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Lady P. This cannot work you Out of my snare.

Per. Why, am I in it, then?

Indeed your husband told me you were fair,
And so you are; only your nose inclines,*
That side that's next the sun, to the queen-apple.
Lady P. This cannot be endured, by any pa-
tience.

Enter MOSCA.

Mos. What is the matter, madam?
Lady P. If the senate

Right not my quest in this, I will protest them
To all the world, no aristocracy.

Mos. What is the injury, lady?
Lady P. Why, the callet'

You told me of, here I have ta'en disguised. Mos. Who? this! what means your ladyship? the creature

I mention'd to you is apprehended now,
Before the senate; you shall see her-

Lady P. Where?

Mos. I'll bring you to her. This young gentleman,

I saw him land this morning at the port.

4

·Only your nose inclines,

That side that's next the sun, to the queen-apple.] This burlesque similitude seems to have furnished sir John Suckling with a very pretty allusion, in his description of the rural bride: "For streaks of red were mingled there, “Such as are on a catharin-pear,

"The side that's next the sun."

WHAL.

5 Why, the callet, &c.] Callet, callat, or calot, is used by all our old writers for a strumpet of the basest kind. It is derived, as Urry observes, from calote, Fr. a sort of cap once worn by country-girls; and, like a hundred other terms of this na ture, from designating poverty or meanness, finally came, by no unnatural progress, to denote depravity and vice.

Lady P. Is't possible! how has my judgment wander'd?

Sir, I must, blushing, say to you, I have err'd; And plead your pardon.

Per. What, more changes yet!

Lady P. I hope you have not the malice to remember

A gentlewoman's passion. If you stay
In Venice here, please you to use me, sir
Mos. Will you go, madam?

Lady P. 'Pray you, sir, use me; in faith,
The more you see me, the more I shall conceive
You have forgot our quarrel.

[Exeunt Lady Would-be, Mosca, Nano, and Waiting-women.

Per. This is rare!

Sir Politick Would-be? no; sir Politick Bawd, To bring me thus acquainted with his wife! Well, wise sir Pol, since you have practised thus Upon my freshman-ship, I'll try your salt-head, What proof it is against a counter-plot.

SCENE II.

The Scrutineo, or Senate House.

[Exit.

Enter VOLTORE, CORBACCIO, CORVINO, and MOSCA.

Volt. Well, now you know the carriage of the business,

Your constancy is all that is required

Unto the safety of it.

Mos. Is the lie

Safely convey'd amongst us? is that sure?
Knows every man his burden?

Coro. Yes.

Mos. Then shrink not.

Corv. But knows the advocate the truth?
Mos. O, sir,

By no means; I devised a formal tale,

That salv'd your reputation. But be valiant, sir. Corv. I fear no one but him, that this his pleading

Should make him stand for a co-heir

Mos. Co-halter!

Hang him; we will but use his tongue, his noise, As we do croaker's here."

Corv. Ay, what shall he do?

Mos. When we have done, you mean?
Corv. Yes.

Mos. Why, we'll think :

Sell him for mummia; he's half dust already.
Do you not smile, [to Voltore.] to see this.buffalo,
How he doth sport it with his head?—I should,
If all were well and past. [Aside.]-Sir, [to Cor-
baccio.] only you

Are he that shall enjoy the crop of all,
And these not know for whom they toil.
Corb. Ay, peace.

Mos. [turning to Corvino.] But you shall eat it. Much! [Aside.]-Worshipful sir, [to Voltore. Mercury sit upon your thundering tongue,

[blocks in formation]

As we do croaker's, here.] i.e. the old raven's, Corbaccio's: this word would not have required a note, had not its meaning been overlooked by Upton, who wishes to read "crackers, that is squibs"!

7 But you shall eat it. Much!] Upton and Whalley constantly mistake the sense of this interjection; they will barn it to be elliptical, for "Much good may it do you!” w! is merely ironical, as I have already observed, and at all.

it

Or the French Hercules, and make your language
As conquering as his club, to beat along,
As with a tempest, flat, our adversaries;
But much more yours, sir.

Volt. Here they come, have done.

Mos. I have another witness, if you need, sir, I can produce.

Volt. Who is it?

Mos. Sir, I have her.

Enter Avocatori and take their seats, BONARIO, CELIA, Notario, Commandadori, Saffi, and other Officers of justice.

1 Avoc. The like of this the senate never heard of.

2 Aroc. "Twill come most strange to them when we report it.

4 Avoc. The gentlewoman has been ever held Of unreproved, name,

S Avoc. So has the youth.

4 Avoc. The more unnatural part that of his father.

2 Avoc. More of the husband.

1 Avoc. I not know to give His act a name, it is so monstrous!

4 Aroc. But the impostor, he's a thing created

To exceed example!

1 Aroc. And all after-times!

2 Avoc. I never heard a true voluptuary Described, but him.

8 Or the French Hercules,]" The Gallic or Celtic Hercules (says Upton) was the symbol of eloquence. Lucian has a treatise on this French Hercules, surnamed Ogmius: he was pictured drest in his lion's skin; in his right hand he held his club; in his left, his bow: several very small chains were figured reaching from his tongue to the ears of crowds of men at some distance."

3 Avoc. Appear yet those were cited?
Not. All but the old magnifico, Volpone.
1 Avoc. Why is not he here?

Mos. Please your fatherhoods,

Here is his advocate: himself's so weak,
So feeble-

4 Avoc. What are you?

Bon. His parasite,

His knave, his pandar: I beseech the court,
He may be forced to come, that your grave eyes
May bear strong witness of his strange impostures.
Volt. Upon my faith and credit with your vir-

tues,

He is not able to endure the air.

2 Avoc. Bring him, however. 3 Avoc. We will see him.

4 Avoc. Fetch him.

Volt. Your fatherhoods fit pleasures be obey'd; [Exeunt Officers. But sure, the sight will rather move your pities, Than indignation. May it please the court, In the mean time, he may be heard in me: I know this place most void of prejudice, And therefore crave it, since we have no reason To fear our truth should hurt our cause.

3 Avoc. Speak free.

Volt. Then know, most honour'd fathers, I must now

Discover to your strangely abused ears,
The most prodigious and most frontless piece
Of solid impudence, and treachery,

That ever vicious nature yet brought forth
To shame the state of Venice. This lewd woman,
That wants no artificial looks or tears

To help the vizor she has now put on,

Hath long been known a close adulteress

To that lascivious youth there; not suspected,

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