the rising sun do shine on me.
VOLTORE : It shall both shine and warm thee, Mosca.
MOSCA :Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Sir,
I am a man that have not done your love
40Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â All the worst offices. Here I wear your keys,
See all your coffers and your caskets locked,
Keep the poor inventory of your jewels,
Your plate, and moneys; am your steward, sir,
Husband your goods here.
VOLTORE :Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â But am I sole heir?
MOSCA : Without a partner, sir, confirmed this morning;
The wax is warm yet, and the ink scarce dry
Upon the parchment.
VOLTORE :Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Happy, happy me!
By what good chance, sweet Mosca?
MOSCA :Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Your desert, sir;
I know no second cause.
VOLTORE :Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Thy modesty
50Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Is loath to know it; well, we shall requite it.
MOSCA : 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 hoarse again, yet all be law;
That, with most quick agility, could turn,
And re-turn; make knots, and undo them;
Give forkèd counsel; take provoking gold
On either hand, and put it up. These men,
60Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â He knew, would thrive with their humility.
And, for his part, he thought he should be blessed
To have his heir of such a suffering spirit,
So wise, so grave, of so perplexed 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!
Another knocks
.
Whoâs that? One knocks. I would not have you seen, sir.
And yet â pretend you came and went in haste;
Iâll fashion an excuse. And, gentle sir,
70Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â When you do come to swim in golden lard,
Up to the arms in honey, that your chin
Is borne up stiff with fatness of the flood,
Think on your vassal; but remember me:
I haânot been your worst of clients.
VOLTORE :Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Mosca â
MOSCA : When will you have your inventory brought, sir?
Or see a copy of the will? â Anon. â
Iâll bring âem to you, sir. Away, be gone,
Put business iâyour face.
[
Exit
VOLTORE .]
VOLPONE :Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Excellent, Mosca!
Come hither, let me kiss thee.
MOSCA :Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Keep you still, sir.
Here is Corbaccio.
80Â Â Â Â VOLPONE :Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Set the plate away.
The vultureâs gone, and the old ravenâs come.
I,iv  [ MOSCA :] Betake you to your silence, and your sleep. â
Stand there and multiply. â 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