Argument
¶THE sickness hot, 1 a master quit, for fear,His house in town, and left one servant there;E ase him corrupted, and gave means to know
¶A Cheater and his punk; 2 who now brought low,L eaving their narrow practice, were becomeC oz'ners 3 at large; and only wanting someH ouse to set up, with him they here contract,E ach for a share, and all begin to act.M uch company they draw, and much abuse, 4In casting figures, 5 telling fortunes, news,S elling of flies, 6 flat bawdry, with the stone, 7T ill it, and they, and all in fume 8 are gone.
¶1 The plague raging. 2 Mistress. 3 Swindlers. 4 Deceive.5 Calculating the f'lture. 6 Familiar spirits. 7 Philosopher's stone. 8 Smoke.
Prologue
¶FORTUNE, that favours fools, these two short hoursWe wish away, both for your sakes and ours,Judging spectators; and desire, in place,To th' author justice, to ourselves but grace.Our scene is London, 'cause we would make known,No country's mirth is better than our own:No clime breeds better matter for your whore,Bawd, squire, impostor, many persons more,Whose manners, now call'd humours, feed the stage;And which have still been subject for the rageOr spleen of comic writers. Though this penDid never aim to grieve, but better men;Howe'er the age he lives in doth endureThe vices that she breeds, above their cure.But when the wholesome remedies are sweet,And in their working gain and profit meet,He hopes to find no spirit so much diseas'd,But will with such fair correctives be pleas'd:For here he doth not fear who can apply.If there be any that will sit so nighUnto the stream, to look what it doth run,They shall find things, they'd think or wish were done:They are so natural follies, but so shown,As even the doers may see, and yet not own.
The AlchemistDramatis PersonsSUBTLE, the ALCHEMIST. PERTINAX SURLY, a Gamester.
¶FACE, the House-keeper. TRIBULATION WHOLESOME, a Pastor ofDOL COMMON, their colleague. Amsterdam.DAPPER, a Lawyer's clerk. ANANIAS, a Deacon there.DRUCGER, a Tobacco-man. KASTRILL, the angry boy.LOVEWIT, Master of the House. Dame PLIANT, his sister, a Widow.Sir EPICURE MAMMON, a Knight. Neighbours.Officers, Mutes.
Scene London\ Act I
¶SCENE I. [A room in Lovewit's house][Enter] FACE, [in a captain's uniform, with his sword drawn, and]SUBTLH [with a vial, quarrelling, and followed by] DOL COMMONFaceELIEVE't, I will., Sub. BThy worst.
¶Dol. Have you your wits? why, gentlemen! for love— !—Face. Sirrah, I'll strip youSub. What to do?Face. Rogue, rogue!—out of all your sleights.1Dol. Nay, look ye, sovereign, general, are you madmen?Sub. O, let the wild sheep loose. I'll gum your silksWith good strong water, an you come.Dol. Will you haveThe neighbours hear you? Will you betray all?Hark! I hear somebody.Face. SirrahSub. I shall marAll that the tailor has made if you approach.[544]Face. You most notorious whelp, you insolent slave,Dare you do this?Sub. Yes, faith; yes, faith.Face. Why, whoAm I, my mongrel, who am I?Sub. I'll tell you,Since you know not yourself.Face. Speak lower, rogue.Sub. Yes, you were once (time's not long past) the good,Honest, plain, livery-three-pound-thrum, 2 that keptYour master's worship's house here in the Friars, 3For the vacationsFace. Will you be so loud?Sub. Since, by my means, translated suburb-captain.Face. By your means, doctor dog!Sub. Within man's memory,All this I speak of.Face. Why, I pray you, have IBeen countenanc'd by you, or you by me?Do but collect, sir, where I met you first.Sub. I do not hear well.Face. Not of this, I think it.But I shall put you in mind, sir;—at Pie-corner,Taking your meal of steam in, from cooks' stalls,Where, like the father of hunger, you did walkPiteously costive, with your pinch'd-horn-nose,And your complexion of the Roman wash/Stuck full of black and melancholic worms,Like powder-corns 5 shot at the artillery-yard.Sub. I wish you could advance your voice a little.Face. When you went pinn'd up in the several ragsYou had rak'd and pick'd from dunghills, before day;Your feet in mouldy slippers, for your kibes; 6A felt of rug, 7 and a thin threaden cloak,That scarce would cover your no-buttocks[545]. Sub. So, sir!Face. When all your alchemy, and your algebra,Your minerals, vegetals, and animals,Your conjuring, coz'ning; 8 and your dozen of trades,Could not relieve your corpse with so much linenWould make you tinder, but to see a fire;I ga' you count'nance, credit for your coals,Your stills, your glasses, your materials;Built you a furnace, drew you customers,Advanc'd all your black arts; lent you, beside,A house to practise inSub. Your master's house!Face. Where you have studied the more thriving skillOf bawdry since.Sub. Yes, in your master's house.You and the rats here kept possession.Make it not strange. 