Volpone Or the Fox Part 3

VOLP: Mosca.

MOS: My patron!

VOLP: Bring him near, where is he?

I long to feel his hand.

MOS: The plate is here, sir.

VOLT: How fare you, sir?

VOLP: I thank you, signior Voltore; Where is the plate? mine eyes are bad.

VOLT [PUTTING IT INTO HIS HANDS.]: I'm sorry, To see you still thus weak.

MOS [ASIDE.]: That he's not weaker.

VOLP: You are too munificent.

VOLT: No sir; would to heaven, I could as well give health to you, as that plate!

VOLP: You give, sir, what you can: I thank you. Your love Hath taste in this, and shall not be unanswer'd: I pray you see me often.

VOLT: Yes, I shall sir.

VOLP: Be not far from me.

MOS: Do you observe that, sir?

VOLP: Hearken unto me still; it will concern you.

MOS: You are a happy man, sir; know your good.

VOLP: I cannot now last long-

MOS: You are his heir, sir.

VOLT: Am I?

VOLP: I feel me going; Uh! uh! uh! uh!

I'm sailing to my port, Uh! uh! uh! uh!

And I am glad I am so near my haven.

MOS: Alas, kind gentleman! Well, we must all go-

VOLT: But, Mosca-

MOS: Age will conquer.

VOLT: 'Pray thee hear me: Am I inscribed his heir for certain?

MOS: Are you!

I do beseech you, sir, you will vouchsafe To write me in your family. All my hopes Depend upon your worship: I am lost, Except the rising sun do shine on me.

VOLT: It shall both shine, and warm thee, Mosca.

MOS: Sir, I am a man, that hath not done your love All the worst offices: here I wear your keys, See all your coffers and your caskets lock'd, Keep the poor inventory of your jewels, Your plate and monies; am your steward, sir.

Husband your goods here.

VOLT: But am I sole heir?

MOS: Without a partner, sir; confirm'd this morning: The wax is warm yet, and the ink scarce dry Upon the parchment.

VOLT: Happy, happy, me!

By what good chance, sweet Mosca?

MOS: Your desert, sir; I know no second cause.

VOLT: Thy modesty Is not to know it; well, we shall requite it.

MOS: He ever liked your course sir; that first took him.

I oft have heard him say, how he admired Men of your large profession, that could speak To every cause, and things mere contraries, Till they were hoa.r.s.e again, yet all be law; That, with most quick agility, could turn, And [re-] return; [could] make knots, and undo them; Give forked counsel; take provoking gold On either hand, and put it up: these men, He knew, would thrive with their humility.

And, for his part, he thought he should be blest To have his heir of such a suffering spirit, So wise, so grave, of so perplex'd a tongue, And loud withal, that would not wag, nor scarce Lie still, without a fee; when every word Your worship but lets fall, is a chequin!- [LOUD KNOCKING WITHOUT.]

Who's that? one knocks; I would not have you seen, sir.

And yet-pretend you came, and went in haste: I'll fashion an excuse.-and, gentle sir, When you do come to swim in golden lard, Up to the arms in honey, that your chin Is born up stiff, with fatness of the flood, Think on your va.s.sal; but remember me: I have not been your worst of clients.

VOLT: Mosca!-

MOS: When will you have your inventory brought, sir?

Or see a coppy of the will?-Anon!- I will bring them to you, sir. Away, be gone, Put business in your face.

[EXIT VOLTORE.]

VOLP [SPRINGING UP.]: Excellent Mosca!

Come hither, let me kiss thee.

MOS: Keep you still, sir.

Here is Corbaccio.

VOLP: Set the plate away: The vulture's gone, and the old raven's come!

MOS: Betake you to your silence, and your sleep: Stand there and multiply.

[PUTTING THE PLATE TO THE REST.]

Now, shall we see A wretch who is indeed more impotent Than this can feign to be; yet hopes to hop Over his grave.- [ENTER CORBACCIO.]

Signior Corbaccio!

You're very welcome, sir.

CORB: How does your patron?