VOLT: I thank you for him.
MOS: Bane to thy wolvish nature!
1 AVOC: Deliver him to the saffi.
[MOSCA IS CARRIED OUT.]
--Thou, Volpone,
By blood and rank a gentleman, canst not fall
Under like censure; but our judgment on thee
Is, that thy substance all be straight confiscate
To the hospital of the Incurabili:
And, since the most was gotten by imposture,
By feigning lame, gout, palsy, and such diseases,
Thou art to lie in prison, cramp'd with irons,
Till thou be'st sick, and lame indeed.--Remove him.
[HE IS TAKEN FROM THE BAR.]
VOLP: This is call'd mortifying of a Fox.
1 AVOC: Thou, Voltore, to take away the scandal
Thou hast given all worthy men of thy profession,
Art banish'd from their fellowship, and our state.
Corbaccio!--bring him near--We here possess
Thy son of all thy state, and confine thee
To the monastery of San Spirito;
Where, since thou knewest not how to live well here,
Thou shalt be learn'd to die well.
CORB: Ah! what said he?
AND: You shall know anon, sir.
1 AVOC: Thou, Corvino, shalt
Be straight embark'd from thine own house, and row'd
Round about Venice, through the grand canale,
Wearing a cap, with fair long asses' ears,
Instead of horns; and so to mount, a paper
Pinn'd on thy breast, to the Berlina--
CORV: Yes,
And have mine eyes beat out with stinking fish,
Bruised fruit and rotten eggs--'Tis well.
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