9 I know you were one could keepThe buttery-hatch still lock'd, and save the chippings,Sell the dole beer to aqua-vitse men, 10The which, together with your Christmas vails 11At post-and-pair, 12 your letting out of counters, 13Made you a pretty stock, some twenty marks,And gave you credit to converse with cobwebs,Here, since your mistress' death hath broke up house.Face. You might talk softlier, rascal.Sub. No, you scarab,I'll thunder you in pieces: I will teach youHow to beware to tempt a Fury againThat carries tempest in his hand and voice.Face. The place has made you valiant.Sub. No, your clothes.Thou vermin, have I ta'en thee out of dung,So poor, so wretched, when no living thingWould keep thee company, but a spider or worse?Rais'd thee from brooms, and dust, and wat'ring-pots,[546]Sublim'd thee, and exalted thee, and fix'd theeIn the third region, 14 call'd our state of grace ?Wrought thee to spirit, to quintessence, with painsWould twice have won me the philosopher's work?Put thee in words and fashion, made thee fitFor more than ordinary fellowships?Giv'n thee thy oaths, thy quarrelling dimensions,Thy rules to cheat, at horse-race, cock-pit, cards,Dice, or whatever gallant tincture 15 else?Made thee a second in mine own great art?And have I this for thanks! Do you rebel?Do you fly out i' the projection? 16Would you be gone now?Dol. Gentlemen, what mean you?Will you mar all?Sub. Slave, thou hadst had no nameDol. Will you undo yourselves with civil war?Sub. Never been known, past equi clibanum,The heat of horse-dung, under ground, in cellars,Or an ale-house darker than deaf John's; been lostTo all mankind, but laundresses and tapsters,Had not I been.Dol. Do you know who hears you, sovereign?Face. SirrahDol. Nay, general, I thought you were civil.Face. I shall turn desperate, if you grow thus loud.Sub. And hang thyself, I care not.Face. Hang thee, collier,And all thy pots and pans, in picture, I will,Since thou hast mov'd meDol. [Aside] O, this'll o'erthrow all.Face. Write thee up bawd in Paul's, have all thy tricksOf coz'ning with a hollow coal, dust, scrapings,Searching for things lost, with a sieve and shears,Erecting figures in your rows of houses, 17[547]And taking in of shadows with a glass,Told in red letters; and a face cut for thee,Worse than Gamaliel Ratsey's. 18Dol. Are you sound?Ha' you your senses, masters?Face. I will haveA book, but barely reckoning thy impostures,Shall prove a true philosopher's stone to printers.Sub. Away, you trencher-rascal!Face. Out, you dog-leech!The vomit of all prisonsDol. Will you beYour own destructions, gentlemen?Face. Still spew'd outFor lying too heavy on the basket. 19Sub. Cheater!Face. Bawd!Sub. Cow-herd!Face. Conjurer!Sub. Cutpurse!Face. Witch!Dol. O me!We are ruin'd, lost! Ha' you no more regardTo your reputations? Where's your judgment? 'Slight,Have yet some care of me, o' your republicFace. Away, this brach! 20 I'll bring thee, rogue, withinThe statute of sorcery, tricesimo tertioOf Harry the Eighth : 2 1 ay, and perhaps thy neckWithin a noose, for laund'ring gold and barbing it. 22Dol. You'll bring your head within a cockscomb, 23 will you ?She catcheth out FACE his sword, and breaksSUBTLE'S glass.And you, sir, with your menstrue! 24—Gather it up.[548]'Sdeath, you abominable pair of stinkards,Leave off your barking, and grow one again,Or, by the light that shines, I'll cut your throats.I'll not be made a prey unto the marshalFor ne'er a snarling dog-bolt of you both.Ha' you together cozen'd all this while,And all the world, and shall it now be said,You've made most courteous shift to cozen yourselves?[To FACE.] YOU will accuse him! You will "bring him inWithin the statute!" Who shall take your word?A whoreson, upstart, apocryphal captain,Whom not a Puritan in Blackfriars will trustSo much as for a feather: and you, too, [to SUBTLE.]Will give the cause, forsooth! You will insult,And claim a primacy in the divisions!You must be chief! As if you only hadThe powder to project 25 with, and the workWere not begun out of equality!The venture tripartite! All things in common!Without priority! 'Sdeath! you perpetual curs,Fall to your couples again, and cozen kindly,And heartily, and lovingly, as you should,And lose not the beginning of a term,Or, by this hand, I shall grow factious too,And take my part, and quit you.Face. 'Tis his fault;He ever murmurs, and objects his pains,And says, the weight of all lies upon him.Sub. Why, so it does.Dol. How does it? Do not weSustain our parts?Sub. Yes, but they are not equal.Dol. Why, if your part exceed to-day, I hopeOurs may to-morrow match it.Sub. Ay, they may.Dol. May, murmuring mastiff! Ay, and do. Death on me!Help me to throttle him. [Seizes SUB. by the throat.][549]Sub. Dorothy! Mistress Dorothy!'Ods precious, I'll do anything. What do you mean ?Dol. Because o'your fermentation and cibation? 26Sub. Not I, by heavenDol. Your Sol and Luna help me.
