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Volpone; Or, The Fox

Ben Jonson

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-- BON [RUSHING IN]: Forbear, foul ravisher, libidinous swine! Free the forced 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, 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. [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-- [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 lived to see 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 harken'd, so? VOLP: What shall we do? MOS: I know not; if my heart Could expiate the mischance, I'd pluck it out. Will you be pleased to hang me? or cut my throat? And I'll requite you, sir. Let us die like Romans, Since we have lived like Grecians. [KNOCKING WITHIN.] VOLP: Hark! who's there? I hear some footing; officers, the saffi, 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 Suspect what they deserve still. [ENTER CORBACCIO.] Signior Corbaccio! CORB: Why, how now, Mosca? MOS: O, undone, amazed, sir. Your son, I know not by what accident, Acquainted with your purpose to my patron, Touching your Will, and making him your heir, Enter'd our house with violence, his sword drawn Sought for you, call'd 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: 'Tis well, sir. CORB: Right and well: Be you as careful now for me. [ENTER VOLTORE, BEHIND.] MOS: My life, sir, 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: Could'st thou not give 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. MOS [SEEING VOLTORE.]: How! signior Voltore! [ASIDE.] 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 About a Will? MOS: A plot for you, sir. VOLT: Come, Put not your foists upon me; I shall scent them. MOS: Did you not hear it? VOLT: Yes, I hear Corbaccio Hath made your patron there his heir. MOS: 'Tis true, By my device, drawn to it by my plot, With hope-- VOLT: Your patron should reciprocate? And you have promised? 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, 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, 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 old rotten sepulchres-- VOLT: I cry thee mercy, Mosca. MOS: Worth your patience, And your great merit, sir. And see the change! VOLT: Why, what success? MOS: Most happless! you must help, sir. Whilst we expected the old raven, in comes Corvino's wife, sent hither by her husband-- VOLT: What, with a present? MOS: No, sir, on visitation; (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) To affirm my patron to have done her rape: Which how unlike it is, you see! and hence, With that pretext he's gone, to accuse his father, Defame my patron, defeat you-- VOLT: Where is her husband? Let him be sent for straight. MOS: Sir, I'll go fetch him. VOLT: Bring him to the Scrutineo. MOS: Sir, I will. VOLT: This must be stopt. MOS: O you do nobly, sir. Alas, 'twas labor'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. CORB [LISTENING]: What's that? VOLT: Will't 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.] ACT 4. SCENE 4.1. A STREET. [ENTER SIR POLITICK WOULD-BE AND PEREGRINE.] SIR P: I told you, sir, it was a plot: you see What observation is! You mention'd me, For some instructions: I will tell you, sir, (Since we are met here in this height of Venice,) Some few perticulars I have set down, Only for this meridian, fit to be known Of your crude traveller, and they are these. I will not touch, sir, at your phrase, or clothes, For they are old. PER: Sir, I have better. SIR P: Pardon, I meant, as they are themes. PER: O, sir, proceed: I'll slander you no more of wit, good sir. SIR P: First, for your garb, it must be grave and serious, Very reserv'd, and lock'd; not tell a secret On any terms, not to your father; scarce A fable, but with caution; make sure choice Both of your company, and discourse; beware You never speak a truth-- PER: How! SIR P: Not to strangers, For those be they you must converse with, most; Others I would not know, sir, but at distance, So as I still might be a saver in them: You shall have tricks else past upon you hourly. And then, for your religion, profess none, But wonder at the diversity, of all: And, for your part, protest, were there no other But simply the laws o' the land, you could content you, Nic. Machiavel, and Monsieur Bodin, both Were of this mind. Then must you learn the use And handling of your silver fork at meals; The metal of your glass; (these are main matters With your Italian;) and to know the hour When you must eat your melons, and your figs. PER: Is that a point of state too? SIR P: Here it is, For your Venetian, if he see a man Preposterous in the least, he has him straight; He has; he strips him. I'll acquaint you, sir, I now have lived here, 'tis some fourteen months Within the first week of my landing here, All took me for a citizen of Venice: I knew the forms, so well-- PER [ASIDE.]: And nothing else. SIR P: I had read Contarene, took me a house, Dealt with my Jews to furnish it with moveables-- Well, if I could but find one man, one man To mine own heart, whom I durst trust, I would-- PER: What, what, sir? SIR P: Make him rich; make him a fortune: He should not think again. I would command it. PER: As how? SIR P: With certain projects that I have; Which I may not discover. PER [ASIDE.]: If I had But one to wager with, I would lay odds now, He tells me instantly. SIR P: One is, and that I care not greatly who knows, to serve the state Of Venice with red herrings for three years, And at a certain rate, from Rotterdam, Where I have correspendence. There's a letter, Sent me from one of the states, and to that purpose: He cannot write his name, but that's his mark. PER: He's a chandler? SIR P: No, a cheesemonger. There are some others too with whom I treat About the same negociation; And I will undertake it: for, 'tis thus. I'll do't with ease, I have cast it all: Your hoy Carries but three men in her, and a boy; And she shall make me three returns a year: So, if there come but one of three, I save, If two, I can defalk:--but this is now, If my main project fail. PER: Then you have others? SIR P: I should be loth to draw the subtle air Of such a place, without my thousand aims. I'll not dissemble, sir: where'er I come, I love to be considerative; and 'tis true, I have at my free hours thought upon Some certain goods unto the state of Venice, Which I do call "my Cautions;" and, sir, which I mean, in hope of pension, to propound To the Great Council, then unto the Forty, So to the Ten. My means are made already-- PER: By whom? SIR P: Sir, one that, though his place be obscure, Yet he can sway, and they will hear him. He's A commandador. PER: What! a common serjeant? SIR P: Sir, such as they are, put it in their mouths, What they should say, sometimes; as well as greater: I think I have my notes to shew you-- [SEARCHING HIS POCKETS.] PER: Good sir. SIR P: But you shall swear unto me, on your gentry, Not to anticipate-- PER: I, sir! SIR P: Nor reveal A circumstance--My paper is not with me. PER: O, but you can remember, sir. SIR P: My first is Concerning tinder-boxes. You must know, No family is here, without its box. Now, sir, it being so portable a thing, Put case, that you or I were ill affected Unto the state, sir; with it in our pockets, Might not I go into the Arsenal, Or you, come out again, and none the wiser? PER: Except yourself, sir. SIR P: Go to, then. I therefore Advertise to the state, how fit it were, That none but such as were known patriots, Sound lovers of their country, should be suffer'd To enjoy them in their houses; and even those Seal'd at some office, and at such a bigness As might not lurk in pockets. PER: Admirable! SIR P: My next is, how to enquire, and be resolv'd, By present demonstration, whether a ship, Newly arrived from Soria, or from Any suspected part of all the Levant, Be guilty of the plague: and where they use To lie out forty, fifty days, sometimes, About the Lazaretto, for their trial;