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SCENE 5
[A room in Volpone's house.]
[Enter MOSCA in the habit of a clarissimo; and VOLPONE in that of a commandadore.]
VOLP: Am I then like him?
MOS: O, sir, you are he;
No man can sever you.
VOLP: Good.
MOS: But what am I?
VOLP: 'Fore heaven, a brave clarissimo, thou becom'st it!
Pity thou wert not born one.
MOS: [Aside.] If I hold
My made one, 'twill be well.
VOLP: I'll go and see
What news first at the court.
[Exit.]
MOS: Do so. My Fox
Is out of his hole, and ere he shall re-enter,
I'll make him languish in his borrow'd case,
Except he come to composition with me.—
Androgyno, Castrone, Nano!
[Enter ANDROGYNO, CASTRONE and NANO.]
ALL: Here.
MOS: Go, recreate yourselves abroad; go sport.—
[Exeunt.]
So, now I have the keys, and am possest.
Since he will needs be dead afore his time,
I'll bury him, or gain by him: I am his heir,
And so will keep me, till he share at least.
To cozen him of all, were but a cheat
Well placed; no man would construe it a sin:
Let his sport pay for it, this is call'd the Fox-trap.
[Exit.]
SCENE 6
[A street.]
[Enter CORBACCIO and CORVINO.]
CORB: They say, the court is set.
CORV: We must maintain
Our first tale good, for both our reputations.
CORB: Why, mine's no tale: my son would there have kill'd me.
CORV: That's true, I had forgot:—
[Aside.]—mine is, I am sure.
But for your will, sir.
CORB: Ay, I'll come upon him
For that hereafter; now his patron's dead.
[Enter VOLPONE.]
VOLP: Signior Corvino! and Corbaccio! sir,
Much joy unto you.
CORV: Of what?
VOLP: The sudden good,
Dropt down upon you—
CORB: Where?
VOLP: And, none knows how,
From old Volpone, sir.
CORB: Out, arrant knave!
VOLP: Let not your too much wealth, sir, make you furious.
CORB: Away, thou varlet!
VOLP: Why, sir?
CORB: Dost thou mock me?
VOLP: You mock the world, sir; did you not change wills?
CORB: Out, harlot!
VOLP: O! belike you are the man,
Signior Corvino? 'faith, you carry it well;
You grow not mad withal: I love your spirit:
You are not over-leaven'd with your fortune.
You should have some would swell now, like a wine-fat,
With such an autumn—Did he give you all, sir?
CORB: Avoid, you rascal!
VOLP: Troth, your wife has shewn
Herself a very woman; but you are well,
You need not care, you have a good estate,
To bear it out sir, better by this chance:
Except Corbaccio have a share.
CORV: Hence, varlet.
VOLP: You will not be acknown, sir; why, 'tis wise.
Thus do all gamesters, at all games, dissemble:
No man will seem to win.
[Exeunt CORVINO and CORBACCIO .]
—Here comes my vulture,
Heaving his beak up in the air, and snuffing.
SCENE 7
[The same.]
[Enter VOLTORE.]
VOLT: Outstript thus, by a parasite! a slave,
Would run on errands, and make legs for crumbs?
Well, what I'll do—
VOLP: The court stays for your worship.
I e'en rejoice, sir, at your worship's happiness,
And that it fell into so learned hands,
That understand the fingering—
VOLT: What do you mean?
VOLP: I mean to be a suitor to your worship,
For the small tenement, out of reparations,
That, to the end of your long row of houses,
By the Piscaria: it was, in Volpone's time,
Your predecessor, ere he grew diseased,
A handsome, pretty, custom'd bawdy-house,
As any was in Venice, none dispraised;
But fell with him; his body and that house
Decay'd, together.
VOLT: Come sir, leave your prating.
VOLP: Why, if your worship give me but your hand,
That I may have the refusal, I have done.
'Tis a mere toy to you, sir; candle-rents;
As your learn'd worship knows—
VOLT: What do I know?
VOLP: Marry, no end of your wealth, sir, God decrease it!
VOLT: Mistaking knave! what, mockst thou my misfortune?
[Exit.]
VOLP: His blessing on your heart, sir; would 'twere more!—
Now to my first again, at the next corner.
[Exit.]
SCENE 8
[Another part of the street.]
[Enter CORBACCIO and CORVINO; MOSCA passes over the stage, before them.]
CORB: See, in our habit! see the impudent varlet!
CORV: That I could shoot mine eyes at him like gun-stones.
[Enter VOLPONE.]
VOLP: But is this true, sir, of the parasite?
CORB: Again, to afflict us! monster!
VOLP: In good faith, sir,
I'm heartily grieved, a beard of your grave length
Should be so over-reach'd. I never brook'd
That parasite's hair; methought his nose should cozen:
There still was somewhat in his look, did promise
The bane of a clarissimo.
CORB: Knave—
VOLP: Methinks
Yet you, that are so traded in the world,
A witty merchant, the fine bird, Corvino,
That have such moral emblems on your name,
Should not have sung your shame; and dropt your cheese,
To let the Fox laugh at your emptiness.
CORV: Sirrah, you think the privilege of the place,
And your red saucy cap, that seems to me
Nail'd to your jolt-head with those two chequines,
Can warrant your abuses; come you hither:
You shall perceive, sir, I dare beat you; approach.
VOLP: No haste, sir, I do know your valour well,
Since you durst publish what you are, sir.
CORV: Tarry,
I'd speak with you.
VOLP: Sir, sir, another time—
CORV: Nay, now.
VOLP: O lord, sir! I were a wise man,
Would stand the fury of a distracted cuckold.
[As he is running off, re-enter MOSCA.]
CORB: What, come again!
VOLP: Upon 'em, Mosca; save me.
CORB: The air's infected where he breathes.
CORV: Let's fly him.
[Exeunt CORVINO and CORBACCIO.]
VOLP: Excellent basilisk! turn upon the vulture.
SCENE 9
[The same.]
[Enter VOLTORE.]
VOLT: Well, flesh-fly, it is summer with you now;
Your winter will come on.
MOS: Good advocate,
Prithee not rail, nor threaten out of place thus;
Thou 'lt make a solecism, as madam says.
Get you a biggin more, your brain breaks loose.
[Exit.]
VOLT: Well, sir.
VOLP: Would you have me beat the insolent slave,
Throw dirt upon his first good clothes?
VOLT: This same
Is doubtless some familiar.
VOLP: Sir, the court,
In troth, stays for you. I am mad, a mule
That never read Justinian, should get up,
And ride an advocate. Had you no quirk
To avoid gullage, sir, by such a creature?
I hope you do but jest; he has not done it:
'Tis but confederacy, to blind the rest.
You are the heir?
VOLT: A strange, officious,
Troublesome knave! thou dost torment me.
VOLP: I know—
It cannot be, sir, that you should be cozen'd;
'Tis not within the wit of man to do it;
You are so wise, so prudent; and 'tis fit
That wealth and wisdom still should go together.
[Exeunt.]