[To FACE.]
¶Sub. Would I were hang'd then! I'll conform myself.Dol. Will you, sir? Do so then, and quickly: swear.Sub. What should I swear?Dol. To leave your faction, sir,And labour kindly in the common work.Sub. Let me not breathe if I meant aught beside.I only us'd those speeches as a spurTo him.Dol. I hope we need no spurs, sir. Do we?Face. 'Slid, prove to-day who shall shark best.Sub. Agreed.Dol. Yes, and work close and friendly.Sub. 'Slight, the knotShall grow the stronger for this breach, with me.[They shake hands.]Dol. Why, so, my good baboons! Shall we go makeA sort of sober, scurvy, precise neighbours,That scarce have smil'd twice sin' the king came in, 2 7A feast of laughter at our follies? Rascals,Would run themselves from breath, to see me ride,Or you t' have but a hole to thrust your heads in, 28For which you should pay ear-rent? 29 No, agree.And may Don Provost ride a feasting long,In his old velvet jerkin and stain'd scarfs,My noble sovereign, and worthy general,Ere we contribute a new crewel 30 garterTo his most worsted 30 worship.Sub. Royal Dol!Spoken like Claridiana, 31 and thyself.Face. For which at supper, thou shalt sit in triumph,[550]And not be styl'd Dol Common, but Dol Proper,Dol Singular: the longest cut at night,Shall draw thee for his Dol Particular. [Bell rings without.]Sub. Who's that? One rings. To the window, Dol: [Exit DOL.]—pray heav'n,The master do not trouble us this quarter.Face. O, fear not him. While there dies one a weekO' the plague, he's safe from thinking toward London.Beside, he's busy at his hop-yards now;I had a letter from him. If he do,He'll send such word, for airing o' the house,As you shall have sufficient time to quit it:Though we break up a fortnight, 'tis no matter.
p. 550¶Re-enter DOLSub. Who is it, Dol?Dol. A fine young quodling. 32Face.My lawyer's clerk, I lighted on last night,In Holborn, at the Dagger. He would have(I told you of him) a familiar,To rifle with at horses, and win cups.Dol. O, let him in.Sub. Stay. Who shall do't?Face. Get youYour robes on; I will meet him, as going out.Dol. And what shall I do?Face. Not be seen; away! [Exit DOL.]Seem you very reserv'd.Sub. Enough. [Ex/*.]Face, [aloud and retiring.] God be wi' you, sir,I pray you let him know that I was here:His name is Dapper. I would gladly have staid, but[551]SCENE II. [The same] 1
¶[Enter DAPPER]Good faith, sir, I was going away.Dap. In truthI am very sorry, captain.Face. But I thoughtSure I should meet you.Dap. Ay, I am very glad.I had a scurvy writ or two to make,And I had lent my watch last night to oneThat dines to-day at the sheriff's, and so was robb'dOf my pass-time. 2
¶[Re-enter SUBTLE in his velvet cap and gown]Is this the cunning-man?Face. This is his worship.Dap. Is he a doctor?Face. Yes.Dap. And ha' you broke 3 with him, captain?Face. Ay.Dap. And how?Face. Faith, he does make the matter, sir, so dainty, 4I know not what to say.Dap. Not so, good captain.Face. Would I were fairly rid on't, believe me.Dap. Nay, now you grieve me, sir. Why should you wish so?I dare assure you, I'll not be ungrateful.[552]Face. I cannot think you will, sir. But the lawIs such a thing and then he says, Read's 5 matterFalling so lately.Dap. Read! he was an ass,And dealt, sir, with a fool.Face. It was a clerk, sir.Dap. A clerk!Face. Nay, hear me, sir. You know the lawBetter, I thinkDap. I should, sir, and the danger:You know, I show'd the statute to you.Face. You did so.Dap. And will I tell then! By this hand of flesh,Would it might never write good courthand more,If I discover. 6 What do you think of me,That I am a chiaus? 7Face. What's that ?Dap. The Turk was, here—As one would say, do you think I am a Turk ?Face. I'll tell the doctor so.Dap. Do, good sweet captain.Face. Come, noble doctor, pray thee let's prevail;This is the gentleman, and he is no chiaus.Sub. Captain, I have return'd you all my answer.I would do much, sir, for your love But thisI neither may, nor can.Face. Tut, do not say so.You deal now with a noble fellow, doctor,One that will thank you richly; and he is no chiaus:Let that, sir, move you.Sub. Pray you, forbearFace. He hasFour angels here.Sub. You do me wrong, good sir.Face. Doctor, wherein? To tempt you with these spirits?
