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VOLPONE, OR THE FOX.

THE ARGUMENT.'

Volpone, childless, rich, feigns sick, despairs,
Offers his state to hopes of several heirs,
Lies languishing: his parasite receives

Presents of all, assures, deludes; then weaves

Other cross plots, which ope themselves, are told.

New tricks for safety are sought; they thrive: when bold, Each tempts the other again, and all are sold.

PROLOGUE.

Now, luck yet send us, and a little wit
Will serve to make our play hit;
(According to the palates of the season)
Here is rhime, not empty of reason.
This we were bid to credit from our poet,
Whose true scope, if you would know it,

1 The Argument.] It is an acrostic; and seems to be written in imitation of those acrostical arguments, invented by Priscian or some later grammarians, and prefixed to the Comedies of Plautus. WHAL.

2 Whose true scope, &c.] Jonson never forgets to put the audience in mind of the ethical purpose of his writings. He has adverted to this already in Every Man out of his Humour, and he returns to it again in the Silent Woman: the expression itself is from Horace :

Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci,
Lectorem delectando pariterque monendo.

In all his poems still hath been this measure,
To mix profit with your pleasure;

And not as some, whose throats their envy failing,
Cry hoarsely, All he writes is railing:

And when his plays come forth,* think they can flout them,

With saying, he was a year about them.

To this there needs no lie, but this his creature,
Which was two months since no feature;
And though he dares give them five lives to mend it,
'Tis known, five weeks fully penn'd it,
From his own hand, without a co-adjutor,
Novice, journey-man, or tutor.

Yet thus much I can give you as a token
Of his play's worth, no eggs are broken,
Nor quaking custards with fierce teeth affrighted,"
Wherewith your rout are so delighted;

3 Cry hoarsely, All he writes is railing, &c.] This alludes to the Apologetical dialogue, Vol. II. p. 547:

P. O, but they lay particular imputations-
A. As what?

P. That all your writing is mere railing, &c.

✦ And when his plays come forth, &c.] Again, 4. Have they no other?

P. Yes; they say you're slow,

And scarce bring forth a play a year.

5

Ibid.

No eggs are broken,

Nor quaking custards with fierce teeth affrighted.] In the Poetaster, Marston (not Decker, as Whalley has it) throws up the words quaking custard: the allusion, however, is not to this, but to a burlesque representation of a city feast, of which, in Jonson's days, an immense custard always made a conspicuous part. With this custard a number of foolish tricks were played, at the Lord Mayor's table, to the unspeakable delight of the guests; and some dramatic writer, perhaps, had transferred them, with improvements, to the stage, where they seem to have given equal pleasure. I suspect that Jonson's "taxing" did not always “fly like a wild goose, unclaimed of any man;" yet I cannot pretend to guess at the objects of his present satire. Whalley

Nor hales he in a gull old ends reciting,
To stop gaps in his loose writing;

With such a deal of monstrous and forced action,
As might make Bethlem a faction :

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Nor made he his play for jests stolen from each table,
But makes jests to fit his fable;

And so presents quick comedy refined,

As best critics have designed;

The laws of time, place, persons he observeth,
From no needful rule he swerveth.

All gall and copperas from his ink he draineth,
Only a little salt remaineth,"

Wherewith he'll rub your cheeks, till red, with
laughter,

They shall look fresh a week after.

observes, in the margin of his copy, that Marston is probably meant by the "reciter of old ends; " and it must be granted that they abound, as he says, in the Malcontent. The Malcontent, however, which was inscribed to Jonson, has no "gull" amongst its characters; who are all equally liberal of old ends, and all equally oracular. In those days the town swarmed with writers for the stage; and we may collect from various sources, that there was no incident so extravagant and ridiculous, which some or other of them did not venture to adopt.

6 Only a little salt remaineth, &c.] From Horace,

-- at idem, quod sale multo

Urbem defricuit, &c.

ACT I. SCENE I.

A Room in Volpone's House.

Enter VOLPONE and Mosca.

Volp. Good morning to the day;' and next, my gold!-

Open the shrine, that I may see my saint.

[Mosca withdraws the curtain, and discovers
piles of gold, plate, jewels, &c.

Hail the world's soul, and mine! more glad than is
The teeming earth to see the long'd-for sun
Peep through the horns of the celestial Ram,
Am I, to view thy splendor darkening his;
That lying here, amongst my other hoards,
Shew'st like a flame by night, or like the day
Struck out of chaos, when all darkness fled
Unto the centre. O thou son of Sol,
But brighter than thy father, let me kiss,
With adoration, thee, and every relick
Of sacred treasure in this blessed room.
Well did wise poets, by thy glorious name,
Title that age which they would have the best;
Thou being the best of things, and far tran-
scending

Good morning to the day, &c.] The reader cannot but perceive, says Upton, that the diction of this opening scene rises to a tragic sublimity. The expression, Shew'st like a flame by night, is from Pindar : i de

Χρυσος, αιθόμενον πυρ

Ατε, διαπρεπει νυ

και μεγανδρος εξοχα πλέτε.

2 Thou being the best of things, &c.] Upton had reason to say that the diction of this piece rose to a tragic sublimity; since

All style of joy, in children, parents, friends,
Or any other waking dream on earth:

Thy looks when they to Venus did ascribe,
They should have given her twenty thousand
Cupids;

Such are thy beauties and our loves! Dear saint,
Riches, the dumb god, that giv'st all men tongues,
That canst do nought, and yet mak'st men do all

things;

The price of souls; even hell, with thee to boot, Is made worth heaven. Thou art virtue, fame, Honour and all things else. Who can get thee, He shall be noble, valiant, honest, wise

Mos. And what he will, sir. Riches are in fortune

A greater good than wisdom is in nature.

Volp. True, my beloved Mosca. Yet I glory More in the cunning purchase of my wealth, Than in the glad possession, since I gain

Jonson has had recourse for it to the tragic poets. This most learned man, who has "stalked for two centuries," as Mr. Malone takes upon himself to assure us, 66 on the stilts of an artificial reputation," was not only familiar with the complete dramas of the Athenian stage, but even with the minutest fragments of them, which have come down to us. The beautiful lines above, are from the Bellerophon, a lost play of Euripides. Edit. Beck. Vol. II. p. 432.

Ω χρυσε, δεξίωμα καλλιςον βροτοις,
Ὡς δε μητηρ ήδονας τοιας δ' έχει,
Ου παιδες ανθρωποισιν, ου φίλος πατης,
Οίας συ χοι σε δωμασιν κεκτημενοι.
Ει δ' ἡ Κυπρις τοιςτον οφθαλμοις όρα,
Ου θαυμ', ερωτας μυρίες avlav τρέφειν.

The concluding lines are from Horace, lib. ii. Sat. 3.

Omnis enim res

Virtus, fama, decus, divina humanaque, pulcris
Divitiis parent, quas qui construxerit, ille

Clarus erit, fortis, justus.—Sapiensque? Etiam, et rex,
Et quicquid volet.

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