fill'd her skin, colour'd her hair; from her derived to Helen, and at the sack of Troy unfortunately lost: till now, in this our age, it was as happily recovered, by a studious antiquary, out of some ruins of Asia, who sent a moiety of it to the court of France, (but much sophisticated,) wherewith the ladies there, now, colour their hair. The rest, at this present, remains with me; extracted to a quintessence: so that, wherever it but touches, in youth it perpetually preserves, in age restores the complexion; seats your teeth, did they dance like virginal jacks, firm as a wall; makes them white as ivory, that were black as

Enter CORVINO.

Cor. Spight o' the devil, and my

down, here;

shame! come

Come down;-No house but mine to make your scene?

Signior Flaminio, will you down, sir? down?
What, is my wife your Franciscina, sir?
No windows on the whole Piazza, here,

To make your properties, but mine? but mine?

[Beats away Volpone, Nano, &c.

Heart! ere to-morrow I shall be new-christen'd, And call'd the Pantalone di Besogniosi,"

About the town.

Per. What should this mean, sir Pol?

Sir P. Some trick of state, believe it; I will home.
Per. It may be some design on you.

Sir P. I know not.

I'll stand upon my guard.

8

I shall be new christen'd,

And call'd the Pantalone di Besogniòsi,] i. e. the zany or fool of the beggars. Such, at least, is the vulgar import of the words; but Jonson probably affixed a more opprobrious sense to them.

Per. It is your best, sir.

Sir P. This three weeks, all my advices, all my letters,

They have been intercepted.

Per. Indeed, sir!

Best have a care.

Sir P. Nay, so I will.

Per. This knight,

I may not lose him, for my mirth, till night.

SCENE II.

A Room in Volpone's House.

Enter VOLPONE and Mosca.

Volp. O, I am wounded!

Mos. Where, sir?

Volp. Not without;

[Exeunt.

Those blows were nothing: I could bear them

ever.

But angry Cupid,* bolting from her eyes,
Hath shot himself into me like a flame;
Where, now, he flings about his burning heat,
As in a furnace an ambitious fire,

Whose vent is stopt. The fight is all within me.
I cannot live, except thou help me, Mosca;
My liver melts, and I, without the hope
Of some soft air, from her refreshing breath,
Am but a heap of cinders.

Mos. 'Las, good sir,

Would you had never seen her!

Volp. Nay, would thou

Hadst never told me of her!

Mos. Sir, 'tis true;

* But angry Cupid, &c.] This is prettily imitated from the concluding lines of the 14th Ode of Anacreon.

I do confess I was unfortunate,

And you unhappy: but I'm bound in conscience,
No less than duty, to effect my best
To your release of torment, and I will, sir.
Volp. Dear Mosca, shall I hope?

Mos. Sir, more than dear,

I will not bid you to despair of aught
Within a human compass.

Volp. O, there spoke

My better angel. Mosca, take my keys,
Gold, plate, and jewels, all's at thy devotion;
Employ them how thou wilt; nay, coin me too:
So thou, in this, but crown my longings, Mosca.
Mos. Use but your patience.

Volp. So I have.

Mos. I doubt not

To bring success to your desires.
Volp. Nay, then,

I not repent me of my late disguise.

Mos. If you can horn him, sir, you need not.
Volp. True:

Besides, I never meant him for my heir.-
Is not the colour of my beard and eyebrows
To make me known?

Mos. No jot.

Volp. I did it well.

Mos. So well, would I could follow you in mine, With half the happiness !—and yet I would

Escape your epilogue.'

Volp. But were they gull'd

With a belief that I was Scoto?

Mos. Sir,

[Aside.

Scoto himself could hardly have distinguish'd!
I have not time to flatter you now, we'll part:
And as I prosper, so applaud my art. [Exeunt.

9

and yet I would

Escape your epilogue.] i. e. the beating which Volpone had received from Corvino.

SCENE III.

A Room in Corvino's House.

Enter CORVINO, with his sword in his hand, dragging in CELIA.

Coro. Death of mine honour, with the city's fool!

A juggling, tooth-drawing, prating mountebank!
And at a public window! where, whilst he,
With his strain'd action, and his dole of faces,'
To his drug-lecture draws your itching ears,
A crew of old, unmarried, noted letchers,
Stood leering up like satyrs: and you smile
Most graciously, and fan your favours forth,
To give your hot spectators satisfaction!

What, was your mountebank their call? their whistle?

Or were you enamour'd on his copper rings,
His saffron jewel, with the toad-stone in't,
Or his embroider'd suit, with the cope-stitch,
Made of a herse cloth? or his old tilt-feather?
Or his starch'd beard? Well! you shall have
him, yes!

He shall come home, and minister unto you
The fricace for the mother. Or, let me see,
I think you'd rather mount; would you not mount?

whilst he,

With his strain'd action, and his dole of faces,] Dole of faces, is the grimace, or change of features, which accompanied Volpone's action. We have a parallel expression in the beginning of Sejunus:

"We have no shift of faces." WHAL.

Why, if you'll mount, you may; yes, truly, you

may:

And so you may be seen, down to the foot.
Get you a cittern, lady Vanity,

And be a dealer with the virtuous man;
Make one: I'll but protest myself a cuckold,
And save your dowry. I'm a Dutchman, I!
For, if you thought me an Italian,

You would be damn'd, ere you did this, you whore!
Thou'dst tremble, to imagine, that the murder
Of father, mother, brother, all thy race,
Should follow, as the subject of my justice.
Cel. Good sir, have patience.

Coro. What couldst thou propose

Less to thyself, than in this heat of wrath,
And stung with my dishonour, I should strike
This steel into thee, with as many stabs,
As thou wert gaz'd upon with goatish eyes?
Cel. Alas, sir, be appeased! I could not think
My being at the window should more now
Move your impatience, than at other times.

Coro. No! not to seek and entertain a parley
With a known knave, before a multitude!
You were an actor with your handkerchief,
Which he most sweetly kist in the receipt,
And might, no doubt, return it with a letter,
And point the place where you might meet;
your sister's,

Your mother's, or your aunt's might serve the turn. Cel. Why, dear sir, when do I make these ex

cuses,

Or ever stir abroad, but to the church?

And that so seldom

2 What couldst thou propose, &c.] This outrageous respect for his honour is an admirable preparation for his conduct in the ensuing conversation with Mosca.