MOSCA. [_Enter_] VOLTORE.
_Volt._ How now, my Mosca?
_Mos._ [_writing_]. “Turkey carpets, nine——”
_Volt._ Taking an inventory! that is well.
_Mos._ “Two suits of bedding, tissue——”
_Volt._ Where ’s the will?
Let me read that the while.
[_Enter_ Servants _with_ CORBACCIO _in a chair._]
_Corb._ So, set me down,
And get you home. [_Exeunt_ Servants.] 5
_Volt._ Is he come now, to trouble us?
_Mos._ “Of cloth of gold, two more——”
_Corb._ Is it done, Mosca?
_Mos._ “Of several velvets, eight——”
_Volt._ I like his care.
_Corb._ Dost thou not hear?
[_Enter_ CORVINO.]
_Corv._ Ha! is the hour come, Mosca?
_Volp._ Ay, now they muster.
_Peeps from behind a traverse._
_Corv._ What does the advocate here, 10
Or this Corbaccio?
_Corb._ What do these here?
[_Enter_ LADY POL. WOULD-BE.]
_Lady P._ Mosca!
Is his thread spun?
_Mos._ “Eight chests of linen——”
_Volp._ O,
My fine Dame Would-be, too!
_Corv._ Mosca, the will,
That I may show it these, and rid ’em hence.
_Mos._ “Six chests of diaper, four of damask.”—There. 15
[_Gives them the will carelessly, over his shoulder._]
_Corb._ Is that the will?
_Mos._ “Down-beds, and bolsters——”
_Volp._ Rare!
Be busy still. Now they begin to flutter:
They never think of me. Look, see, see, see!
How their swift eyes run over the long deed,
Unto the name, and to the legacies, 20
What is bequeath’d them there——
_Mos._ “Ten suits of hangings——”
_Volp._ Ay, in their garters, Mosca. Now their hopes
Are at the gasp.
_Volt._ Mosca the heir.
_Corb._ What ’s that?
_Volp._ My advocate is dumb; look to my merchant,
He ’s heard of some strange storm, a ship is lost, 25
He faints; my lady will swoon. Old glazen-eyes,
He hath not reach’d his despair yet.
_Corb._ All these
Are out of hope; I am, sure, the man.
[_Takes the will._]
_Corv._ But, Mosca——
_Mos._ “Two cabinets——”
_Corv._ Is this in earnest?
_Mos._ “One
Of ebony——”
_Corv._ Or do you but delude me? 30
_Mos._ “The other, mother of pearl.”—I ’m very busy,
Good faith, it is a fortune thrown upon me—
“Item, one salt of agate”—not my seeking.
_Lady P._ Do you hear, sir?
_Mos._ “A perfum’d box”—Pray you forbear,
You see I ’m troubl’d—“made of an onyx——”
_Lady P._ How! 35
_Mos._ To-morrow or next day, I shall be at leisure
To talk with you all.
_Corv._ Is this my large hope’s issue?
_Lady P._ Sir, I must have a fairer answer.
_Mos._ Madam!
Marry, and shall: pray you, fairly quit my house.
Nay, raise no tempest with your looks; but hark you, 40
Remember what your ladyship off’red me
To put you in an heir; go to, think on it:
And what you said e’en your best madams did
For maintenance; and why not you? Enough.
Go home, and use the poor Sir Pol, your knight, well, 45
For fear I tell some riddles; go, be melancholic.
[_Exit_ LADY WOULD-BE.]
_Volp._ O, my fine devil!
_Corv._ Mosca, pray you a word.
_Mos._ Lord! will not you take your dispatch hence yet?
Methinks, of all, you should have been th’ example.
Why should you stay here? With what thought, what promise? 50
Hear you; do you not know, I know you an ass,
And that you would most fain have been a wittol
If fortune would have let you? that you are
A declar’d cuckold, on good terms? This pearl,
You ’ll say, was yours? right: this diamond? 55
I ’ll not deny ’t, but thank you. Much here else?
It may be so. Why, think that these good works
May help to hide your bad. I ’ll not betray you;
Although you be but extraordinary,
And have it only in title, it sufficeth: 60
Go home, be melancholy too, or mad.
[_Exit_ CORVINO.]
_Volp._ Rare Mosca! how his villany becomes him!
_Volt._ Certain he doth delude all these for me.
_Corb._ Mosca the heir!
_Volp._ O, his four eyes have found it.
_Corb._ I am cozen’d, cheated, by a parasite-slave; 65
Harlot,[1719] th’ hast gull’d me.
_Mos._ Yes, sir. Stop your mouth,
Or I shall draw the only tooth is left.
Are not you he, that filthy covetous wretch,
With the three legs, that here, in hope of prey,
Have, any time this three years, snuff’d about,
With your most grov’ling nose, and would have hir’d 71
Me to the pois’ning of my patron, sir?
Are not you he that have to-day in court
Profess’d the disinheriting of your son?
Perjur’d yourself? Go home, and die, and stink; 75
If you but croak a syllable, all comes out:
Away, and call your porters! [_Exit_ CORBACCIO.]
Go, go, stink.
_Volp._ Excellent varlet!
_Volt._ Now, my faithful Mosca,
I find thy constancy——
_Mos._ Sir!
_Volt._ Sincere.
_Mos._ [_writing._] “A table
Of porphyry”—I marle[1720] you ’ll be thus troublesome. 80
_Volt._ Nay, leave off now, they are gone.
_Mos._ Why, who are you?
What! who did send for you? O, cry you mercy,
Reverend sir! Good faith, I am griev’d for you,
That any chance of mine should thus defeat
Your (I must needs say) most deserving travails: 85
But I protest, sir, it was cast upon me,
And I could almost wish to be without it,
But that the will o’ the dead must be observ’d.
Marry, my joy is that you need it not;
You have a gift, sir (thank your education), 90
Will never let you want, while there are men,
And malice, to breed causes.[1721] Would I had
But half the like, for all my fortune, sir!
If I have any suits, as I do hope,
Things being so easy and direct, I shall not, 95
I will make bold with your obstreperous aid,
Conceive me—for your fee, sir. In mean time,
You that have so much law, I know ha’ the conscience
Not to be covetous of what is mine.
Good sir, I thank you for my plate; ’t will help 100
To set up a young man. Good faith, you look
As you were costive; best go home and purge, sir. [_Exit_ VOLTORE.]
_Volp._ [_comes from behind the curtain._] Bid him eat lettuce[1722]
well. My witty mischief,
Let me embrace thee. O that I could now
Transform thee to a Venus!—Mosca, go, 105
Straight take my habit of clarissimo,
And walk the streets; be seen, torment ’em more:
We must pursue, as well as plot. Who would
Have lost this feast?
_Mos._ I doubt it will lose them.
_Volp._ O, my recovery shall recover all. 110
That I could now but think on some disguise
To meet ’em in, and ask ’em questions:
How I would vex ’em still at every turn!
_Mos._ Sir, I can fit you.
_Volp._ Canst thou?
_Mos._ Yes, I know
One o’ the commandadori, sir, so like you; 115
Him will I straight make drunk, and bring you his habit.
_Volp._ A rare disguise, and answering thy brain!
O, I will be a sharp disease unto ’em.
_Mos._ Sir, you must look for curses——
_Volp._ Till they burst;
The Fox fares ever best when he is curst. 120
[_Exeunt._]