p. 552¶s A magician recently convicted. 6 Reveal.
p. 553¶Sub. To tempt my art and love, sir, to my peril.Tore heav'n, I scarce can think you are my friend,That so would draw me to apparent danger.Face. I draw you! A horse draw you, and a halter,You, and your flies 8 togetherDap. Nay, good captain.Face. That know no difference of men.Sub. Good words, sir.Face. Good deeds, sir, doctor dogs'-meat. 'Slight, I bring youNo cheating Clim o' the Cloughs 9 or Claribels, 10That look as big as five-and-fifty, and flush; 11And spit out secrets like hot custardDap. Captain!Face. Nor any melancholic underscribe,Shall tell the vicar; but a special gentle,That is the heir to forty marks a year,Consorts with the small poets of the time,Is the sole hope of his old grandmother;That knows the law, and writes you six fair hands,Is a fine clerk, and has his ciph'ring perfect.Will take his oath o' the Greek Xenophon, 12If need be, in his pocket; and can courtHis mistress out of Ovid.Dap. Nay, dear captainFace. Did you not tell me so?Dap. Yes; but I'd ha' youUse master doctor with some more respect.Face. Hang him, proud stag, with his broad velvet head!—But for your sake, I'd choke ere I would changeAn article of breath with such a puck-fist! 13Come, let's be gone. [Going.]Sub. Pray you le' me speak with you.[554]Dap. His worship calls you, captain.Face. I am sorryI e'er embark'd myself in such a business.Dap. Nay, good sir; he did call you.Face. Will he take then?Sub. First, hear meFace. Not a syllable, 'less you take.Sub. Pray ye, sirFace. Upon no terms but an assumpsit}*Sub. Your humour must be law. He takes the money.Face. Why now, sir, talk.Now I dare hear you with mine honour. Speak.So may this gentleman too.Sub. Why, sir [Offering to whisper FACE.]Face. No whispering.Sub. 'Fore heav'n, you do not apprehend the lossYou do yourself in this.Face. Wherein? for what?Sub. Marry, to be so importunate for oneThat, when he has it, will undo you all:He'll win up all the money i' the town.Face. How?Sub. Yes, and blow up gamester after gamester,As they do crackers in a puppet-play.If I do give him a familiar,Give you him all you play for; never set 15 him:For he will have it.Face. You're mistaken, doctor.Why, he does ask one but for cups and horses,A rifling 16 fly; none o' your great familiars.Dap. Yes, captain, I would have it for all games.Sub. I told you so.Face, [taking DAP. aside.] 'Slight, that is a new business!I understood you, a tame bird, to flyTwice in a term, or so, on Friday nights,[555]When you had left the office; for a nagOf forty or fifty shillings.Dap. Ay, 'tis true, sir;But I do think, now, I shall leave the law,And thereforeFace. Why, this changes quite the case.Do you think that I dare move him?Dap. If you please, sir;All's one to him, I see.Face. What! for that money?I cannot with my conscience; nor should youMake the request, methinks.Dap. No, sir, I meanTo add consideration.Face. Why then, sir,I'll try. [Goes to SUBTLE.] Say that it were for all games, doctor?Sub. I say then, not a mouth shall eat for himAt any ordinary, 17 but on the score, 18That is a gaming mouth, conceive me.Face. Indeed!Sub. He'll draw you all the treasure of the realm,If it be set him.Face. Speak you this from art ?Sub. Ay, sir, and reason too, the ground of art.He is of the only best complexion,The queen of Fairy loves.Face. What! is he?Sub. Peace.He'll overhear you. Sir, should she but see him—Face. What?Sub. Do not you tell him.Face. Will he win at cards too?Sub. The spirits of dead Holland, living Isaac, 19[556]You'd swear, were in him; such a vigorous luckAs cannot be resisted. 