Or I shall draw the only tooth is left.
Are not you he, that filthy covetous wretch,
With the three legs, that here, in hope of prey,
Have, any time this three years, snuff'd about,
With your most grovelling nose, and would have
hired

Me to the poisoning of my patron, sir?
Are not you he that have to-day in court.
Profess'd the disinheriting of your son?
Perjured yourself? Go home, and die, and stink;
If you but croak a syllable, all comes out:
Away, and call your porters! [Exit Corbaccio.]-
Go, go, stink.

Volp. Excellent varlet!

Volt. Now, my faithful Mosca,

I find thy constancy.

Mos. Sir!

Volt. Sincere.

Mos. [writing.] A table

Of porphyry-I marle you'll be thus troublesome.
Volt. Nay, leave off now, they are gone.
Mos. Why, who are you?

What! who did send for you? O, cry you mercy,
Reverend sir! Good faith, I am grieved for you,
That any chance of mine should thus defeat
Your (I must needs say) most deserving travails:
But I protest, sir, it was cast upon me,
And I could almost wish to be without it,
But that the will o' the dead must be observ'd.
Marry, my joy is that you need it not;
You have a gift, sir, (thank your education,)
Will never let you want, while there are men,
And malice, to breed causes. Would I had
But half the like, for all my fortune, sir!
If I have any suits, as I do hope,

Things being so easy and direct, I shall not,
I will make bold with your obstreperous aid,
Conceive me,-for your fee, sir. In mean time,

You that have so much law, I know have the

conscience

Not to be covetous of what is mine.

Good sir, I thank you for my plate; 'twill help
To set up a young man. Good faith, you
As you were costive; best go home and

sir.

look home and purge,

[Exit Voltore. Volp. [comes from behind the curtain.] Bid him eat lettuce well. My witty mischief, Let me embrace thee. O that I could now Transform thee to a Venus!--Mosca, go, Straight take my habit of clarissimo,

And walk the streets; be seen, torment them more: We must pursue, as well as plot. Who would Have lost this feast?

Mos. I doubt it will lose them.

Volp. O, my recovery shall recover all. That I could now but think on some disguise To meet them in, and ask them questions: How I would vex them still at every turn! Mos. Sir, I can fit you.

Volp. Canst thou?

Mos. Yes, I know

One o' the commandadori, sir, so like you; Him will I straight make drunk, and bring you his habit.

Volp. A rare disguise, and answering thy brain! O, I will be a sharp disease unto them. Mos. Sir, you must look for cursesVolp. Till they burst;

---

The Fox fares ever best when he is curst.

[Exeunt.

* Bid him eat lettuce well.]-as a soporific. "Did I eat any lettuce to supper, last night, that I am so sleepy?" Green's Tu Quoque. And Pope,

"if your point be rest,

"Lettuce, and cowslip-wine; probatum est."

SCENE II.

A Hall in sir Politick's House.

Enter PEREGRINE disguised, and three Merchants.

Per. Am I enough disguised?

1 Mer. I warrant you.

Per. All my ambition is to fright him only. 2 Mer. If you could ship him away, 'twere excellent.

3 Mer. To Zant, or to Aleppo?

Per. Yes, and have his

Adventures put i' the Book of Voyages,'
And his gull'd story register'd for truth.
Well, gentlemen, when I am in a while,
And that you think us warm in our discourse,
Know your approaches.

1 Mer. Trust it to our care.

[Exeunt Merchants.

Enter Waiting-woman.

Per. Save you, fair lady! Is sir Pol within? Wom. I do not know, sir.

Per. Pray you say unto him,

3 In the Book of Voyages,] I know not what particular book Jonson had in view here, unless he may be thought to allude to the early volumes of Hakluyt, a man never to be mentioned without praise and veneration. Collections of voyages, however, were sufficiently numerous in the poet's time, when they formed the delight of all classes of people; many of them, too, contained "stories" not only "registered" but received "for truth," altogether as extravagant as this ridiculous adventure of sir Politick's, which had nothing in it to shock the taste, or even to tax the credulity of our forefathers.

Here is a merchant, upon earnest business,
Desires to speak with him.

Wom. I will see, sir.

Per. Pray you.

I see the family is all female here.

Re-enter Waiting-woman.

[Exit.

Wom. He says, sir, he has weighty affairs of state,

That now require him whole; some other time You may possess him.

Per. Pray you say again,

If those require him whole, these will exact him, Whereof I bring him tidings.

What might be

[Exit Woman.]—

His grave affair of state now! how to make
Bolognian sausages here in Venice, sparing
One o' the ingredients?

Re-enter Waiting-woman.

Wom. Sir, he says, he knows

By your word tidings,* that you are no statesman, And therefore wills you stay.

Per. Sweet, pray you return him ;

I have not read so many proclamations,

And studied them for words, as he has doneBut-here he deigns to come.

Enter sir POLITICK.

Sir P. Sir, I must crave

[Exit Woman.

Your courteous pardon. There hath chanced to-day,

By your word tidings,] The state term, I presume, was intelligence. Tidings, sir Pol seems to consider as a mercantile or city phrase.

Unkind disaster 'twixt my lady and me;
And I was penning my apology,

To give her satisfaction, as you came now.
Per. Sir, I am grieved I bring you worse dis-

aster:

The gentleman you met at the port to-day,
That told you, he was newly arrived-

Sir P. Ay, was

A fugitive punk?

Per. No, sir, a spy set on you;

And he has made relation to the senate,
That you profest to him to have a plot
To sell the State of Venice to the Turk.
Sir P. O me!

Per. For which, warrants are sign'd by this
time,

To apprehend you, and to search your study
For papers-

Sir P. Alas, sir, I have none, but notes
Drawn out of play-books-

Per. All the better, sir.

Sir P. And some essays. What shall I do?
Per. Sir, best

Convey yourself into a sugar-chest;

Or, if you could lie round, a frail were rare,"
And I could send you aboard.

Sir P. Sir, I but talk'd so,

For discourse sake merely.
Per. Hark! they are there.

[Knocking within.

Sir P. I am a wretch, a wretch!
Per. What will you do, sir?

Have you ne'er a currant-butt to leap into?
They'll put you to the rack; you must be sudden.
Sir P. Sir, I have an ingine

5 A frail were rare,] A rush-basket, in which raisins and figs are usually packed. WHAL.