Part 17 (1/2)

MOS: And hearing of the consultation had, So lately, for your health, is come to offer, Or rather, sir, to prost.i.tute-

CORV: Thanks, sweet Mosca.

MOS: Freely, unask'd, or unintreated-

CORV: Well.

MOS: As the true fervent instance of his love, His own most fair and proper wife; the beauty, Only of price in Venice-

CORV: 'Tis well urged.

MOS: To be your comfortress, and to preserve you.

VOLP: Alas, I am past, already! Pray you, thank him For his good care and promptness; but for that, 'Tis a vain labour e'en to fight 'gainst heaven; Applying fire to stone- [COUGHING.] uh, uh, uh, uh!

Making a dead leaf grow again. I take His wishes gently, though; and you may tell him, What I have done for him: marry, my state is hopeless.

Will him to pray for me; and to use his fortune With reverence, when he comes to't.

MOS: Do you hear, sir?

Go to him with your wife.

CORV: Heart of my father!

Wilt thou persist thus? come, I pray thee, come.

Thou seest 'tis nothing, Celia. By this hand, I shall grow violent. Come, do't, I say.

CEL: Sir, kill me, rather: I will take down poison, Eat burning coals, do any thing.-

CORV: Be d.a.m.n'd!

Heart, I'll drag thee hence, home, by the hair; Cry thee a strumpet through the streets; rip up Thy mouth unto thine ears; and slit thy nose, Like a raw rotchet!-Do not tempt me; come, Yield, I am loth-Death! I will buy some slave Whom I will kill, and bind thee to him, alive; And at my window hang you forth: devising Some monstrous crime, which I, in capital letters, Will eat into thy flesh with aquafortis, And burning corsives, on this stubborn breast.

Now, by the blood thou hast incensed, I'll do it!

CEL: Sir, what you please, you may, I am your martyr.

CORV: Be not thus obstinate, I have not deserved it: Think who it is intreats you. 'Prithee, sweet;- Good faith, thou shalt have jewels, gowns, attires, What thou wilt think, and ask. Do but go kiss him.

Or touch him, but, for my sake.-At my suit.- This once.-No! not! I shall remember this.

Will you disgrace me thus? Do you thirst my undoing?

MOS: Nay, gentle lady, be advised.

CORV: No, no.

She has watch'd her time. Ods precious, this is scurvy, 'Tis very scurvy: and you are-

MOS: Nay, good, sir.

CORV: An arrant Locust, by heaven, a locust!

Wh.o.r.e, crocodile, that hast thy tears prepared, Expecting how thou'lt bid them flow-

MOS: Nay, 'Pray you, sir!

She will consider.

CEL: Would my life would serve To satisfy-

CORV: S'death! if she would but speak to him, And save my reputation, it were somewhat; But spightfully to affect my utter ruin!

MOS: Ay, now you have put your fortune in her hands.

Why i'faith, it is her modesty, I must quit her.