|Volp. In vain ----||265|
Bon, (leaps out from where MOSCA had placed
him.) Forbear, foul ravisher! libidinous
Free the fore'd lady, or thou diest, impostor.
But that I'm loth to snatch thy punishment
Out of the hand of justice, thou shouldst yet
|Be made the timely sacrifice of vengeance,||270|
Lady, let's quit the place, it is the den
Of villany; fear nought, you have a guard:
|And he ere long shall meet his just reward.||274|
Volp. Fall on me, roof, and bury me in ruin
Become my grave, that wert my shelter! O !
I am unmask'd, unspirited, undone,
Betray'd to beggary, to infamy ----
VOLPONE. [Enter] MOSCA, [wounded and bleed-
Mos. Where shall I run, most wretched shame
To beat out my unlucky brains?
Volp. Here, here.
What! dost thou bleed?
Mos. O, that his well-driv'n sword
Had been so courteous to have cleft me down
|Unto the navel, ere I liv'd to see||5|
Thus desperately engaged by my error!
Volp. Woe on thy fortune!
Mos. And my follies, sir.
Volp. Thou hast made me miserable.
Mos. And myself, sir.
Who would have thought he would have hear-
|k'ned so ?||10|
Volp. What shall we do?
Mos. I know not; if my heart
Could expiate the mischance, I'd pluck it out.
Will you be pleas'd to hang me, or cut my throat?
And I'll requite you, sir. Let's die, like
Since we have liv'd like Grecians.
They knock without.
|Volp. Hark! who's there ?||15|
I hear some footing; officers, the saffi,3
Come to apprehend us! I do feel the brand
Hissing already at my forehead; now
Mine ears are boring.
Mos. To your coach, sir, you,
Make that place good, however. [VOLPONE lies
|down as before.] Guilty men||20|
Suspect what they deserve still. Signior Cor-
[To them enter] CORBACCIO.
Corb. Why, how now, Mosca?
Mos. O, undone, amaz'd, sir.
Your son, I know not by what accident,
Acquainted with your purpose to my patron,
Touching your will, and making him your heir,
|Ent'red our house with violence, his sword|
Sought for you, called you wretch, unnatural,
Vow'd he would kill you.
Mos. Yes, and my patron.
Corb. This act shall disinherit him indeed:
Here is the will.
Mos. 'T is well, sir
Gorb. hight and well:
Be you as careful now for me.
[Enter VOLTORE behind.]
Mos. My life, sir, to
Is not more tender'd; I am only yours.
Corb. How does he? Will he die shortly, think'st thou?
Mos. I fear
He'll outlast May.
Mos. No, last out May, sir.
Corb. Couldst thou not gi' him a dram?
Mos. O, by no means, sir.
Corb. Nay, I'll not bid you.
Volt. [coming forward.] This is a knave, I
Mos. [Aside,seeing VOLT.] How! Signior Vol-
tore! did he hear me?
Mos. Who's that ? -- O, sir, most timely welcome --
To the discovery of your tricks, I fear.
You are his, only? And mine also, are you not?
Mos. Who? I, sir!
|Volt. You, sir. What device is this||20|
About a will?
Mos. A plot for you, sir.
Put not your foists5 upon me; I shall scent 'em.
Mos. Did you not hear it?
Volt. Yes, I hear Corbaccio
Rath made your patron there his heir.
Mos. 'T is true,
|By my device, drawn to it by my plot,||25|
Volt. Your patron should reciprocate?
And you have promis'd?
Mos. For your good I did, sir.
Nay, more, I told his son, brought, hid him
Where he might hear his father pass the deed;
|Being persuaded to it by this thought, sir,||30|
And then his father's oft disclaiming in him,
(Which I did mean t' help on), would sure en-
|To some violence upon his parent,||34|
And you be stated in a double hope.
Truth be my comfort, and my conscience,
My only aim was to dig you a fortune
Out of these two rotten sepulchres ----____________________
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Publication information: Book title: The Chief Elizabethan Dramatists, Excluding Shakespeare. Contributors: William Allan Neilson - Editor. Publisher: Houghton Mifflin. Place of publication: Boston. Publication year: 1911. Page number: 307.