SCENE VII.[1665

[_Enter_] MOSCA, CORVINO, CELIA.—

_Mos._ Death on me! you are come too soon, what meant you? Did not I say I would send?

_Corv._ Yes, but I fear’d You might forget it, and then they prevent us.

_Mos._ Prevent! [_Aside._] Did e’er man haste so for his horns? A courtier would not ply it so for a place. 5 —Well, now there is no helping it, stay here; I’ll presently return. [_Exit._]

_Corv._ Where are you, Celia? You know not wherefore I have brought you hither?

_Cel._ Not well, except you told me.

_Corv._ Now I will: Hark hither. [_They retire to one side._]

[_Re-enter_ MOSCA.]

_Mos._ (_to_ BONARIO) Sir, your father hath sent word, It will be half an hour ere he come; 11 And therefore, if you please to walk the while Into that gallery—at the upper end, There are some books to entertain the time: And I’ll take care no man shall come unto you, sir. 15

_Bon._ Yes, I will stay there.—[_Aside._] I do doubt this fellow. [_Exit._]

_Mos._ [_Looking after him._] There; he is far enough; he can hear nothing: And for his father, I can keep him off.[1666]

_Corv._ Nay, now, there is no starting back, and therefore, Resolve upon it: I have so decreed. 20 It must be done. Nor would I move’t afore, Because I would avoid all shifts and tricks, That might deny me.

_Cel._ Sir, let me beseech you, Affect not these strange trials; if you doubt My chastity, why, lock me up for ever; 25 Make me the heir of darkness. Let me live Where I may please your fears, if not your trust.

_Corv._ Believe it, I have no such humour, I. All that I speak I mean; yet I’m not mad; 29 Not horn-mad, you see? Go to, show yourself Obedient, and a wife.

_Cel._ O heaven!

_Corv._ I say it, Do so.

_Cel._ Was this the train?

_Corv._ I ’ve told you reasons; What the physicians have set down; how much It may concern me; what my engagements are; My means, and the necessity of those means 35 For my recovery: wherefore, if you be Loyal and mine, be won, respect my venture.

_Cel._ Before your honour?

_Corv._ Honour! tut, a breath: There’s no such thing in nature; a mere term Invented to awe fools. What is my gold 40 The worse for touching, clothes for being look’d on? Why, this’s no more. An old decrepit wretch, That has no sense, no sinew; takes his meat With others’ fingers: only knows to gape When you do scald his gums; a voice, a shadow; And what can this man hurt you?

_Cel._ [_Aside._] Lord! what spirit 46 Is this hath ent’red him?

_Corv._ And for your fame, That’s such a jig; as if I would go tell it, Cry it on the Piazza! Who shall know it But he that cannot speak it, and this fellow, 50 Whose lips are i’ my pocket? Save yourself, (If you’ll proclaim’t, you may,) I know no other Should come to know it.

_Cel._ Are heaven and saints then nothing? Will they be blind or stupid?

_Corv._ How!

_Cel._ Good sir, Be jealous still, emulate them; and think 55 What hate they burn with toward every sin.

_Corv._ I grant you: if I thought it were a sin I would not urge you. Should I offer this To some young Frenchman, or hot Tuscan blood That had read Aretine, conn’d all his prints, 60 Knew every quirk within lust’s labyrinth, And were profest critic in lechery; And I would look upon him, and applaud him, This were a sin: but here, ’t is contrary, A pious work, mere charity for physic, 65 And honest polity, to assure mine own.

_Cel._ O heaven! canst thou suffer such a change?

_Volp._ Thou art mine honour, Mosca, and my pride, My joy, my tickling, my delight! Go bring ’em.

_Mos._ [_Advancing._] Please you draw near, sir.

_Corv._ Come on, what—— You will not be rebellious? By that light—— 71

_Mos._ Sir, Signior Corvino, here, is come to see you.

_Volp._ Oh!

_Mos._ And hearing of the consultation had, So lately, for your health, is come to offer, Or rather, sir, to prostitute——

_Corv._ Thanks, sweet Mosca. 75

_Mos._ Freely, unask’d, or unintreated——

_Corv._ Well.

_Mos._ As the true fervent instance of his love, His own most fair and proper wife; the beauty Only of price in Venice——

_Corv._ ’T is well urg’d.

_Mos._ To be your comfortress, and to preserve you. 80

_Volp._ Alas, I am past, already! Pray you, thank him For his good care and promptness; but for that, ’T is a vain labour e’en to fight ’gainst heaven; Applying fire to stone—uh, uh, uh, uh! [_Coughing._] Making a dead leaf grow again. I take 85 His wishes gently, though; and you may tell him What I have done for him: marry, my state is hopeless. Will him to pray for me; and to use his fortune With reverence when he comes to’t.

_Mos._ Do you hear, sir? Go to him with your wife.

_Corv._ Heart of my father! 90 Wilt thou persist thus? Come, I pray thee, come. Thou seest ’t is nothing, Celia. By this hand I shall grow violent. Come, do’t, I say.

_Cel._ Sir, kill me, rather: I will take down poison, Eat burning coals, do anything——

_Corv._ Be damn’d! 95 Heart, I will drag thee hence home by the hair; Cry thee a strumpet through the streets; rip up Thy mouth unto thine ears; and slit thy nose, Like a raw rochet![1667]—Do not tempt me; come, Yield, I am loth—Death! I will buy some slave 100 Whom I will kill, and bind thee to him alive; And at my windore hang you forth, devising Some monstrous crime, which I, in capital letters, Will eat into thy flesh with aquafortis, 104 And burning cor’sives,[1668] on this stubborn breast. Now, by the blood thou hast incens’d, I’ll do it!

_Cel._ Sir, what you please, you may; I am your martyr.

_Corv._ Be not thus obstinate, I ha’ not deserv’d it: Think who it is intreats you. Prithee, sweet;— Good faith, thou shalt have jewels, gowns, attires, 110 What thou wilt think, and ask. Do but go kiss him. Or touch him but. For my sake. At my suit— This once. No! not! I shall remember this. Will you disgrace me thus? Do you thirst my undoing?

_Mos._ Nay, gentle lady, be advis’d.

_Corv._ No, no. 115 She has watch’d her time. God’s precious, this is scurvy, ’T is very scurvy; and you are——

_Mos._ Nay, good sir.

_Corv._ An arrant locust—by heaven, a locust!— Whore, crocodile, that hast thy tears prepar’d, Expecting how thou’lt bid ’em flow——

_Mos._ Nay, pray you, sir! 120 She will consider.

_Cel._ Would my life would serve To satisfy——

_Corv._ ’Sdeath! if she would but speak to him, And save my reputation, ’t were somewhat; But spitefully to affect my utter ruin!

_Mos._ Ay, now you have put your fortune in her hands. 125 Why i’ faith, it is her modesty, I must quit her. If you were absent, she would be more coming; I know it: and dare undertake for her. What woman can before her husband? Pray you, Let us depart and leave her here.

_Corv._ Sweet Celia, 130 Thou mayest redeem all yet; I’ll say no more: If not, esteem yourself as lost. Nay, stay there. [_Exit with_ MOSCA.]

_Cel._ O God, and his good angels! whither, whither, Is shame fled human breasts? that with such ease, 134 Men dare put off your honours, and their own? Is that, which ever was a cause of life, Now plac’d beneath the basest circumstance, And modesty an exile made, for money?

_Volp._ Ay, in Corvino, and such earth-fed minds. _He leaps from his couch._ That never tasted the true heaven of love. 140 Assure thee, Celia, he that would sell thee, Only for hope of gain, and that uncertain, He would have sold his part of Paradise For ready money, had he met a cope-man.[1669] Why art thou maz’d to see me thus reviv’d? Rather applaud thy beauty’s miracle; 146 ’T is thy great work, that hath, not now alone, But sundry times rais’d me, in several shapes, And, but this morning, like a mountebank, To see thee at thy windore: ay, before 150 I would have left my practice, for thy love, In varying figures. I would have contended With the blue Proteus, or the horned flood.[1670] Now art thou welcome.

_Cel._ Sir!

_Volp._ Nay, fly me not, Nor let thy false imagination 155 That I was bed-rid, make thee think I am so: Thou shalt not find it. I am now as fresh, As hot, as high, and in as jovial plight As, when, in that so celebrated scene, At recitation of our comedy, 160 For entertainment of the great Valois, I acted young Antinous; and attracted The eyes and ears of all the ladies present, To admire each graceful gesture, note, and footing. [_Sings._]

Song[1671]

Come, my Celia, let us prove 165 While we can, the sports of love, Time will not be ours for ever, He, at length, our good will sever; Spend not then his gifts in vain: Suns that set may rise again; 170 But if once we lose this light, ’T is with us perpetual night. Why should we defer our joys? Fame and rumour are but toys. Cannot we delude the eyes 175 Of a few poor household spies? Or his easier ears beguile, Thus removed by our wile? ’T is no sin love’s fruits to steal; But the sweet thefts to reveal: 180 To be taken, to be seen, These have crimes accounted been.

