SCENE XII.[1743

Avocatori, [BONARIO, CELIA, CORBACCIO, CORVINO, Commandadori, Saffi,] _etc._, [_as before_.]

_1 Avoc._ These things can ne’er be reconcil’d. He here [_showing the papers_] Professeth that the gentleman was wrong’d, And that the gentlewoman was brought thither, Forc’d by her husband, and there left.

_Volt._ Most true.

_Cel._ How ready is heaven to those that pray!

_1 Avoc._ But that 5 Volpone would have ravish’d her, he holds Utterly false, knowing his impotence.

_Corv._ Grave fathers, he’s possest; again, I say, Possest: nay, if there be possession, and Obsession, he has both.

_3 Avoc._ Here comes our officer. 10

[_Enter_ VOLPONE.]

_Volp._ The parasite will straight be here, grave fathers.

_4 Avoc._ You might invent some other name, sir varlet.

_3 Avoc._ Did not the notary meet him?

_Volp._ Not that I know.

_4 Avoc._ His coming will clear all.

_2 Avoc._ Yet it is misty.

_Volt._ May’t please your fatherhoods——

_Volp._ (_whispers_ VOLT.) Sir, the parasite 15 Will’d me to tell you that his master lives; That you are still the man; your hopes the same; And this was only a jest——

_Volt._ How?

_Volp._ Sir, to try If you were firm, and how you stood affected.

_Volt._ Art sure he lives?

_Volp._ Do I live, sir?

_Volt._ O me! I was too violent.

_Volp._ Sir, you may redeem it. 21 They said you were possest; fall down, and seem so: I’ll help to make it good. (VOLTORE _falls_.) God bless the man!—— Stop your wind hard, and swell—See, see, see, see! He vomits crooked pins! His eyes are set, 25 Like a dead hare’s hung in a poulter’s shop! His mouth’s running away! Do you see, signior? Now it is in his belly.

_Corv._ Ay, the devil!

_Volp._ Now in his throat.

_Corv._ Ay, I perceive it plain.

_Volp._ ’T will out, ’t will out! stand clear. See where it flies, 30 In shape of a blue toad, with a bat’s wings! Do you not see it, sir?

_Corb._ What? I think I do.

_Corv._ ’T is too manifest.

_Volp._ Look! he comes t’ himself!

_Volt._ Where am I?

_Volp._ Take good heart, the worst is past, sir. You’re dispossest.

_1 Avoc._ What accident is this! 35

_2 Avoc._ Sudden and full of wonder!

_3 Avoc._ If he were Possest, as it appears, all this is nothing.

_Corv._ He has been often subject to these fits.

_1 Avoc._ Show him that writing:—do you know it, sir?

_Volp._ (_whispers_ VOLT.) Deny it, sir, forswear it: know it not. 40

_Volt._ Yes, I do know it well, it is my hand; But all that it contains is false.

_Bon._ O practice![1744]

_2 Avoc._ What maze is this!

_1 Avoc._ Is he not guilty then, Whom you there name the parsite?

_Volt._ Grave fathers, No more than his good patron, old Volpone. 45

_4 Avoc._ Why, he is dead.

_Volt._ O no, my honour’d fathers, He lives——

_1 Avoc._ How! lives?

_Volt._ Lives.

_2 Avoc._ This is subtler yet!

_3 Avoc._ You said he was dead.

_Volt._ Never.

_3 Avoc._ You said so.

_Corv._ I heard so.

_4 Avoc._ Here comes the gentleman; make him way.

[_Enter_ MOSCA.]

_3 Avoc._ A stool.

_4 Avoc._ [_Aside._] A proper man; and were Volpone dead, 50 A fit match for my daughter.

_3 Avoc._ Give him way.

_Volp._ [_Aside to_ MOS.] Mosca, I was a’most lost; the advocate Had betray’d all; but now it is recover’d; All’s on the hinge again——Say I am living.

_Mos._ What busy knave is this!—Most reverend fathers, 55 I sooner had attended your grave pleasures, But that my order for the funeral Of my dear patron did require me——

_Volp._ [_Aside._] Mosca!

_Mos._ Whom I intend to bury like a gentleman.

_Volp._ [_Aside._] Ay, quick, and cozen me of all.

_2 Avoc._ Still stranger! 60 More intricate!

_1 Avoc._ And come about again!

_4 Avoc._ [_Aside._] It is a match, my daughter is bestow’d.

_Mos._ [_Aside to_ VOLP.] Will you gi’ me half?

_Volp._ First I’ll be hang’d.

_Mos._ I know Your voice is good, cry not so loud.

_1 Avoc._ Demand The advocate.—Sir, did you not affirm 65 Volpone was alive?

