC: We will see him.
4 AVOC: Fetch him.
VOLT: Your fatherhoods fit pleasures be obey'd; [EXEUNT OFFICERS.] But sure, the sight will rather move your pities, Than indignation. May it please the court, In the mean time, he may be heard in me; I know this place most void of prejudice, And therefore crave it, since we have no reason To fear our truth should hurt our cause.
3 AVOC: Speak free.
VOLT: Then know, most honour'd fathers, I must now Discover to your strangely abused ears, The most prodigious and most frontless piece Of solid impudence, and treachery, That ever vicious nature yet brought forth To shame the state of Venice. This lewd woman, That wants no artificial looks or tears To help the vizor she has now put on, Hath long been known a close adulteress, To that lascivious youth there; not suspected, I say, but known, and taken in the act With him; and by this man, the easy husband, Pardon'd: whose timeless bounty makes him now Stand here, the most unhappy, innocent person, That ever man's own goodness made accused. For these not knowing how to owe a gift Of that dear grace, but with their shame; being placed So above all powers of their gratitude, Began to hate the benefit; and, in place Of thanks, devise to extirpe the memory Of such an act: wherein I pray your fatherhoods To observe the malice, yea, the rage of creatures Discover'd in their evils; and what heart Such take, even from their crimes:--but that anon Will more appear.--This gentleman, the father, Hearing of this foul fact, with many others, Which daily struck at his too tender ears, And grieved in nothing more than that he could not Preserve himself a parent, (his son's ills Growing to that strange flood,) at last decreed To disinherit him.
1 AVOC: These be strange turns!
2 AVOC: The young man's fame was ever fair and honest.
VOLT: So much more full of danger is his vice, That can beguile so under shade of virtue. But, as I said, my honour'd sires, his father Having this settled purpose, by what means To him betray'd, we know not, and this day Appointed for the deed; that parricide, I cannot style him better, by confederacy Preparing this his paramour to be there, Enter'd Volpone's house, (who was the man, Your fatherhoods must understand, design'd For the inheritance,) there sought his father:-- But with what purpose sought he him, my lords? I tremble to pronounce it, that a son Unto a father, and to such a father, Should have so foul, felonious intent! It was to murder him: when being prevented By his more happy absence, what then did he? Not check his wicked thoughts; no, now new deeds, (Mischief doth ever end where it begins) An act of horror, fathers! he dragg'd forth The aged gentleman that had there lain bed-rid Three years and more, out of his innocent couch, Naked upon the floor, there left him; wounded His servant in the face: and, with this strumpet The stale to his forged practice, who was glad To be so active,--(I shall here desire Your fatherhoods to note but my collections, As most remarkable,--) thought at once to stop His father's ends; discredit his free choice In the old gentleman, redeem themselves, By laying infamy upon this man, To whom, with blushing, they should owe their lives.
1 AVOC: What proofs have you of this?
BON: Most honoured fathers, I humbly crave there be no credit given To this man's mercenary tongue.
2 AVOC: Forbear.
BON: His soul moves in his fee.
3 AVOC: O, sir.
BON: This fellow, For six sols more, would plead against his Maker.
1 AVOC: You do forget yourself.
VOLT: Nay, nay, grave fathers, Let him have scope: can any man imagine That he will spare his accuser, that would not Have spared his parent?
1 AVOC: Well, produce your proofs.
CEL: I would I could forget I were a creature.
VOLT: Signior Corbaccio.
[CORBACCIO COMES FORWARD.]
1 AVOC: What is he?
VOLT: The father.
2 AVOC: Has he had an oath?
NOT: Yes.
CORB: What must I do now?
NOT: Your testimony's craved.
CORB: Speak to the knave? I'll have my mouth first stopt with earth; my heart Abhors his knowledge: I disclaim in him.
1 AVOC: But for what cause?
CORB: The mere portent of nature! He is an utter stranger to my loins.
BON: Have they made you to this?