_Cel._ Some serene[1672] blast me, or dire lightning strike This my offending face!

_Volp._ Why droops my Celia? Thou hast, in place of a base husband found 185 A worthy lover: use thy fortune well, With secrecy and pleasure. See, behold, What thou art queen of; not in expectation, As I feed others: but possess’d and crown’d. See, here, a rope of pearl; and each more orient[1673] Then the brave Aegyptian queen carous’d: 191 Dissolve and drink ’em. See, a carbuncle, May put out both the eyes of our St. Mark; A diamond would have bought Lollia Paulina, When she came in like star-light, hid with jewels 195 That were the spoils of provinces; take these And wear, and lose ’em; yet remains an earring To purchase them again, and this whole state. A gem but worth a private patrimony Is nothing; we will eat such at a meal. 200 The heads of parrots, tongues of nightingales, The brains of peacocks, and of estriches, Shall be our food, and, could we get the phoenix, Though nature lost her kind, she were our dish.

_Cel._ Good sir, these things might move a mind affected 205 With such delights; but I, whose innocence Is all I can think wealthy, or worth th’ enjoying, And which, once lost, I have nought to lose beyond it, Cannot be taken with these sensual baits: If you have conscience——

_Volp._ ’T is the beggar’s virtue; If thou hast wisdom, hear me, Celia. 211 Thy baths shall be the juice of July-flowers, Spirit of roses, and of violets, The milk of unicorns, and panthers’ breath 214 Gather’d in bags, and mix’d with Cretan wines. Our drink shall be prepared gold and amber; Which we will take until my root whirl round With the vertigo: and my dwarf shall dance, My eunuch sing, my fool make up the antic, 219 Whilst we, in changed shapes, act Ovid’s tales, Thou, like Europa now, and I like Jove, Then I like Mars, and thou like Erycine: So of the rest, till we have quite run through, And wearied all the fables of the gods. 224 Then will I have thee in more modern forms, Attired like some sprightly dame of France, Brave Tuscan lady, or proud Spanish beauty; Sometimes unto the Persian sophy’s wife; Or the grand signior’s mistress; and for change, To one of our most artful courtesans, 230 Or some quick Negro, or cold Russian; And I will meet thee in as many shapes: Where we may so transfuse our wand’ring souls Out at our lips, and score up sums of pleasures, [_Sings._] That the curious shall not know 235 How to tell them as they flow; And the envious, when they find What their number is, be pin’d.

_Cel._ If you have ears that will be pierc’d—or eyes That can be open’d—a heart that may be touch’d— 240 Or any part that yet sounds man about you— If you have touch of holy saints—or heaven— Do me the grace to let me scape:—if not, Be bountiful and kill me. You do know, I am a creature, hither ill betray’d, 245 By one whose shame I would forget it were: If you will deign me neither of these graces, Yet feed your wrath, sir, rather than your lust, (It is a vice comes nearer manliness,) And punish that unhappy crime of nature, 250 Which you miscall my beauty: flay my face, Or poison it with ointments for seducing Your blood to this rebellion. Rub these hands With what may cause an eating leprosy, E’en to my bones and marrow: anything 255 That may disfavour me, save in my honour— And I will kneel to you, pray for you, pay down A thousand hourly vows, sir, for your health; Report, and think you virtuous——

_Volp._ Think me cold, Frozen, and impotent, and so report me? 260 That I had Nestor’s hernia, thou wouldst think. I do degenerate, and abuse my nation, To play with opportunity thus long; I should have done the act, and then have parley’d. Yield, or I’ll force thee. [_Seizes her._]

_Cel._ O! just God!

_Volp._ In vain—— 265

_Bon._ (_leaps out from where_ MOSCA _had placed him_.) Forbear, foul ravisher! libidinous swine! Free the forc’d lady, or thou diest, impostor. But that I’m loth to snatch thy punishment Out of the hand of justice, thou shouldst yet Be made the timely sacrifice of vengeance, 270 Before this altar and this dross, thy idol.—— Lady, let ’s quit the place, it is the den Of villany; fear nought, you have a guard: And he ere long shall meet his just reward. 274 [_Exeunt_ BON. _and_ CEL.]

_Volp._ Fall on me, roof, and bury me in ruin! Become my grave, that wert my shelter! O! I am unmask’d, unspirited, undone, Betray’d to beggary, to infamy——

[SCENE VIII.][1674]

VOLPONE. [_Enter_] MOSCA, [_wounded and bleeding_.]

_Mos._ Where shall I run, most wretched shame of men, To beat out my unlucky brains?

_Volp._ Here, here. What! dost thou bleed?

_Mos._ O, that his well-driv’n sword Had been so courteous to have cleft me down Unto the navel, ere I liv’d to see 5 My life, my hopes, my spirits, my patron, all Thus desperately engaged by my error!

_Volp._ Woe on thy fortune!

_Mos._ And my follies, sir.

_Volp._ Thou hast made me miserable.

_Mos._ And myself, sir. Who would have thought he would have heark’ned so? 10

_Volp._ What shall we do?

_Mos._ I know not; if my heart Could expiate the mischance, I’d pluck it out. Will you be pleas’d to hang me, or cut my throat? And I’ll requite you, sir. Let’s die like Romans,[1675] Since we have liv’d like Grecians.

_They knock without._

_Volp._ Hark! who’s there? 15 I hear some footing; officers, the saffi,[1676] Come to apprehend us! I do feel the brand Hissing already at my forehead; now Mine ears are boring.

_Mos._ To your couch, sir, you, Make that place good, however. [VOLPONE _lies down as before_.] Guilty men 20 Suspect what they deserve still. Signior Corbaccio!

[SCENE IX.][1677]

[_To them enter_] CORBACCIO.

_Corb._ Why, how now, Mosca?

_Mos._ O, undone, amaz’d, sir. Your son, I know not by what accident, Acquainted with your purpose to my patron, Touching your will, and making him your heir, Ent’red our house with violence, his sword drawn, 5 Sought for you, called you wretch, unnatural, Vow’d he would kill you.

_Corb._ Me!

_Mos._ Yes, and my patron.

_Corb._ This act shall disinherit him indeed: Here is the will.

_Mos._ ’T is well, sir.

_Corb._ Right and well: Be you as careful now for me.

[_Enter_ VOLTORE _behind_.]

_Mos._ My life, sir, 10 Is not more tender’d; I am only yours.

_Corb._ How does he? Will he die shortly, think’st thou?

_Mos._ I fear He’ll outlast May.

_Corb._ To-day?

_Mos._ No, last out May, sir.

_Corb._ Couldst thou not gi’ 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. 15

_Mos._ [_Aside, seeing_ VOLT.] How! Signior Voltore! 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 20 About a will?

_Mos._ A plot for you, sir.

_Volt._ Come, Put not your foists[1678] upon me; I shall scent ’em.

_Mos._ Did you not hear it?

_Volt._ Yes, I hear Corbaccio Hath made your patron there his heir.

_Mos._ ’T is true, By my device, drawn to it by my plot, 25 With hope——

_Volt._ Your patron should reciprocate? And you have promis’d?

_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, 30 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, 34 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 rotten sepulchres——

_Volt._ I cry thee mercy, Mosca.

_Mos._ —Worth your patience, 40 And your great merit, sir. And see the change!

_Volt._ Why, what success?

_Mos._ Most hapless! you must help, sir. Whilst we expected th’ old raven, in comes Corvino’s wife, sent hither by her husband——

_Volt._ What, with a present?

_Mos._ No, sir, on visitation; 45 (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) T’ affirm my patron to have done her rape: 50 Which how unlike it is, you see! and hence, With that pretext he ’s gone, t’ accuse his father, Defame my patron, defeat you——

_Volt._ Where ’s her husband? Let him be sent for straight.

_Mos._ Sir, I ’ll go fetch him.

_Volt._ Bring him to the Scrutineo.[1679]

_Mos._ Sir, I will. 55

_Volt._ This must be stopt.

_Mos._ O you do nobly, sir. Alas, ’t was labour’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. 60

_Corb._ [_listening._] What ’s that?

_Volt._ Wilt 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._]