_Volp._ Yes, and he is; This gent’man told me so.—[_Aside to_ MOS.] Thou shalt have half.

_Mos._ Whose drunkard is this same? Speak, some that know him: I never saw his face.—[_Aside to_ VOLP.] I cannot now Afford it you so cheap.

_Volp._ No!

_1 Avoc._ What say you? 70

_Volt._ The officer told me.

_Volp._ I did, grave fathers, And will maintain he lives, with mine own life, And that this creature [_points to_ MOS.] told me. [_Aside._]—I was born With all good stars my enemies.

_Mos._ Most grave fathers, If such an insolence as this must pass 75 Upon me, I am silent: ’t was not this For which you sent, I hope.

_2 Avoc._ Take him away.

_Volp._ Mosca!

_3 Avoc._ Let him be whipt.

_Volp._ Wilt thou betray me? Cozen me?

_3 Avoc._ And taught to bear himself Toward a person of his rank.

_4 Avoc._ Away. 80 [_The_ Officers _seize_ VOLPONE.]

_Mos._ I humbly thank your fatherhoods.

_Volp._ Soft, soft: [_Aside._] Whipt! And lose all that I have! If I confess, It cannot be much more.

_4 Avoc._ Sir, are you married?

_Volp._ They’ll be alli’d anon; I must be resolute; 84 The Fox shall here uncase. _Puts off his disguise._

_Mos._ Patron!

_Volp._ Nay, now My ruin shall not come alone; your match I’ll hinder sure: my substance shall not glue you, Nor screw you into a family.

_Mos._ Why, patron!

_Volp._ I am Volpone, and this is my knave; [_Pointing to_ MOSCA.] This [_to_ VOLT.], his own knave; this [_to_ CORB.], avarice’s fool; 90 This [_to_ CORV.], a chimera of wittol, fool, and knave: And, reverend fathers, since we all can hope Nought but a sentence, let’s not now despair it. You hear me brief.

_Corv._ May it please your fatherhoods——

_Com._ Silence. 94

_1 Avoc._ The knot is now undone by miracle.

_2 Avoc._ Nothing can be more clear.

_3 Avoc._ Or can more prove These innocent.

_1 Avoc._ Give ’em their liberty.

_Bon._ Heaven could not long let such gross crimes be hid.

_2 Avoc._ If this be held the highway to get riches, 99 May I be poor!

_3 Avoc._ This’s not the gain, but torment.

_1 Avoc._ These possess wealth, as sick men possess fevers, Which trulier may be said to possess them.

_2 Avoc._ Disrobe that parasite.

_Corv. Mos._ Most honour’d fathers——

_1 Avoc._ Can you plead aught to stay the course of justice? 104 If you can, speak.

_Corv. Volt._ We beg favour.

_Cel._ And mercy.

_1 Avoc._ You hurt your innocence, suing for the guilty. Stand forth; and first the parasite. You appear T’ have been the chiefest minister, if not plotter, In all these lewd impostures, and now, lastly, Have with your impudence abus’d[1745] the court, And habit of a gentleman of Venice, 111 Being a fellow of no birth or blood: For which our sentence is, first, thou be whipt; Then live perpetual prisoner in our galleys. 114

_Volp._ I thank you for him.

_Mos._ Bane to thy-wolfish nature!

_1 Avoc._ Deliver him to the saffi.[1746] [MOSCA _is carried out_.] Thou, Volpone, By blood and rank a gentleman, canst not fall Under like censure; but our judgment on thee Is, that thy substance all be straight confiscate To the hospital of the Incurabili: 120 And since the most was gotten by imposture, By feigning lame, gout, palsy, and such diseases, Thou art to lie in prison, cramp’d with irons, Till thou be’st sick and lame indeed. Remove him. [_He is taken from the Bar._]

_Volp._ This is called mortifying of a Fox. 125

_1 Avoc._ Thou, Voltore, to take away the scandal Thou hast giv’n all worthy men of thy profession, Art banish’d from their fellowship, and our state. Corbaccio!—bring him near. We here possess Thy son of all thy state, and confine thee 130 To the monastery of San Spirito; Where, since thou knew’st not how to live well here, Thou shalt be learn’d to die well.

_Corb._ Ha! what said he?

_Com._ You shall know anon, sir.

_1 Avoc._ Thou, Corvino, shalt Be straight embark’d from thine own house, and row’d 135 Round about Venice, through the Grand Canal, Wearing a cap, with fair long ass’s ears, Instead of horns! and so to mount, a paper Pinn’d on thy breast, to the Berlina.[1747]

_Corv._ Yes, 139 And have mine eyes beat out with stinking fish, Bruis’d fruit, and rotten eggs—’t is well. I ’m glad I shall not see my shame yet.

