Echo my lord, and lick away a moth :'
But your fine elegant rascal, that can rise,
And stoop, almost together, like an arrow;
Shoot through the air as nimbly as a star;
Turn short as doth a swallow; and be here,
And there, and here, and yonder, all at once;
Present to any humour, all occasion;
And change a visor, swifter than a thought!
This is the creature had the art born with him;
Toils not to learn it, but doth practise it
Out of most excellent nature and such sparks
Are the true parasites, others but their zanis.*

9 Echo my lord, and lick away a moth :] This, as Upton affectedly observes, is an allusion "to such officious kind of parasites, as are called in Low Dutch pluyme-strücker, qui plumas pilosque ex vestibus assentatoriè legit." All this learning is from Minshieu Jonson, however, did not go to Holland for his flatterer, but to Attica, a country with which he was much better acquainted: Απο τε ἱματις αφέλειν κροκίδα και εαν τι προς το τρίχωμα της κεφαλής απο πνευματος προσενεχθη αχυρον καρφολογησαι. Theo. phras. περι κολακείας.

Hall has the same allusion:

“But some one, like a claw-backe parasite,

"Pick'd mothes from his patron's cloake in sight."

Sat. Lib. 6.

Mr. Cumberland parallels this exquisite speech with that of a parasite, preserved to us in a fragment of Eupolis. The advantage, however, is on the side of Jonson. His "fine elegant rascal,

"that can rise,

"And stoop, almost together, like an arrow;
"Shoot through the air as nimbly as a star;

"Turn short as doth a swallow," &c.

is much superior to the parasite of the Greek dramatist, whom our poet undoubtedly had in view, and over whom he manifestly triumphs in the conclusion of his speech.

Lucian's parasite, who is here brought forward by Upton, is, it must be confessed, a sprightly, impudent, pleasant fellow;

Enter BONARIO.

Who's this? Bonario, old Corbaccio's son?
The person I was bound to seek. -Fair sir,
You are happily met.

Bon. That cannot be by thee.

Mos. Why, sir?

Bon. Nay, pray thee know thy way, and leave

me:

I would be loth to interchange discourse
With such a mate as thou art.

Mos. Courteous sir,

Scorn not my poverty.

Bon. Not I, by heaven;

But thou shalt give me leave to hate thy baseness.
Mos. Baseness !

Bon. Ay; answer me, is not thy sloth
Sufficient argument? thy flattery?
Thy means of feeding?

Mos. Heaven be good to me!

These imputations are too common, sir,
And easily stuck on virtue when she's poor.
You are unequal to me, and however
Your sentence may be righteous, yet you are not,
That, ere you know me, thus proceed in censure:
St. Mark bear witness 'gainst you, 'tis inhuman.
[Weeps.

Bon. What! does he weep? the sign is soft

and good:

I do repent me that I was so harsh.

[Aside.

from him, however, Jonson has taken nothing, but the idea that "the mystery should be made a science," &c. Indeed the two characters are perfectly distinct.

2 You are unequal to me, &c.] i. e. unjust; you do not judge equitably. The sentiment itself is from the Medea of Seneca: Qui statuit aliquid, parte inauditá alterð, Equum licet statuerit, haud æquus fuit.

WHAL.

Mos. 'Tis true, that, sway'd by strong necessity,
I am enforced to eat my careful bread
With too much obsequy; 'tis true, beside,
That I am fain to spin mine own poor raiment
Out of my mere observance, being not born
To a free fortune: but that I have done
Base offices, in rending friends asunder,
Dividing families, betraying counsels,
Whispering false lies, or mining men with praises,
Train'd their credulity with perjuries,
Corrupted chastity, or am in love

With mine own tender ease, but would not rather
Prove the most rugged, and laborious course,
That might redeem my present estimation,
Let me here, perish, in all hope of goodness.
Bon. This cannot be a personated passion.-
[Aside.

I was to blame, so to mistake thy nature;
Prithee forgive me: and speak out thy business.
Mos. Sir, it concerns you; and though I may

seem,

At first to make a main offence in manners,
And in my gratitude unto my master;
Yet, for the pure love, which I bear all right,
And hatred of the wrong, I must reveal it.
This very
hour your father is in purpose

To disinherit you

Bon. How!

Mos. And thrust you forth,

As a mere stranger to his blood; 'tis true, sir.
The work no way engageth me, but, as

I claim an interest in the general state
Of goodness and true virtue, which I hear
To abound in you; and, for which mere respect,
Without a second aim, sir, I have done it.

Bon. This tale hath lost thee much of the late

trust

Thou hadst with me; it is impossible:
I know not how to lend it any thought,
My father should be so unnatural.

Mos. It is a confidence that well becomes
Your piety; and form'd, no doubt, it is

From your own simple innocence which makes Your wrong more monstrous and abhorr'd. But, sir,

I now will tell you more. This very minute,
It is, or will be doing; and, if you

Shall be but pleased to go with me, I'll bring you,
I dare not say where you shall see, but where
Your ear shall be a witness of the deed;

Hear yourself written bastard, and profest
The common issue of the earth.

Bon. I am mazed!

Mos. Sir, if I do it not, draw your just sword, And score your vengeance on my front and face; Mark me your villain: you have too much wrong, And I do suffer for you, sir. My heart Weeps blood in anguish

Bon. Lead; I follow thee.

SCENE II.

A Room in Volpone's House.

Enter VOLPONE.

[Exeunt.

Volp. Mosca stays long, methinks.-Bring forth your sports,

And help to make the wretched time more sweet.

Enter NANO, ANDROGYNO, and CASTRONE.

Nan. Dwarf, fool, and eunuch, well met here we

be.

A question it were now, whether of us three,
Being all the known delicates of a rich man,
In pleasing him, claim the precedency can?
Cas. I claim for myself.

And. And so doth the fool.

Nan. 'Tis foolish indeed: let me set you both to school.

First for your dwarf, he's little and witty,
And every thing, as it is little, is pretty;
Else why do men say to a creature of my shape,
So soon as they see him, It's a pretty little ape?
And why a pretty ape, but for pleasing imitation
Of greater men's actions, in a ridiculous fashion?
Beside, this feat body of mine doth not crave
Half the meat, drink, and cloth, one of your bulks
will have.

Admit your fool's face be the mother of laughter,
Yet, for his brain, it must always come after:
And though that do feed him, it's a pitiful case,
His body is beholding to such a bad face.

[Knocking within.

Volp. Who's there? my couch; away! look!

Nano, see:

[Exe. And. and Cas.

Give me my caps, first-go, enquire. [Exit
Nano.]-Now, Cupid

Send it be Mosca, and with fair return!
Nan. [within.] It is the beauteous madam-
Vol. Would-be-is it?

Nan. The same.

Vol. Now torment on me! Squire her in; For she will enter, or dwell here for ever: