The workes of Beniamin Ionson

Act I. Scene V.

MOSCA, CORVINO, VOLPONE.

SIgnior CORVINO! come most wisht for! O, How happy were you, if you knew it, now!

CORV.

Why? what? wherein?

MOS.

The tardie houre is come, sir.

CORV.

He is not dead?

MOS.

Not dead, sir, but as good; He knowes no man.

CORV.

How shall I doe, then?

MOS.

Why, sir?

CORV.

I haue brought him, here, a pearle.

MOS.

Perhaps, he has So much remembrance left, as to know you, sir; He still calls on you, nothing but your name Is in his mouth: Is your pearle orient, sir?

CORV.

Venice was neuer owner of the like.

VOLP.

Signior COR∣VINO.

MOS.

Harke.

VOLP.

Signior COR∣VINO.

MOS.

'He calls you, step and giue it him. H'is here, sir, And he has brought you a rich pearle.

CORV.

How doe you, sir? Tell him, it doubles the twelfe caract.

MOS.

Sir, He cannot vnderstand, his hearing's gone; And yet it comforts him, to see you—

CORV.

Say, I haue a diamant for him, too.

MOS.

Best shew't, sir, Put it into his hand; 'tis onely there He apprehends: he has his feeling, yet. See, how he grasps it!

CORV.

'Lasse, good gentleman! How pittifull the sight is!

MOS.

Tut, forget, sir. The weeping of an heire should still be laughter, Vnder a visor.

CORV.

Why? am I his heire?

MOS.

Sir, I am sworne, I may not shew the will, Till he be dead: But, here has beene CORBACCIO, Here has beene VOLTORE, here were others too, I cannot number 'hem, they were so many, All gaping here for legacies; but I, Taking the vantage of his naming you,

(Signior CORVINO, Signior CORVINO) tooke Paper, and pen, and inke, and there I ask'd him, Whom he would haue his heire? CORVINO. Who Should be executor? CORVINO. And, To any question, he was silent too, I still interpreted the nods, he made (Through weakenesse) for consent: and sent home th'others, Nothing bequeath'd them, but to crie, and curse.

CORV.

They embrace.

O, my deare MOSCA. Do's he not perceiue vs?

MOS.

No more then a blind harper. He knowes no man, No face of friend, nor name of any seruant, Who't was that fed him last, or gaue him drinke: Not those, he hath begotten, or brought vp Can he remember.

CORV.

Has he children?

MOS.

Bastards, Some dozen, or more, that he begot on beggers, Gipseys, and Iewes, and black-moores, when he was drunke. Knew you not that, sir? 'Tis the common fable. The Dwarfe, the Foole, the Eunuch are all his; H'is the true father of his family, In all, saue me: but he has giu'n 'hem nothing.

CORV.

That's well, that's well. Art sure he does not heare vs?

MOS.

Sure, sir? why, looke you, credit your owne sense. The poxe approch, and adde to your diseases, If it would send you hence the sooner, sir. For, your incontinence, it hath deseru'd it Throughly, and throughly, and the plague to boot. (You may come neere, sir) would you would once close Those filthy eyes of yours, that slow with slime, Like two frog-pits; and those same hanging cheeks, Couer'd with hide, in stead of skin: (nay, helpe, sir) That looke like frozen dish-clouts, set on end.

CORV.

Or, like an old smok'd wall, on which the raine Ran downe in streakes.

MOS.

Excellent, sir, speake out; You may be lowder yet: a culuering, Discharged in his eare, would hardly bore it.

CORV.

His nose is like a common sewre, still running.

MOS.

'Tis good! and, what his mouth?

CORV.

A very draught.

MOS.

O, stop it vp—

CORV.

By no meanes.

MOS.

'Pray you let me. Faith, I could stifle him, rarely, with a pillow, As well, as any woman, that should keepe him.

CORV.

Doe as you will, but I'le be gone.

MOS.

Be so; It is your presence makes him last so long.

CORV.

I pray you, vse no violence.

MOS.

No, sir? why? Why should you be thus scrupulous? pray you, sir.

CORV.

Nay, at your discretion.

MOS.

Well, good sir, be gone.

CORV.

I will not trouble him now, to take my pearle?

MOS.

Puh, nor your diamant. What a needlesse care Is this afflicts you? Is not all, here, yours? Am not I here? whom you haue made? your creature? That owe my being to you?

CORV.

Gratefull MOSCA! Thou art my friend, my fellow, my companion, My partner, and shalt share in all my fortunes.

MOS.

Excepting one.

CORV.

What's that?

MOS.

Your gallant wife, sir. Now, is he gone: we had no other meanes, To shoot him hence, but this.

VOLP.

My diuine MOSCA!

Another knocks.

Thou hast to day out-gone thy selfe. Who's there? I will be troubled with no more. Prepare Me musicke, dances, banquets, all delights; The Turke is not more sensuall, in his pleasures, Then will VOLPONE. Let mee see, a pearle? A diamant? plate? cecchines? good mornings purchase; Why, this is better then rob churches, yet: Or fat, by eating (once a mon'th) a man. Who is't?

MOS.

The beauteous lady WOVLD-BEE, sir. Wife, to the English Knight, Sir POLITIQVE WOVLD-BEE, (This is the stile, sir, is directed mee) Hath sent to know, how you haue slept to night, And if you would be visited.

VOLP.

Not, now. Some three houres, hence—

MOS.

I told the Squire, so much.

VOLP.

When I am high with mirth, and wine: then, then. 'Fore heauen, I wonder at the desperate valure Of the bold English, that they dare let loose Their wiues, to all encounters!

MOS.

Sir, this knight Had not his name for nothing, he is politique, And knowes, how ere his wife affect strange aires, Shee hath not yet the face, to be dishonest. But, had shee signior CORVINO'S wiues face—

VOLP.

Has shee so rare a face?

MOS.

O, sir, the wonder, The blazing starre of Italie! a wench O' the first yeere! a beautie, ripe, as haruest! Whose skin is whiter then a swan, all ouer! Then siluer, snow, or lillies! a soft lip, Would tempt you to eternitie of kissing! And flesh, that melteth, in the touch, to bloud! Bright as your gold! and louely, as your gold!

VOLP.

Why had not I knowne this, before?

MOS.

Alas, sir. My selfe, but yesterday, discouer'd it.

VOLP.

How might I see her?

MOS.

O, not possible; Shee's kept as warily, as is your gold: Neuer do's come abroad, neuer takes ayre,

But at a windore. All her lookes are sweet, As the first grapes, or cherries: and are watch'd As neere, as they are.

VOLP.

I must see her—

MOS.

Sir. There is a guard, of ten spies thick, vpon her; All his whole houshold: each of which is set Vpon his fellow, and haue all their charge, When he goes out, when he comes in, examin'd.

VOLP.

I will goe see her, though but at her windore.

MOS.

In some disguise, then.

VOLP.

That is true. I must Maintayne mine owne shape, still, the same: wee'll thinke.