_1 Avoc._ And to expiate Thy wrongs done to thy wife, thou art to send her Home to her father, with her dowry trebled: And these are all your judgments.

_All._ Honour’d fathers—— 145

_1 Avoc._ Which may not be revok’d. Now you begin, When crimes are done and past, and to be punish’d, To think what your crimes are. Away with them! Let all that see these vices thus rewarded, Take heart, and love to study ’em. Mischiefs feed 150 Like beasts, till they be fat, and then they bleed. [_Exeunt._]

VOLPONE [_comes forward_].

“The seasoning of a play is the applause. Now, though the Fox be punish’d by the laws, He yet doth hope, there is no suff’ring due, 155 For any fact[1748] which he hath done ’gainst you; If there be, censure him; here he doubtful stands: If not, fare jovially, and clap your hands.” [_Exit._]

THE ALCHEMIST

BY BEN JONSON

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

SUBTLE, the ALCHEMIST. FACE, the House-keeper. DOL COMMON, their colleague. DAPPER, a [Lawyer’s] clerk. DRUGGER, a Tobacco-man. LOVEWIT, Master of the House. [Sir] EPICURE MAMMON, a Knight. [PERTINAX] SURLY, a Gamester. TRIBULATION [WHOLESOME], a Pastor of Amsterdam. ANANIAS, a Deacon there. KASTRILL, the angry boy. DAME PLIANT, his sister, a Widow. Neighbours. Officers, Mutes.

SCENE.—_London._

[TO THE READER[1749]

If thou beest more, thou art an understander, and then I trust thee. If thou art one that tak’st up, and but a pretender, beware at what hands thou receiv’st thy commodity; for thou wert never more fair in the way to be coz’ned than in this age in poetry, especially in plays, wherein now the concupiscence of jigs and dances[1750] so reigneth, as to run away from nature and be afraid of her is the only point of art that tickles the spectators. But how out of purpose and place do I name art, when the professors are grown so obstinate contemners of it, and presumers on their own naturals,[1751] as they are deriders of all diligence that way, and, by simple mocking at the terms when they understand not the things, think to get off wittily with their ignorance! Nay, they are esteem’d the more learned and sufficient for this by the multitude,[1752] through their excellent vice[1753] of judgment. For they commend writers as they do fencers or wrastlers; who, if they come in robustiously and put for it with a great deal of violence, are receiv’d for the braver fellows; when many times their own rudeness is the cause of their disgrace, and a little touch of their adversary gives all that boisterous force the foil.[1754] I deny not but that these men who always seek to do more than enough may some time happen on some thing that is good and great; but very seldom: and when it comes, it doth not recompence the rest of their ill. It sticks out, perhaps, and is more eminent, because all is sordid and vile about it; as lights are more discern’d in a thick darkness than a faint shadow. I speak not this out of a hope to do good on any man against his will; for I know, if it were put to the question of theirs and mine, the worse would find more suffrages, because the most favour common errors. But I give thee this warning, that there is a great difference between those that (to gain the opinion of copie[1755]) utter[1756] all they can, however unfitly, and those that use election and a mean. For it is only the disease of the unskillful to think rude things greater than polish’d, or scatter’d more numerous than compos’d.]

ARGUMENT

T he sickness hot,[1757] a master quit, for fear, H is house in town, and left one servant there. E ase him corrupted, and gave means to know A Cheater and his punk;[1758] who now brought low, L eaving their narrow practice, were become C oz’ners[1759] at large; and only wanting some H ouse to set up, and with him they here contract, E ach for a share, and all begin to set. M uch company they draw, and much abuse,[1760] I n casting figures,[1761] telling fortunes, news, S elling of flies,[1762] flat bawdry, with the stone,[1763] T ill it, and they, and all in fume[1764] are gone.

PROLOGUE

Fortune, that favours fools, these two short hours We wish away, both for your sakes and ours, Judging spectators; and desire in place, To th’ author justice, to ourselves but grace. Our scene is London, ’cause we would make known, 5 No country’s mirth is better than our own. No clime breeds better matter for your whore, Bawd, squire, impostor, many persons more, Whose manners, now call’d humours, feed the stage; And which have still been subject for the rage 10 Or spleen of comic writers. Though this pen Did never aim to grieve, but better men; Howe’er the age he lives in doth endure The vices that she breeds, above their cure. But when the wholesome remedies are sweet, 15 And, in their working gain and profit meet, He hopes to find no spirit so much diseas’d, But will with such fair correctives be pleas’d. For here he doth not fear who can apply. If there be any that will sit so nigh 20 Unto the stream, to look what it doth run, They shall find things, they ’d think, or wish, were done; They are so natural follies, but so shown, As even the doers may see, and yet not own.