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| Subtitle | Volpone, or The Fox; Epicene, or The Silent Woman; The Alchemist; Bartholomew Fair |
| Editor | Gordon Campbell |
| First Written | 1606 |
| Genre | Drama |
| Origin | UK |
| Publisher | Oxford Worlds Classics |
| ISBN-10 | 0199537313 |
| ISBN-13 | 978-0199537310 |
| My Copy | library paperback |
| First Read | January 20, 2012 |
The Alchemist and Other Plays
The scene where Volpone tries to seduce, and then force, Celia, is really a marvel, especially his litany of ways in which he will have her. It's a steady progression, with a great rhythm, moving from sweetness and flowers to classical allusions, then modern exotic women and straight on to prostitution. The sense of menace as his speech progresses is really striking, and builds a real sense of drama leading up to the attempted rape.
Noted on January 23, 2012
Although he's a part of the canon of English literature, I've never been exposed to Ben Jonson. I'd read so many references to him, I decided it was time to look him up. Jonson was an English playwright, a younger contemporary of Shakespeare, and this play, at least, reads like low-rent Shakes. It's bawdier, broader, and funny - but with some moments of clarity and great writing that make it obvious why he's so well-regarded.
Noted on January 23, 2012
2nd AVVOCATO: If this be held the highway to get riches,
May I be poor
3rd AVVOCATO: This 's not the gain, but torment.
1st AVVOCATO: These possess wealth, as sick men possess fevers,
Which truer may be said to possess them.
Quoted on January 23, 2012
Nano the dwarf espouses the modem idea that small things are cute:
First for your dwarf; he's little and witty,
And everything, as it is little, is pretty.
-- Volpone
Quoted on January 23, 2012
If thou hast wisdom, hear me, Celia.
Thy baths shall be the juice of July-flowers,
SPirit of roses, and of violets,
The milk of unicorns, and panther's breath
Gathered in bags, and mixed with Cretan wines.
Our drink shall be prepared gold and amber,
Which we will take, until my roof whirl round
With the vertigo: and my dwarf shall dance,
My eunuch sing, my fool make up the antic.
Whilst we, in changed shapes, act Ovid's tales,
Thou like Europa now, and I like Jove,
Then I like Mars, and thou like Erycine,
So of the rest, till we have quite run through
And wearied all the fables of the gods.
Then will I have thee in more modern forms,
Attired like some sprightly dame of France,
Brave Tuscan lady, or proud Spanish beauty;
Sometimes unto the Persian Sophy's wife,
Or the Grand Signor's mistress; and for change,
To one of our most artful courtesans,
Or some quick Negro, or cold Russian;
And I will meet thee in as many shapes:
Where we may so transfuse our wandering souls,
Out at our lips, and score up sums of pleasures.
-- Volpone
Quoted on January 23, 2012