Coro. How shall I do then?. Mos. Why, sir? Coro. I have brought him here a pearl. So much remembrance left, as to know you, sir: Mos. Hark. Volp. Signior Corvino! Mos. He calls you; step and give it him.-He's here, sir, And he has brought you a rich pearl. Corv. How do you, sir? Tell him, it doubles the twelfth caract.' He cannot understand, his hearing's gone; I have a diamond for him, too. Mos. Best shew it, sir; Put it into his hand; 'tis only there He apprehends: he has his feeling, yet. See how he grasps it! Corv. 'Las, good gentleman! How pitiful the sight is! 6 Is your pearl orient, sir?] i. e. bright, sparkling, pellucid. Thus Shakspeare: "Bright orient pearl, alack! too timely shaded." And Milton, Offering to every wearied traveller "His orient liquor in a crystal glass." Comus, v. 64. 7 It doubles the twelfth caract.] A caract is a weight of four grains, by which jewels are weighed. The same expression occurs in Cartwright: 66 Diamonds, two whereof "Do double the twelfth caract? Lady Errant. Mos. Tut! forget, sir. The weeping of an heir should still be laughter Under a visor.' Coro. Why, am I his heir? Mos. Sir, I am sworn, I may not show the Will Till he be dead; but here has been Corbaccio, Here has been Voltore, here were others too, I cannot number 'em, they were so many; All gaping here for legacies: but I, Taking the vantage of his naming you, Signior Corvino, Signior Corvino, took Paper, and pen, and ink, and there I ask'd him, Whom he would have his heir? Corvino. Who Should be executor? Corvino. And, Το any question he was silent to, I still interpreted the nods he made, Through weakness, for consent: and sent home th' others, Nothing bequeath'd them, but to cry and curse.' Coro. O, my dear Mosca! [They embrace.] Does he not perceive us? Mos. No more than a blind harper. He knows no man, No face of friend, nor name of any servant, Who 'twas that fed him last, or gave him drink: Not those he hath begotten, or brought up, Can he remember. Coro. Has he children? Mos. Bastards, Some dozen, or more, that he begot on beggars, The weeping of an heir should still be laughter Under a visor.] Hæredis fletus sub personá risus est. P. Syrus. 9 Nothing bequeath'd them, but to cry and curse.] From Horace, as Upton observes: Gypsies,' and Jews, and black-moors, when he was drunk. Knew you not that, sir? 'tis the common fable. The dwarf, the fool, the eunuch, are all his; He's the true father of his family, In all, save me :—but he has given them nothing. Coro. That's well, that's well! Art sure he does not hear us? own sense. Mos. Sure, sir! why, look you, credit your [Shouts in Vol.'s ear. The pox approach, and add to your diseases, If it would send you hence the sooner, sir, For your incontinence, it hath deserv'd it Throughly and throughly, and the plague to boot! You may come near, sir.-Would you would once close Those filthy eyes of yours, that flow with slime, Like two frog-pits; and those same hanging cheeks, Cover'd with hide instead of skin-Nay, help, sir ' That look like frozen dish-clouts set on end! 1 Bastards, Some dozen, or more, that he begot on beggars, Gypsies, &c.] This is a playful application of Martial's epigram on Quirinalis: Uxorem habendam non putat Quirinalis, Cum vult habere filios; et invenit Quo possit istud more: (amplectitur) ancillas, Domumque et agros implet equitibus vernis. Paterfamilias verus est Quirinalis. Lib. i. ep. 85. Upton also points out the allusions to Juvenal; but they are too well known to call for particular notice. Nay, help, sir,] i. e. to rail and abuse Volpone. This exposure of Corvino is happily designed: but, indeed, the whole of the act is a master-piece of truth and genuine comic humour. Coro. [aloud.] Or like an old smoked wall, on which the rain Ran down in streaks! Mos. Excellent, sir! speak out: Mos. 'Tis good! And what his mouth? Mos. O, stop it up Coro. By no means.. Mos. 'Pray you, let me: Faith I could stifle him rarely with a pillow, It is your presence makes him last so long. Mos. No, sir! why? Why should you be thus scrupulous, pray you, Coro. Nay, at your discretion. Mos. Well, good sir, be gone. sir? Coro. I will not trouble him now, to take my pearl.3 Mos. Puh! nor your diamond. What a need less care Is this afflicts you? Is not all here yours? ture? That owe my being to you? Coro. Grateful Mosca ! Thou art my friend, my fellow, my companion, My partner, and shalt share in all my fortunes. 3 I will not trouble him now, to take my pearl.] i. e. to wrest it from Volpone, who, in his supposed state of insensibility, had closed his hand upon it. Mos. Excepting one. Coro. What's that? Mos. Your gallant wife, sir. [Exit Coro. Now is he gone: we had no other means To shoot him hence, but this. Volp. My divine Mosca! Thou hast to-day outgone thyself. [Knocking within.]-Who's there? I will be troubled with no more. Prepare A diamond plate! chequines! Good morning's purchase. Why, this is better than rob churches, yet; Who is't? Re-enter MoSCA. Mos. The beauteous lady Would-be, sir, Wife to the English knight, sir Politick Would-be, (This is the style, sir, is directed me,) Hath sent to know how you have slept to-night, And if you would be visited? Volp. Not now: Some three hours hence Mos. I told the squire so much. Volp. When I am high with mirth and wine ; then, then : 'Fore heaven, I wonder at the desperate valour Of the bold English, that they dare let loose Their wives to all encounters! Mos. Sir, this knight Had not his name for nothing, he is politick, And knows, howe'er his wife affect strange airs, |