That the curious shall not know How to tell them as they flow; And the envious, when they find What there number is, be pined.

CEL: If you have ears that will be pierc'd-or eyes That can be open'd-a heart that may be touch'd- Or any part that yet sounds man about you- If you have touch of holy saints-or heaven- Do me the grace to let me 'scape-if not, Be bountiful and kill me. You do know, I am a creature, hither ill betray'd, By one, whose shame I would forget it were: If you will deign me neither of these graces, Yet feed your wrath, sir, rather than your l.u.s.t, (It is a vice comes nearer manliness,) And punish that unhappy crime of nature, Which you miscall my beauty; flay my face, Or poison it with ointments, for seducing Your blood to this rebellion. Rub these hands, With what may cause an eating leprosy, E'en to my bones and marrow: any thing, That may disfavour me, save in my honour- And I will kneel to you, pray for you, pay down A thousand hourly vows, sir, for your health; Report, and think you virtuous-

VOLP: Think me cold, Frosen and impotent, and so report me?

That I had Nestor's hernia, thou wouldst think.

I do degenerate, and abuse my nation, To play with opportunity thus long; I should have done the act, and then have parley'd.

Yield, or I'll force thee.

[SEIZES HER.]

CEL: O! just G.o.d!

VOLP: In vain-

BON [RUSHING IN]: Forbear, foul ravisher, libidinous swine!

Free the forced lady, or thou diest, impostor.

But that I'm loth to s.n.a.t.c.h thy punishment Out of the hand of justice, thou shouldst, yet, Be made the timely sacrifice of vengeance, Before this altar, and this dross, thy idol.- 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.

[EXEUNT BON. AND CEL.]

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-

[ENTER MOSCA, WOUNDED AND BLEEDING.]

MOS: Where shall I run, most wretched shame of men, 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 lived to see My life, my hopes, my spirits, my patron, all 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 harken'd, so?

VOLP: What shall we do?

MOS: I know not; if my heart Could expiate the mischance, I'd pluck it out.

Will you be pleased to hang me? or cut my throat?

And I'll requite you, sir. Let us die like Romans, Since we have lived like Grecians.

[KNOCKING WITHIN.]

VOLP: Hark! who's there?

I hear some footing; officers, the saffi, Come to apprehend us! I do feel the brand Hissing already at my forehead; now, Mine ears are boring.

MOS: To your couch, sir, you, Make that place good, however.

[VOLPONE LIES DOWN, AS BEFORE.]

-Guilty men Suspect what they deserve still.

[ENTER CORBACCIO.]

Signior Corbaccio!

CORB: Why, how now, Mosca?

MOS: O, undone, amazed, sir.

Your son, I know not by what accident, Acquainted with your purpose to my patron, Touching your Will, and making him your heir, Enter'd our house with violence, his sword drawn Sought for you, call'd you wretch, unnatural, Vow'd he would kill you.

CORB: Me!

MOS: Yes, and my patron.

CORB: This act shall disinherit him indeed; Here is the Will.

MOS: 'Tis well, sir.

CORB: Right and well: Be you as careful now for me.

[ENTER VOLTORE, BEHIND.]

MOS: My life, sir, 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.

CORB: To-day?

MOS: No, last out May, sir.

CORB: Could'st thou not give him a dram?

MOS: O, by no means, sir.

CORB: Nay, I'll not bid you.

VOLT [COMING FORWARD.]: This is a knave, I see.

MOS [SEEING VOLTORE.]: How! signior Voltore!

[ASIDE.] did he hear me?

VOLT: Parasite!