Some in his nostrils, and recover'd him;
Applying but the fricace.

Corv. Pox o' that fricace!

Mos. And since, to seem the more officious And flatt'ring of his health, there, they have had, At extreme fees, the college of physicians Consulting on him, how they might restore him ; Where one would have a cataplasm of spices, Another a flay'd ape clapp'd to his breast, A third would have it a dog, a fourth an oil, With wild cats' skins: at last, they all resolved That, to preserve him, was no other means, But some young woman must be straight sought

out,

Lusty, and full of juice, to sleep by him;
And to this service, most unhappily,

And most unwillingly, am I now employ'd,
Which here I thought to pre-acquaint you with,
For your advice, since it concerns you most;
Because, I would not do that thing might cross
Your ends, on whom I have my whole dependance,
sir:

Yet, if I do it not, they may delate*

My slackness to my patron, work me out
Of his opinion; and there all your hopes,
Ventures, or whatsoever, are all frustrate!
I do but tell you, sir. Besides, they are all
Now striving, who shall first present him; there-
fore-

I could entreat you, briefly conclude somewhat;
Prevent them if you can.

Coro. Death to my hopes,

This is my villainous fortune! Best to hire
Some common courtezan.

they may delate

My slackness to my patron,] i. e. accuse, or complain of: a vile latinism. "Prevent them," just below, is anticipate them.

Mos. Ay, I thought on that, sir;
But they are all so subtle, full of art—
And age again doting and flexible,
So as I cannot tell-we may, perchance,
Light on a quean may cheat us all.

Corv. 'Tis true.

Mos. No, no: it must be one that has no tricks, sir,

Some simple thing, a creature made unto it ;* Some wench you may command. Have you no kinswoman?

Odso-Think, think, think, think, think, think, think, sir.

One o' the doctors offer'd there his daughter.
Coro. How!

Mos. Yes, signior Lupo, the physician.
Coro. His daughter!

Mos. And a virgin, sir. Why, alas,

He knows the state of's body, what it is;
That nought can warm his blood, sir, but a fever;"
Nor any incantation raise his spirit:

A long forgetfulness hath seized that part.
Besides, sir, who shall know it? some one or

two

Coro. I pray thee give me leave. [walks aside.] any man

If But I had had this luck--The thing in't self, I know, is nothing-Wherefore should not I As well command my blood and my affections, As this dull doctor? In the point of honour, The cases are all one of wife and daughter.

*A creature made unto it.] See p. 45.

5 That nought can warm his blood, sir, but a fever ;]

Præterea minimus gelido jam corpore sanguis

Febre calet sola.

Juv. Sat.

What follows is from the same satire.

Mos. I hear him coming."

Coro. She shall do't: 'tis done.

[Aside.

Slight! if this doctor, who is not engaged,
Unless 't be for his counsel, which is nothing,
Offer his daughter, what should I, that am
So deeply in? I will prevent him: Wretch!
Covetous wretch!'-Mosca, I have determined.
Mos. How, sir?

Coro. We'll make all sure. The party you wot of

Shall be mine own wife, Mosca.

Mos. Sir, the thing,

But that I would not seem to counsel you,
I should have motion'd to you, at the first:
And make your count, you have cut all their
throats.

Why, 'tis directly taking a possession!

And in his next fit, we may let him go.

'Tis but to pull the pillow from his head,

And he is throttled: it had been done before, But for your scrupulous doubts.

Coro. Ay, a plague on't,

My conscience fools my wit! Well, I'll be brief,

And so be thou, lest they should be before us:

I hear him coming.] Mosca, who overhears Corvino's last words, speaks this aside; and he means, that he is yielding, or coming into the plot he had laid, to procure his wife for Volpone. So in Eastward Hoe! A. V. "No more; I am coming already: if I should give any further ear, I were taken."

7

Wretch!

WHAL.

Covetous wretch!] "How finely," " is it says Upton, imagined by our poet, to make Corvino see the basely covetous character of the physician, and yet be so strangely ignorant of his own! This is an instance of our comedian's great insight into the characters of mankind."

This is one of ten thousand: but, indeed, no language can do full justice to the various excellencies of this truly attic drama.

Go home, prepare him, tell him with what zeal
And willingness I do it; swear it was

On the first hearing, as thou may'st do, truly,
Mine own free motion.

Mos. Sir, I warrant you,

I'll so possess him with it, that the rest
Of his starv'd clients shall be banish'd all;
And only you received. But come not, sir,
Until I send, for I have something else
To ripen for your good, you must not know't.
Corv. But do not you forget to send now.
Mos. Fear not.

[Exit. Coro. Where are you, wife? my Celia ! wife!

Re-enter CELIA.

-What, blubbering?

Come, dry those tears. I think thou thought'st me in earnest;

Ha! by this light I talk'd so but to try thee:
Methinks, the lightness of the occasion

Should have confirm'd thee. Come, I am not jealous.

Cel. No!

Corv. Faith I am not, I, nor never was; It is a poor unprofitable humour.

Do not I know, if women have a will,

They'll do 'gainst all the watches of the world,
And that the fiercest spies are tamed with gold?
Tut, I am confident in thee, thou shalt see't;
And see I'll give thee cause too, to believe it.
Come kiss me. Go, and make thee ready straight,
In all thy best attire, thy choicest jewels,
Put them all on, and, with them, thy best looks:
We are invited to a solemn feast,

At old Volpone's, where it shall appear

How far I am free from jealousy or fear. [Exeunt,

ACT III. SCENE I.

A Street.

Enter Mosca.

Mos. I fear, I shall begin to grow in love With my dear self, and my most prosperous parts, They do so spring and burgeon; I can feel A whimsy in my blood: I know not how, Success hath made me wanton. I could skip Out of my skin, now, like a subtle snake, I am so limber. O! your parasite

Is a most precious thing, dropt from above,
Not bred 'mongst clods and clodpoles, here on
earth.

I muse, the mystery was not made a science,
It is so liberally profest! almost

All the wise world is little else, in nature,
But parasites or sub-parasites.-And, yet,

I mean not those that have your bare town-art,
To know who's fit to feed them; have no house,
No family, no care, and therefore mould
Tales for men's ears, to bait that sense; or get
Kitchen-invention, and some stale receipts
To please the belly, and the groin; nor those,
With their court dog-tricks, that can fawn and
fleer,

Make their revenue out of legs and faces,"

7 Make their revenue out of legs and faces,] i. e out of bows, and smiles, or rather, perhaps, as Juvenal expresses it, moulding their faces to suit the humour of their patron's-alienum sumere vultum, &c.