Chapter 3

A ROOM IN VOLPONE'S HOUSE.

ENTER VOLPONE AND MOSCA.

VOLP: O, I am wounded!

MOS: Where, sir?

VOLP: Not without; Those blows were nothing: I could bear them ever. But angry Cupid, bolting from her eyes, Hath shot himself into me like a flame; Where, now, he flings about his burning heat, As in a furnace an ambitious fire, Whose vent is stopt. The fight is all within me. I cannot live, except thou help me, Mosca; My liver melts, and I, without the hope Of some soft air, from her refreshing breath, Am but a heap of cinders.

MOS: 'Las, good sir, Would you had never seen her!

VOLP: Nay, would thou Had'st never told me of her!

MOS: Sir 'tis true; I do confess I was unfortunate, And you unhappy: but I'm bound in conscience, No less than duty, to effect my best To your release of torment, and I will, sir.

VOLP: Dear Mosca, shall I hope?

MOS: Sir, more than dear, I will not bid you to dispair of aught Within a human compass.

VOLP: O, there spoke My better angel. Mosca, take my keys, Gold, plate, and jewels, all's at thy devotion; Employ them how thou wilt; nay, coin me too: So thou, in this, but crown my longings, Mosca.

MOS: Use but your patience.

VOLP: So I have.

MOS: I doubt not To bring success to your desires.

VOLP: Nay, then, I not repent me of my late disguise.

MOS: If you can horn him, sir, you need not.

VOLP: True: Besides, I never meant him for my heir.-- Is not the colour of my beard and eyebrows, To make me known?

MOS: No jot.

VOLP: I did it well.

MOS: So well, would I could follow you in mine, With half the happiness! [ASIDE.] --and yet I would Escape your Epilogue.

VOLP: But were they gull'd With a belief that I was Scoto?

MOS: Sir, Scoto himself could hardly have distinguish'd! I have not time to flatter you now; we'll part; And as I prosper, so applaud my art.

[EXEUNT.]