Part 9
CORB: I will not hear thee, Monster of men, swine, goat, wolf, parricide! Speak not, thou viper.
BON: Sir, I will sit down, And rather wish my innocence should suffer, Then I resist the authority of a father.
VOLT: Signior Corvino!
[CORVINO COMES FORWARD.]
2 AVOC: This is strange.
1 AVOC: Who's this?
NOT: The husband.
4 AVOC: Is he sworn?
NOT: He is.
3 AVOC: Speak, then.
CORV: This woman, please your fatherhoods, is a whore, Of most hot exercise, more than a partrich, Upon record--
1 AVOC: No more.
CORV: Neighs like a jennet.
NOT: Preserve the honour of the court.
CORV: I shall, And modesty of your most reverend ears. And yet I hope that I may say, these eyes Have seen her glued unto that piece of cedar, That fine well-timber'd gallant; and that here The letters may be read, through the horn, That make the story perfect.
MOS: Excellent! sir.
CORV [ASIDE TO MOSCA.]: There's no shame in this now, is there?
MOS: None.
CORV: Or if I said, I hoped that she were onward To her damnation, if there be a hell Greater than whore and woman; a good catholic May make the doubt.
3 AVOC: His grief hath made him frantic.
1 AVOC: Remove him hence.
2 AVOC: Look to the woman.
[CELIA SWOONS.]
CORV: Rare! Prettily feign'd, again!
4 AVOC: Stand from about her.
1 AVOC: Give her the air.
3 AVOC [TO MOSCA.]: What can you say?
MOS: My wound, May it please your wisdoms, speaks for me, received In aid of my good patron, when he mist His sought-for father, when that well-taught dame Had her cue given her, to cry out, A rape!
BON: O most laid impudence! Fathers--
3 AVOC: Sir, be silent; You had your hearing free, so must they theirs.
2 AVOC: I do begin to doubt the imposture here.
4 AVOC: This woman has too many moods.
VOLT: Grave fathers, She is a creature of a most profest And prostituted lewdness.
CORV: Most impetuous, Unsatisfied, grave fathers!
VOLT: May her feignings Not take your wisdoms: but this day she baited A stranger, a grave knight, with her loose eyes, And more lascivious kisses. This man saw them Together on the water in a gondola.
MOS: Here is the lady herself, that saw them too; Without; who then had in the open streets Pursued them, but for saving her knight's honour.
1 AVOC: Produce that lady.
2 AVOC: Let her come.
[EXIT MOSCA.]
4 AVOC: These things, They strike with wonder!
3 AVOC: I am turn'd a stone.
[RE-ENTER MOSCA WITH LADY WOULD-BE.]
MOS: Be resolute, madam.
LADY P: Ay, this same is she. [POINTING TO CELIA.] Out, thou chameleon harlot! now thine eyes Vie tears with the hyaena. Dar'st thou look Upon my wronged face?--I cry your pardons, I fear I have forgettingly transgrest Against the dignity of the court--
2 AVOC: No, madam.
LADY P: And been exorbitant--
2 AVOC: You have not, lady.
4 AVOC: These proofs are strong.
LADY P: Surely, I had no purpose To scandalise your honours, or my sex's.
3 AVOC: We do believe it.
LADY P: Surely, you may believe it.
2 AVOC: Madam, we do.
LADY P: Indeed, you may; my breeding Is not so coarse--
1 AVOC: We know it.
LADY P: To offend With pertinacy--
3 AVOC: Lady--
LADY P: Such a presence! No surely.
1 AVOC: We well think it.
LADY P: You may think it.
1 AVOC: Let her o'ercome. What witnesses have you To make good your report?
BON: Our consciences.
CEL: And heaven, that never fails the innocent.
4 AVOC: These are no testimonies.
BON: Not in your courts, Where multitude, and clamour overcomes.
1 AVOC: Nay, then you do wax insolent.
[RE-ENTER OFFICERS, BEARING VOLPONE ON A COUCH.]
VOLT: Here, here, The testimony comes, that will convince, And put to utter dumbness their bold tongues: See here, grave fathers, here's the ravisher, The rider on men's wives, the great impostor, The grand voluptuary! Do you not think These limbs should affect venery? or these eyes Covet a concubine? pray you mark these hands; Are they not fit to stroke a lady's breasts?-- Perhaps he doth dissemble!
BON: So he does.
VOLT: Would you have him tortured?
BON: I would have him proved.
