VOLTORE

What says he? How fare you, sir? I'm sorry, To see you still thus weak. No, sir, would to heaven, I could as well give health to you, as that plate. Yes, I shall, sir. Am I?) But, MOSCA— pray thee hear me. Am I inscribed his heir, for certain? It shall both shine, and warm thee, MOSCA. But am I sole heir? Happy, happy, me! By what good chance, sweet MOSCA? Thy modesty Is loath to know it; well, we shall requite it. MOSCA— This is a knave, I see. Parasite. Scarce, To the discovery of your tricks, I fear. You are his, only? and mine, also? are you not? You, sir. What device is this About a will? Come, Put not your foist's upon me, I shall sent them. Yes, I hear, CORBACCIO Hath made your patron, there, his heir. Your patron should reciprocate? And, you have promised? Why? what success? What, with a present? Where's her husband? Let him be sent for, straight. Bring him, to the Scrutineo. This must be stopped. Wilt please you sir, to go along? Here they come, have done. Who is it? Upon my faith, and credit, with your virtues, He is not able to endure the air. Your fatherhoods fit pleasures be obeyed, But sure, the sighed will rather move your pities, Then indignation; may it please the court, In the mean time, he may be herd 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. Then know, most honoured father's, 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 visor, she has now put on) Hath long been known a close adulteress, To that lascivious youth there; not suspected, I say, but known; and taken, in the act; With him; and by this man, the easy husband, Pardoned: whose timeless bounty makes him, now, Stand here, the most unhappy, innocent person, That ever men own goodness made accused. For these, not knowing how to owe a gift Of that deer grace, but with their shame; being placed So above all powers of their gratitude, Began to hate the benefit: and, in place Of thanks, devise extirp the memory Of such and act. Wherein, I pray your fatherhoods, To observe the malice, yea, the rage of creatures Discovered in their evils; and what heart Such take, even, from their crimes. But that, anon, Will more appear. This gentleman, the father, Hearing of this foul fact, with many others, Which daily struck at his too-tender ears, And, grieved in nothing more, then that he could not Preserve him self a parent (his sons ills Growing to that strange flood) at last decreed To disinherit him. So much more full of danger is his vice, That can beguile so, under shade of virtue. But as I said (my honoured sire's) his father Having this settled purpose, (by what means To him betrayed, we know not) and this day Appointed for the deed; that parricide, (I cannot style him better) by confederacy Preparing this his paramour to be there, Entered VOLPONE'S house (who was the man Your fatherhoods must understand, designed For the inheritance) there, sought his father: But, with what purpose sought he him, my lords? (I tremble to pronounce it, that a son Unto a father, and to such a father Should have so foul, felonious intent) It was, to murder him. When, being prevented By his more happy absence, what then did he? Not check his wicked thoughts; no, now new deeds: (Mischief does ever end, where it begins) And act of horror, father's! he dragged forth The aged gentleman, that had there lain, bedrid, Three years, and more, out off his innocent couch, Naked, upon the floor, there left him; wounded His servant in the face; and, with this strumpet The stale to his forged practice, who was glad To be so active, (I shall here desire Your fatherhoods to note but my collections, As most remarkable) thought, at once, to stop His father's ends; discredit his free choice, In the old gentleman; redeem themselves, By laying infamy upon this man, To whom, with blushing, they should owe their lives. Nay, nay, graven father's, Let him have scope: can any man imagine That he will spare' his accuser, that would not Have spared his parent? Signior CORBACCIO. The father. Signior CORVINO. Grave father's, She is a creature, of a most professed, And prostituted lewdness. May her feignings Not take your wisdoms: but, this day, she baited A stranger, a graven knight, with her lose eyes, And more lascivious kisses. This man saw them Together, on the water, in a gondola. Here, here, The testimony comes, that will convince, And put to utter dumbness their bold tongues. See here, graven father's, here's the ravisher, The rider on men's wives, the great impostor, The grand voluptuary! do you not think, These limbs should affect venery? or these eyes Covet a concubine? pray you, mark these hands. Are they not fit to stroke a ladies breasts? Perhaps, he does dissemble? Would you have him tortured? Best try him, then, with goads, or burning Irons; Put him to the strappado: I have herd, The rack hath cured the gout, faith, give it him, And help him of a malady, be courteous. I'll undertake, before these honoured father's, He shall have, yet, as many left diseases, As she has known adulterers, or thou strumpets. Oh, my most equal hearers, if these deeds, Acts, of this bold, and most exorbitant strain, May pass with sufferance, what one citizen, But owes the forfeit of his life, yea fame, To him that dares traduce him? which of you Are safe, my honoured father's? I would ask (With leave of your graven fatherhoods) if their plot Have any face, or colour Like to truth? Or if, unto the dullest nostril, here, It smell not rank, and most abhorred slander? I crave your care of this good gentleman, Whose life is much endangered, by their fable; And, as for them, I will conclude with this, That vicious persons when they are hight, and fleshed In impious acts, their constancy abounds: Damned deeds are done with greatest confidence. We thank your fatherhoods. How Like you it? No, I'll leave you. Taking and inventory? that is well. Where's the will? Let me read that, the while. Is he come, now, to trouble us? I Like his care. MOSCA the heir! Certain, he does delude all these, for me. Now, my faithful MOSCA, I find thy constancy. Sincere. Nay, leave off now, they are gone. What do you mean? Come, sir, leave your prating. What do I know? Mistaking knave! what, mockest thou my misfortune? Well, sir. A strange, officious, Troublesome knave! thou dost torment me. Oh, my most honoured father's, let your mercy Once win upon your justice, to forgive— I am distracted— Whom, equally, I have abused, out of most covetous ends— For which; now struck in conscience, here I prostrate My self, at your offended feet, for pardon. It is not passion in me, reverend father's, But only conscience, conscience my good sire's, That makes me, now, tell truth. That parasite, That knave hath been the instrument of all. Oh, no, none: The parasite, graven father's. I, to your Hope's, as well as mine, CORVINO: But I'll use modesty. Pleases your wisdoms To view these certain notes, and but confer them; As I hope favour, they shall speak clear truth. I do beseech your fatherhoods, read but those; Most true. May't please your father hoods— How? Art' sure he lives? Oh me! I was to violent. Where am I? Yes, I do know it well, it is my hand: But all, that it contains, is false. Grave father's, No more then, his good patron, old VOLPONE. Oh no, my honoured father's. He lives— Lives. Never. The officer told me. I thank you, for him. This same Is, doubtless, some familiar! I cry thee mercy, MOSCA.)