SCENE III.

Another Part of the Same.

Enter Mosca and CORVINO, CELIA following.

Mos. Death on me! you are come too soon, what meant you?

Did not I say, I would send?

Coro. Yes, but I fear'd

You might forget it, and then they prevent us. Mos. Prevent! did e'er man haste so, for his horns?

A courtier would not ply it so, for a place. [Aside.
Well, now there is no helping it, stay here;
I'll presently return.

Coro. Where are you, Celia?

[Exit.

You know not wherefore I have brought you

hither?

Cel. Not well, except you told me.

Corv. Now, I will:

Hark hither.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

A Closet opening into a Gallery.

Enter MOSCA and BONARIO.

Mos. Sir your father hath sent word, It will be half an hour ere he come; And therefore, if you please to walk the while Into that gallery-at the upper end,

There are some books to entertain the time: And I'll take care no man shall come unto you, sir.

Bon. Yes, I will stay there.--I do doubt this

fellow. [Aside, and exit. Mos. [Looking after him.] There; he is far enough; he can hear nothing:

And, for his father, I can keep him off.

SCENE V.

[Exit.

Volpone's Chamber.- VOLPONE on his couch. MOSCA sitting by him.

Enter CORVINO forcing in CELIA.

Corv. Nay, now, there is no starting back, and therefore,

Resolve upon it: I have so decreed.

It must be done. Nor would I move't afore,
Because I would avoid all shifts and tricks,
That might deny me.

Cel. Sir, let me beseech you,

Affect not these strange trials; if

you doubt My chastity, why, lock me up for ever; Make me the heir of darkness. Let me live, Where I may please your fears, if not your trust. Corv. Believe it, I have no such humour, I. All that I speak I mean; yet I'm not mad; Nor horn-mad, see you? Go to, shew yourself Obedient, and a wife.

Cel. O heaven!
Coro. I say it,

Do so.

Cel. Was this the train?

Coro. I've told you reasons;

What the physicians have set down; how much It may concern me; what my engagements are; My means; and the necessity of those means,

For my recovery: wherefore, if you be
Loyal, and mine, be won, respect my venture.
Cel. Before your honour?

Corv. Honour! tut, a breath :*

There's no such thing in nature: a mere term
Invented to awe fools. What is my gold

The worse for touching, clothes for being look'd on?
Why, this 's no more. An old decrepit wretch,
That has no sense, no sinew; takes his meat
With others fingers; only knows to gape,
When you do scald his gums; a voice, a shadow;
And, what can this man hurt you?

Cel. Lord! what spirit

Is this hath enter'd him?

Coro. And for your fame,

[Aside.

That's such a jig; as if I would go tell it,
Cry it on the Piazza! who shall know it,
But he that cannot speak it, and this fellow,
Whose lips are in my pocket? save yourself,
(If you'll proclaim't, you may,) I know no other
Should come to know it.

Cel. Are heaven and saints then nothing?
Will they be blind or stupid?

Corv. How !

Cel. Good sir,

Be jealous still, emulate them; and think
What hate they burn with toward every sin.

Coro. I grant you: if I thought it were a sin,
I would not urge you. Should I offer this
To some young Frenchman, or hot Tuscan blood

4 Honour? tut, a breath, &c.] This is excellent after what we had from him, p. 224. The genius and skill with which Jonson has conceived and conducted this extraordinary vicious character, are altogether surprising. The conclusion of this speech is from Juvenal:

-hujus

Pallida labra cibum capiunt digitis alienis:
Ipse ad conspectum cœna diducere rictum
Suetus, hiat tantum &c. Sat. x.

That had read Aretine, conn'd all his prints,
Knew every quirk within lust's labyrinth,
And were profest critic in lechery;

And I would look upon him, and applaud him,
This were a sin: but here, 'tis contrary,
A pious work, mere charity for physic,
And honest polity, to assure mine own.

Cel. O heaven! canst thou suffer such a change? Volp. Thou art mine honour, Mosca, and my pride,

My joy, my tickling, my delight! Go bring them.
Mos. [advancing.] Please you draw near, sir.
Coro. Come on, what--

You will not be rebellious? by that light--
Mos. Sir,

Signior Corvino, here, is come to see you.
Volp. Oh!

Mos. And hearing of the consultation had,
So lately, for your health, is come to offer,
Or rather, sir, to prostitute-

Coro. Thanks, sweet Mosca.

Mos. Freely, unask'd, or unintreated---
Coro. Well.

Mos. As the true fervent instance of his love, His own most fair and proper wife; the beauty, Only of price in Venice

Corv. 'Tis well urged.

Mos. To be your comfortress, and to preserve

you.

Volp. Alas, I am past, already! Pray you, thank him

For his good care and promptness; but for that, 'Tis a vain labour e'en to fight 'gainst heaven; Applying fire to stone-uh, uh, uh, uh! [coughing.] Making a dead leaf grow again. I take

His wishes gently, though; and you may tell him, What I have done for him: marry, my state is hopeless.

Will him to pray for me; and to use his fortune With reverence, when he comes to't.

Mos. Do you hear, sir? Go to him with your wife.

Corv. Heart of my father!

Wilt thou persist thus? come, I pray thee, come.
Thou seest 'tis nothing, Celia. By this hand,
I shall grow violent. Come, do't, I say.

Cel. Sir, kill me, rather: I will take down poison,

Eat burning coals, do any thing.-—

Corv. Be damn'd!

Heart, I will drag thee hence, home, by the hair;
Cry thee a strumpet through the streets; rip up
Thy mouth unto thine ears; and slit thy nose,
Like a raw rochet!'-Do not tempt me; come,
Yield, I am loth-Death! I will buy some slave
Whom I will kill, and bind thee to him, alive;
And at my window hang you forth, devising
Some monstrous crime, which I, in capital letters,
Will eat into thy flesh with aquafortis,
And burning corsives, on this stubborn breast.
Now, by the blood thou hast incensed, I'll do it!
Cel. Sir, what you please, you may, I am your
martyr.

Coro. Be not thus obstinate, I have not de-
served it:

Think who it is intreats you. 'Prithee, sweet;— Good faith, thou shalt have jewels, gowns, attires, What thou wilt think, and ask. Do but go kiss

him.

Or touch him, but. For my sake.-At my suit.-This once.-No! not! I shall remember this. Will you disgrace me thus? Do you thirst my undoing?

5 Like a raw rochet!] A rochet or rouget, so named from its red colour, is a fish of the gurnet kind, but not so large. WHAL.