VOLT: Best try him then with goads, or burning irons; Put him to the strappado: I have heard The rack hath cured the gout; 'faith, give it him, And help him of a malady; be courteous. I'll undertake, before these honour'd fathers, He shall have yet as many left diseases, As she has known adulterers, or thou strumpets.-- O, my most equal hearers, if these deeds, Acts of this bold and most exorbitant strain, May pass with sufferance; what one citizen But owes the forfeit of his life, yea, fame, To him that dares traduce him? which of you Are safe, my honour'd fathers? I would ask, With leave of your grave fatherhoods, if their plot Have any face or colour like to truth? Or if, unto the dullest nostril here, It smell not rank, and most abhorred slander? I crave your care of this good gentleman, Whose life is much endanger'd by their fable; And as for them, I will conclude with this, That vicious persons, when they're hot and flesh'd In impious acts, their constancy abounds: Damn'd deeds are done with greatest confidence.
1 AVOC: Take them to custody, and sever them.
2 AVOC: 'Tis pity two such prodigies should live.
1 AVOC: Let the old gentleman be return'd with care; [EXEUNT OFFICERS WITH VOLPONE.] I'm sorry our credulity hath wrong'd him.
4 AVOC: These are two creatures!
3 AVOC: I've an earthquake in me.
2 AVOC: Their shame, even in their cradles, fled their faces.
4 AVOC [TO VOLT.]: You have done a worthy service to the state, sir, In their discovery.
1 AVOC: You shall hear, ere night, What punishment the court decrees upon them.
[EXEUNT AVOCAT., NOT., AND OFFICERS WITH BONARIO AND CELIA.]
VOLT: We thank your fatherhoods.--How like you it?
MOS: Rare. I'd have your tongue, sir, tipt with gold for this; I'd have you be the heir to the whole city; The earth I'd have want men, ere you want living: They're bound to erect your statue in St. Mark's. Signior Corvino, I would have you go And shew yourself, that you have conquer'd.
CORV: Yes.
MOS: It was much better that you should profess Yourself a cuckold thus, than that the other Should have been prov'd.
CORV: Nay, I consider'd that: Now it is her fault:
MOS: Then it had been yours.
CORV: True; I do doubt this advocate still.
MOS: I'faith, You need not, I dare ease you of that care.
CORV: I trust thee, Mosca.
[EXIT.]
MOS: As your own soul, sir.
CORB: Mosca!
MOS: Now for your business, sir.
CORB: How! have you business?
MOS: Yes, your's, sir.
CORB: O, none else?
MOS: None else, not I.
CORB: Be careful, then.
MOS: Rest you with both your eyes, sir.
CORB: Dispatch it.
MOS: Instantly.
CORB: And look that all, Whatever, be put in, jewels, plate, moneys, Household stuff, bedding, curtains.
MOS: Curtain-rings, sir. Only the advocate's fee must be deducted.
CORB: I'll pay him now; you'll be too prodigal.
MOS: Sir, I must tender it.
CORB: Two chequines is well?
MOS: No, six, sir.
CORB: 'Tis too much.
MOS: He talk'd a great while; You must consider that, sir.
CORB: Well, there's three--
MOS: I'll give it him.
CORB: Do so, and there's for thee.
[EXIT.]
MOS [ASIDE.]: Bountiful bones! What horrid strange offence Did he commit 'gainst nature, in his youth, Worthy this age? [TO VOLT.]--You see, sir, how I work Unto your ends; take you no notice.
VOLT: No, I'll leave you.
[EXIT.]
MOS: All is yours, the devil and all: Good advocate!--Madam, I'll bring you home.
LADY P: No, I'll go see your patron.
MOS: That you shall not: I'll tell you why. My purpose is to urge My patron to reform his Will; and for The zeal you have shewn to-day, whereas before You were but third or fourth, you shall be now Put in the first; which would appear as begg'd, If you were present. Therefore--
LADY P: You shall sway me.
[EXEUNT.]
## ACT 5. SCENE 5.1
A ROOM IN VOLPONE'S HOUSE.
ENTER VOLPONE.
VOLP: Well, I am here, and all this brunt is past. I ne'er was in dislike with my disguise Till this fled moment; here 'twas good, in private; But in your public,--cave whilst I breathe. 'Fore God, my left leg began to have the cramp, And I apprehended straight some power had struck me With a dead palsy: Well! I must be merry, And shake it off. A many of these fears Would put me into some villanous disease, Should they come thick upon me: I'll prevent 'em. Give me a bowl of lusty wine, to fright This humour from my heart. [DRINKS.] Hum, hum, hum! 'Tis almost gone already; I shall conquer. Any device, now, of rare ingenious knavery, That would possess me with a violent laughter, Would make me up again. [DRINKS AGAIN.] So, so, so, so! This heat is life; 'tis blood by this time:--Mosca!
[ENTER MOSCA.]
MOS: How now, sir? does the day look clear again? Are we recover'd, and wrought out of error, Into our way, to see our path before us? Is our trade free once more?
VOLP: Exquisite Mosca!
MOS: Was it not carried learnedly?
VOLP: And stoutly: Good wits are greatest in extremities.
MOS: It were a folly beyond thought, to trust Any grand act unto a cowardly spirit: You are not taken with it enough, methinks?
VOLP: O, more than if I had enjoy'd the wench: The pleasure of all woman-kind's not like it.
MOS: Why now you speak, sir. We must here be fix'd; Here we must rest; this is our master-piece; We cannot think to go beyond this.
VOLP: True. Thou hast play'd thy prize, my precious Mosca.
MOS: Nay, sir, To gull the court--
VOLP: And quite divert the torrent Upon the innocent.
MOS: Yes, and to make So rare a music out of discords--
VOLP: Right. That yet to me's the strangest, how thou hast borne it! That these, being so divided 'mongst themselves, Should not scent somewhat, or in me or thee, Or doubt their own side.
MOS: True, they will not see't. Too much light blinds them, I think. Each of them Is so possest and stuft with his own hopes, That any thing unto the contrary, Never so true, or never so apparent, Never so palpable, they will resist it--
VOLP: Like a temptation of the devil.
MOS: Right, sir. Merchants may talk of trade, and your great signiors Of land that yields well; but if Italy Have any glebe more fruitful than these fellows, I am deceiv'd. Did not your advocate rare?
VOLP: O--"My most honour'd fathers, my grave fathers, Under correction of your fatherhoods, What face of truth is here? If these strange deeds May pass, most honour'd fathers"--I had much ado To forbear laughing.
MOS: It seem'd to me, you sweat, sir.
VOLP: In troth, I did a little.
MOS: But confess, sir, Were you not daunted?
VOLP: In good faith, I was A little in a mist, but not dejected; Never, but still my self.
MOS: I think it, sir. Now, so truth help me, I must needs say this, sir, And out of conscience for your advocate: He has taken pains, in faith, sir, and deserv'd, In my poor judgment, I speak it under favour, Not to contrary you, sir, very richly-- Well--to be cozen'd.
VOLP: Troth, and I think so too, By that I heard him, in the latter end.
MOS: O, but before, sir: had you heard him first Draw it to certain heads, then aggravate, Then use his vehement figures--I look'd still When he would shift a shirt: and, doing this Out of pure love, no hope of gain--
VOLP: 'Tis right. I cannot answer him, Mosca, as I would, Not yet; but for thy sake, at thy entreaty, I will begin, even now--to vex them all, This very instant.
MOS: Good sir.
VOLP: Call the dwarf And eunuch forth.
MOS: Castrone, Nano!
[ENTER CASTRONE AND NANO.]
NANO: Here.
VOLP: Shall we have a jig now?
MOS: What you please, sir.
VOLP: Go, Straight give out about the streets, you two, That I am dead; do it with constancy, Sadly, do you hear? impute it to the grief Of this late slander.
[EXEUNT CAST. AND NANO.]
MOS: What do you mean, sir?
VOLP: O, I shall have instantly my Vulture, Crow, Raven, come flying hither, on the news, To peck for carrion, my she-wolfe, and all, Greedy, and full of expectation--
MOS: And then to have it ravish'd from their mouths!
VOLP: 'Tis true. I will have thee put on a gown, And take upon thee, as thou wert mine heir: Shew them a will; Open that chest, and reach Forth one of those that has the blanks; I'll straight Put in thy name.
MOS [GIVES HIM A PAPER.]: It will be rare, sir.
VOLP: Ay, When they ev'n gape, and find themselves deluded--
MOS: Yes.
VOLP: And thou use them scurvily! Dispatch, get on thy gown.
MOS [PUTTING ON A GOWN.]: But, what, sir, if they ask After the body?
VOLP: Say, it was corrupted.
MOS: I'll say it stunk, sir; and was fain to have it Coffin'd up instantly, and sent away.
VOLP: Any thing; what thou wilt. Hold, here's my will. Get thee a cap, a count-book, pen and ink, Papers afore thee; sit as thou wert taking An inventory of parcels: I'll get up Behind the curtain, on a stool, and hearken; Sometime peep over, see how they do look, With what degrees their blood doth leave their faces, O, 'twill afford me a rare meal of laughter!
MOS [PUTTING ON A CAP, AND SETTING OUT THE TABLE, ETC.]: Your advocate will turn stark dull upon it.
VOLP: It will take off his oratory's edge.
MOS: But your clarissimo, old round-back, he Will crump you like a hog-louse, with the touch.
VOLP: And what Corvino?
MOS: O, sir, look for him, To-morrow morning, with a rope and dagger, To visit all the streets; he must run mad. My lady too, that came into the court, To bear false witness for your worship--
VOLP: Yes, And kist me 'fore the fathers; when my face Flow'd all with oils.
