MOS: Who"s that?-O, sir, most timely welcome-
VOLT: Scarce, To the discovery of your tricks, I fear.
You are his, ONLY? and mine, also? are you not?
MOS: Who? I, sir?
VOLT: You, sir. What device is this About a Will?
MOS: A plot for you, sir.
VOLT: Come, Put not your foists upon me; I shall scent them.
MOS: Did you not hear it?
VOLT: Yes, I hear Corbaccio Hath made your patron there his heir.
MOS: "Tis true, By my device, drawn to it by my plot, With hope-
VOLT: Your patron should reciprocate?
And you have promised?
MOS: For your good, I did, sir.
Nay, more, I told his son, brought, hid him here, Where he might hear his father pa.s.s the deed: Being persuaded to it by this thought, sir, That the unnaturalness, first, of the act, And then his father"s oft disclaiming in him, (Which I did mean t"help on,) would sure enrage him To do some violence upon his parent, On which the law should take sufficient hold, And you be stated in a double hope: Truth be my comfort, and my conscience, My only aim was to dig you a fortune Out of these two old rotten sepulchres-
VOLT: I cry thee mercy, Mosca.
MOS: Worth your patience, And your great merit, sir. And see the change!
VOLT: Why, what success?
MOS: Most happless! you must help, sir.
Whilst we expected the old raven, in comes Corvino"s wife, sent hither by her husband-
VOLT: What, with a present?
MOS: No, sir, on visitation; (I"ll tell you how anon;) and staying long, The youth he grows impatient, rushes forth, Seizeth the lady, wounds me, makes her swear (Or he would murder her, that was his vow) To affirm my patron to have done her rape: Which how unlike it is, you see! and hence, With that pretext he"s gone, to accuse his father, Defame my patron, defeat you-
VOLT: Where is her husband?
Let him be sent for straight.
MOS: Sir, I"ll go fetch him.
VOLT: Bring him to the Scrutineo.
MOS: Sir, I will.
VOLT: This must be stopt.
MOS: O you do n.o.bly, sir.
Alas, "twas labor"d all, sir, for your good; Nor was there want of counsel in the plot: But fortune can, at any time, o"erthrow The projects of a hundred learned clerks, sir.
CORB [LISTENING]: What"s that?
VOLT: Will"t please you, sir, to go along?
[EXIT CORBACCIO, FOLLOWED BY VOLTORE.]
MOS: Patron, go in, and pray for our success.
VOLP [RISING FROM HIS COUCH.]: Need makes devotion: heaven your labour bless!
[EXEUNT.]
ACT 4. SCENE 4.1.
A STREET.
[ENTER SIR POLITICK WOULD-BE AND PEREGRINE.]
SIR P: I told you, sir, it was a plot: you see What observation is! You mention"d me, For some instructions: I will tell you, sir, (Since we are met here in this height of Venice,) Some few perticulars I have set down, Only for this meridian, fit to be known Of your crude traveller, and they are these.
I will not touch, sir, at your phrase, or clothes, For they are old.
PER: Sir, I have better.
SIR P: Pardon, I meant, as they are themes.
PER: O, sir, proceed: I"ll slander you no more of wit, good sir.
SIR P: First, for your garb, it must be grave and serious, Very reserv"d, and lock"d; not tell a secret On any terms, not to your father; scarce A fable, but with caution; make sure choice Both of your company, and discourse; beware You never speak a truth-
PER: How!
SIR P: Not to strangers, For those be they you must converse with, most; Others I would not know, sir, but at distance, So as I still might be a saver in them: You shall have tricks else past upon you hourly.
And then, for your religion, profess none, But wonder at the diversity, of all: And, for your part, protest, were there no other But simply the laws o" the land, you could content you, Nic. Machiavel, and Monsieur Bodin, both Were of this mind. Then must you learn the use And handling of your silver fork at meals; The metal of your gla.s.s; (these are main matters With your Italian;) and to know the hour When you must eat your melons, and your figs.
PER: Is that a point of state too?
SIR P: Here it is, For your Venetian, if he see a man Preposterous in the least, he has him straight; He has; he strips him. I"ll acquaint you, sir, I now have lived here, "tis some fourteen months Within the first week of my landing here, All took me for a citizen of Venice: I knew the forms, so well-
PER [ASIDE.]: And nothing else.
SIR P: I had read Contarene, took me a house, Dealt with my Jews to furnish it with moveables- Well, if I could but find one man, one man To mine own heart, whom I durst trust, I would-
PER: What, what, sir?
SIR P: Make him rich; make him a fortune: He should not think again. I would command it.