I do confess I was unfortunate, And you unhappy: but I'm bound in conscience, To your release of torment, and I will, sir. Mos. Sir, more than dear, I will not bid you to despair of aught Volp. O, there spoke My better angel. Mosca, take my keys, Volp. So I have. Mos. I doubt not To bring success to your desires. 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 Mos. No jot. Volp. I did it well. Mos. So well, would I could follow you in mine, With half the happiness !—and yet I would Escape your epilogue.' Volp. But were they gull'd With a belief that I was Scoto? Mos. Sir, [Aside. 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. 9 and yet I would [Exeunt. Escape your epilogue.] i. e. the beating which Volpone had received from Corvino. SCENE III. A Room in Corvino's House. Enter CORVINO, with his sword in his hand, dragging in CELIA. Coro. Death of mine honour, with the city's fool! A juggling, tooth-drawing, prating mountebank! Or were you enamour'd on his copper rings, He shall come home, and minister unto you whilst he, With his strain'd action, and his dole of faces,] Dole of faces, is the grimace, or change of features, which accompanied Vol. pone's action. We have a parallel expression in the beginning of Sejanus: "We have no shift of faces." WHAL. Why, if you'll mount, you may; yes, truly, you may: And so you may be seen, down to the foot. And be a dealer with the virtuous man; You would be damn'd, ere you did this, you whore! Corv. What couldst thou propose2 Less to thyself, than in this heat of wrath, Your mother's, or your aunt's might serve the turn. cuses, Or ever stir abroad, but to the church? And that so seldom- 2 What couldst thou propose, &c.] This outrageous respect for his honour is an admirable preparation for his conduct in the ensuing conversation with Mosca. Coro. Well, it shall be less; And thy restraint before was liberty, To what I now decree: and therefore mark me. Thy prospect, all be backwards; and no pleasure, That thou shalt know but backwards: nay, since you force My honest nature, know, it is your own, Away, and be not seen, pain of thy life; Nor look toward the window: if thou dost-Nay, stay, hear this---let me not prosper, whore, But I will make thee an anatomy, Dissect thee mine own self, and read a lecture Upon thee to the city, and in public. Away! Enter Servant. [Exit Celia. Who's there? Ser. 'Tis signior Mosca, sir. Coro. Let him come in. [Exit Serv.] His master's dead: there's yet Some good to help the bad.— I guess your news. Enter MOSCA. My Mosca, welcome! Mos. I fear you cannot, sir. Coro. Is't not his death? Mos. Rather the contrary. Coro. Not his recovery? Coro. I am curs'd, I am bewitch'd, my crosses meet to vex me. Mos. Why, sir, with Scoto's oil; Coro. Death! that damn'd mountebank! but for the law Now, I could kill the rascal: it cannot be, Of a poor spoonful of dead wine, with flies in't? Are a sheep's gall, a roasted bitch's marrow, Mos. I know not, sir; But some on't, there, they pour'd into his ears, To the osteria,] The inn or hotel. So Fletcher, "Host. Thy master That lodges here in my osteria." Fair Maid of the Inn. WHAL |