MOS: And sweat, sir. Why, your gold Is such another med'cine, it dries up All those offensive savours: it transforms The most deformed, and restores them lovely, As 'twere the strange poetical girdle. Jove Could not invent t' himself a shroud more subtle To pass Acrisius' guards. It is the thing Makes all the world her grace, her youth, her beauty.
VOLP: I think she loves me.
MOS: Who? the lady, sir? She's jealous of you.
VOLP: Dost thou say so?
[KNOCKING WITHIN.]
MOS: Hark, There's some already.
VOLP: Look.
MOS: It is the Vulture: He has the quickest scent.
VOLP: I'll to my place, Thou to thy posture.
[GOES BEHIND THE CURTAIN.]
MOS: I am set.
VOLP: But, Mosca, Play the artificer now, torture them rarely.
[ENTER VOLTORE.]
VOLT: How now, my Mosca?
MOS [WRITING.]: "Turkey carpets, nine"--
VOLT: Taking an inventory! that is well.
MOS: "Two suits of bedding, tissue"--
VOLT: Where's the Will? Let me read that the while.
[ENTER SERVANTS, WITH CORBACCIO IN A CHAIR.]
CORB: So, set me down: And get you home.
[EXEUNT SERVANTS.]
VOLT: Is he come now, to trouble us!
MOS: "Of cloth of gold, two more"--
CORB: Is it done, Mosca?
MOS: "Of several velvets, eight"--
VOLT: I like his care.
CORB: Dost thou not hear?
[ENTER CORVINO.]
CORB: Ha! is the hour come, Mosca?
VOLP [PEEPING OVER THE CURTAIN.]: Ay, now, they muster.
CORV: What does the advocate here, Or this Corbaccio?
CORB: What do these here?
[ENTER LADY POL. WOULD-BE.]
LADY P: Mosca! Is his thread spun?
MOS: "Eight chests of linen"--
VOLP: O, My fine dame Would-be, too!
CORV: Mosca, the Will, That I may shew it these, and rid them hence.
MOS: "Six chests of diaper, four of damask."--There.
[GIVES THEM THE WILL CARELESSLY, OVER HIS SHOULDER.]
CORB: Is that the will?
MOS: "Down-beds, and bolsters"--
VOLP: Rare! Be busy still. Now they begin to flutter: They never think of me. Look, see, see, see! How their swift eyes run over the long deed, Unto the name, and to the legacies, What is bequeath'd them there--
MOS: "Ten suits of hangings"--
VOLP: Ay, in their garters, Mosca. Now their hopes Are at the gasp.
VOLT: Mosca the heir?
CORB: What's that?
VOLP: My advocate is dumb; look to my merchant, He has heard of some strange storm, a ship is lost, He faints; my lady will swoon. Old glazen eyes, He hath not reach'd his despair yet.
CORB [TAKES THE WILL.]: All these Are out of hope: I am sure, the man.
CORV: But, Mosca--
MOS: "Two cabinets."
CORV: Is this in earnest?
MOS: "One Of ebony"--
CORV: Or do you but delude me?
MOS: The other, mother of pearl--I am very busy. Good faith, it is a fortune thrown upon me-- "Item, one salt of agate"--not my seeking.
LADY P: Do you hear, sir?
MOS: "A perfum'd box"--'Pray you forbear, You see I'm troubled--"made of an onyx"--
LADY P: How!
MOS: To-morrow or next day, I shall be at leisure To talk with you all.
CORV: Is this my large hope's issue?
LADY P: Sir, I must have a fairer answer.
MOS: Madam! Marry, and shall: 'pray you, fairly quit my house. Nay, raise no tempest with your looks; but hark you, Remember what your ladyship 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 ass, 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 title, 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 ship 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.
[EXEUNT MERCHANTS.]
[ENTER WAITING-WOMAN.]
PER: Save you, fair lady! Is sir Pol within?
WOM: I do not know, sir.
PER: Pray you say unto him, Here is a merchant, upon earnest business, Desires to speak with him.
WOM: I will see, sir. [EXIT.]
PER: Pray you.-- I see the family is all female here.
[RE-ENTER WAITING-WOMAN.]
WOM: He says, sir, he has weighty affairs of state, That now require him whole; some other time You may possess him.
PER: Pray you say again, If those require him whole, these will exact him, Whereof I bring him tidings. [EXIT WOMAN.] --What might be His grave affair of state now! how to make Bolognian sausages here in Venice, sparing One o' the ingredients?
[RE-ENTER WAITING-WOMAN.]
WOM: Sir, he says, he knows By your word "tidings," that you are no statesman, And therefore wills you stay.
PER: Sweet, pray you return him; I have not read so many proclamations, And studied them for words, as he has done-- But--here he deigns to come.
[EXIT WOMAN.]
[ENTER SIR POLITICK.]