1, 2 Avoc. Arise.

Cel. O heaven, how just thou art!

Volp. I am caught
In mine own noose—

Corv. [to Corbaccio.] Be constant, sir: nought now
Can help, but impudence.

1 Avoc. Speak forward.

Com. Silence!

Volt. It is not passion in me, reverend fathers,
But only conscience, conscience, my good sires,
That makes me now tell truth. That parasite,
That knave, hath been the instrument of all.

1 Avoc. Where is that knave? fetch him.

Volp. I go.

[Exit.

Corv. Grave fathers,
This man’s distracted; he confest it now:
For, hoping to be old Volpone’s heir,
Who now is dead—

3 Avoc. How!

2 Avoc. Is Volpone dead?

Corv. Dead since, grave fathers.

Bon. O sure vengeance!

1 Avoc. Stay,
Then he was no deceiver.

Volt. O no, none:
The parasite, grave fathers.

Corv. He does speak
Out of mere envy, ’cause the servant’s made
The thing he gaped for: please your fatherhoods,
This is the truth, though I’ll not justify
The other, but he may be some-deal faulty.

Volt. Ay, to your hopes, as well as mine, Corvino:
But I’ll use modesty. Pleaseth your wisdoms,
To view these certain notes, and but confer them;
As I hope favour, they shall speak clear truth.

Corv. The devil has enter’d him!

Bon. Or bides in you.

4 Avoc. We have done ill, by a public officer
To send for him, if he be heir.

2 Avoc. For whom?

4 Avoc. Him that they call the parasite.

3 Avoc. ’Tis true,
He is a man of great estate, now left.

4 Avoc. Go you, and learn his name, and say, the court
Entreats his presence here, but to the clearing
Of some few doubts. [Exit Notary.