Act I. Scene I.

VOLPONE, MOSCA.

Ood morning to the day; and, next, my gold:

Go

Open the shrine, that I may see my saint.

Haile the worlds foule, and mine. More glad

then is

The teeming earth, to fee the long'd-for funne
Peepe through the hornes of the celeftiall ram,
Am I, to view thy fplendor, darkening his:
That, lying here, amongst my other hoords,
Shew'ft like a flame, by night; or like the day
Strooke out of chaos, when all darknesse fled
Vnto the center. O, thou fonne of SOL,
(But brighter then thy father) let me kiffe,
With adoration, thee, and euery relique
Of facred treasure, in this bleffed roome.
Well did wife Poets, by thy glorious name,
Title that age, which they would haue the best;
Thou being the best of things: and far transcending
All ftile of ioy, in children, parents, friends,

Or any

other waking dreame on earth.

Thy lookes, when they to VENVS did ascribe,

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They should haue giu'n her twentie thousand CVPIDS; 20
Such are thy beauties, and our loues! Deare faint,
Riches, the dumbe god, that giu'ft all men tongues:

That canft doe nought, and yet mak'st men doe all

things;

The price of foules; euen hell, with thee to boot,

Act I.

MOSCA.] ACT I. SCENE I. A Room in VOLPONE'S House. Enter VOLPONE and Mosca. G 2 [MOSCA withdraws the curtain, and discovers piles of gold, plate, jewels, etc. G

B

5 Ram B 7 B om. first comma. 24 thee] the B

4 Sunne

Is made worth heauen! Thou art vertue, fame,

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Honour, and all things elfe! Who can get thee,

He shall be noble, valiant, honest, wise

Mos. And what he will, fir. Riches are in fortune

A greater good, then wifedome is in nature.

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VOL. True, my beloued MOSCA. Yet, I glory More in the cunning purchase of my wealth, Then in the glad poffeffion; fince I gaine No common way: I vse no trade, no venter; I wound no earth with plow-shares; fat no beasts To feede the shambles; haue no mills for yron, Oyle, corne, or men, to grinde 'hem into poulder; I blow no fubtill glaffe; expofe no ships To threatnings of the furrow-faced fea; I turne no moneys, in the publike banke; Nor vfure priuateMos. No, fir, nor deuoure 40 Soft prodigalls. You fhall ha' some will swallow A melting heire, as glibly, as your Dutch Will pills of butter, and ne're purge for't; Teare forth the fathers of poore families Out of their beds, and coffin them, aliue,

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In fome kind, clasping prison, where their bones
May be forth-comming, when the flesh is rotten:
But, your sweet nature doth abhorre these courses;
You lothe, the widdowes, or the orphans teares
Should wash your pauements; or their pittious cryes
Ring in your roofes; and beate the aire, for ven-
geance.-

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VOL. Right, MOSCA, I doe lothe it. Mos. And
befides, fir,

You are not like the thresher, that doth stand
With a huge flaile, watching a heape of corne,
And, hungrie, dares not taste the smallest graine,
But feeds on mallowes, and fuch bitter herbs;

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Nor like the merchant, who hath fill'd his vaults
With Romagnía, and rich Candian wines,
Yet drinkes the lees of Lombards vineger:

You will not lie in ftraw, whilft moths, and wormes
Feed on your fumptuous hangings, and foft beds.
You know the vse of riches, and dare giue, now,
From that bright heape, to me, your poore obferuer,
Or to your dwarfe, or your hermaphrodite,
Your eunuch, or what other houfhold-trifle
Your pleasure allowes maint'nance.

thee, MOSCA,

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VOL. Hold

[452]

Take, of my hand; thou ftrik'ft on truth, in all:
And they are enuious, terme thee parasite.
Call forth my dwarfe, my eunuch, and my foole,
And let 'hem make me sport. What should I doe,
But cocker vp my genius, and liue free

To all delights, my fortune calls me to?
I haue no wife, no parent, child, allie,

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To giue my substance to; but whom I make,

Must be my heire: and this makes men obferue me.
This drawes new clients, daily, to my house,
Women, and men, of euery sexe, and age,

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That bring me prefents, send me plate, coyne, iewels,
With hope, that when I die, (which they expect
Each greedy minute) it shall then returne,
Ten-fold, vpon them; whil'ft fome, couetous
Aboue the rest, seeke to engroffe me, whole,
And counter worke, the one, vnto the other,
Contend in gifts, as they would feeme, in loue:
All which I fuffer, playing with their hopes,
And am content to coyne 'hem into profit,
And looke vpon their kindneffe, and take more,
And looke on that; ftill bearing them in hand,

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Letting the cherry knock against their lips,

And, draw it, by their mouths, and back againe. How

now!

Act I. Scene II.

NANO, ANDROGYNO, CASTRONE,

VOLPONE, MOSCA.

Ow, roome, for fresh gamsters, who doe will you
to know,

N°

They doe bring you neither play, nor Vniuer-
fitie show;

And therefore doe intreat you, that whatsoeuer they
reherfe,

May not fare a whit the worse, for the false pase of the verse.

If you wonder at this, you will wonder more, ere we

paffe,

For know, here is inclos'd the Soule of PYTHAGORAS,
That iuggler diuine, as hereafter shall follow;

Which Soule (fast, and loose, fir) came first from
APOLLO,

And was breath'd into ÆETHALIDES, MERCVRIVS his
fonne,

Where it had the gift to remember all that euer was done.

From thence it fled forth, and made quick transmigration

To goldy-lockt EVPHORBVS, who was kill'd, in good fashion,

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At the fiege of old Troy, by the Cuckold of Sparta.
HERMOTIMVS was next (I find it, in my charta)
To whom it did paffe, where no fooner it was missing, 15
But with one PYRRHVS, of Delos, it learn'd to goe a

G

MOSCA.] Re-enter MOSCA with NANO, ANDROGYNO,

And thence, did it enter the Sophift of Greece.

From PYTHAGORE, shee went into a beautifull peece, Hight ASPASIA, the meretrix; and the next toffe of her Was, againe, of a whore, fhee became a Philofopher, 20 CRATES the Cynick: (as it felfe doth relate it)

Since, Kings, Knights, and Beggers, Knaues, Lords
and Fooles gat it,

Befides, oxe, and affe, cammell, mule, goat, and brock,
In all which it hath spoke, as in the Coblers cock.
But I come not here, to difcourfe of that matter,

Or his one, two, or three, or his great oath, by quater,
His muficks, his trigon, his golden thigh,

Or his telling how elements shift: but I

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Would aske, how of late, thou hast suffered translation,
And shifted thy coat, in thefe dayes of reformation? 30
AND. Like one of the reformed, a Foole, as you fee,
Counting all old doctrine herefie.

NAN. But not on thine owne forbid meates haft thou
venter'd?

AND. On fish, when first, a carthufian I enter'd. NAN. Why, then thy dogmaticall filence hath left thee?

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