'Slight, he'll putSix of your gallants to a cloak, 20 indeed.Face. A strange success, that some man shall be born tolSub. He hears you, manDap. Sir, I'll not be ingrateful.Face. Faith, I have confidence in his good nature:You hear, he says he will not be ingrateful.Sub. Why, as you please; my venture follows yours.Face. Troth, do it, doctor; think him trusty, and make him.He may make us both happy in an hour;Win some five thousand pound, and send us two on't.Dap. Believe it, and I will, sir.Face. And you shall, sir.You have heard all?Dap. No, what was't? Nothing, I, sir.FACE takes him aside.Face. Nothing!Dap. A little, sir.Face. Well, a rare starReign'd at your birth.Dap. At mine, sir! No.Face. Thfe doctorSwears that you areSub. Nay, captain, you'll tell all now.Face. Allied to the queen of Fairy.Dap. Who! That I am?Believe it, no such matterFace. Yes, and thatYou were born with a caul on your head.Dap. Who says so?Face. Come,You know it well enough, though you dissemble it.Dap. I' fac, 2 11 do not; you are mistaken.[557]Face. How!Swear by your fac, 21 and in a thing so knownUnto the doctor? How shall we, sir, trust youI' the other matter; can we ever think,When you have won five or six thousand pound,You'll send us shares in't by this rate?Dap. By Jove, sir,I'll win ten thousand pound, and send you half.I' fac's no oath.Sub. No, no, he did but jest.Face. Go to. Go thank the doctor: he's your friend,To take it so.Dap. I thank his worship.Face. So!Another angel.Dap. Must I?Face. Must you!'slight,What else is thanks ? Will you be trivial ?—Doctor,[DAPPER gives him the money.]When must he come for his familiar?Dap: Shall I not ha' it with me?Sub. O, good sir!There must a world of ceremonies pass;You must be bath'd and fumigated first:Besides, the queen of Fairy does not riseTill it be noon.Face. Not if she danc'd to-night.Sub. And she must bless it.Face. Did you never seeHer royal grace yet?Dap. Whom ?Face. Your aunt of Fairy ?Sub. Not since she kist him in the cradle, captain;I can resolve you that.Face. Well, see her grace,Whate'er it cost you, for a thing that I know.[558]It will be somewhat hard to compass; butHowever, see her. You are made, believe it,If you can see her. Her grace is a lone woman,And very rich; and if she take a fancy,She will do strange things. See her, at any hand.'Slid, she may hap to leave you all she has:It is the doctor's fear.Dap. How will't be done, then?Face. Let me alone, take you no thought. Do youBut say to me, "Captain, I'll see her grace."Dap. "Captain, I'll see her grace."Face. Enough. One \noc\s without.Sub. Who's there?Anon.—[Aside to FACE.] Conduct him forth by the back way.—Sir, against one o'clock prepare yourself;Till when you must be fasting; only takeThree drops of vinegar in at your nose,Two at your mouth, and one at either ear;Then bathe your fingers' ends and wash your eyes,To sharpen your five senses, and cry humThrice, and then buz as often; and then come. [£**/.]Face. Can you remember this?Dap. I warrant you.Face. Well then, away. It is but your bestowingSome twenty nobles 'mong her grace's servants,And put on a clean shirt. You do not knowWhat grace her grace may do you in clean linen.[Exeunt FACE and DAPPER.]
p. 558¶SCENE HI. [The same]Sub. [Within.] Come in! Good wives, I pray you forbear menow;Troth, I can do you no good till afternoon—
¶[Enter SUBTLE, followed by DRUGGER]Sub. What is your name, say you? Abel Drugger?Drug. Yes, sir.[559]Sub. A seller of tobacco?Drug. Yes, sir.Sub. Umph!Free of the grocers? 1Drug. Ay, an't please you.Sub. WellYour business, Abel?Drug. This, an't please your worship;I am a young beginner, and am buildingOf a new shop, an't like your worship, justAt corner of a street:—Here is the plot 2 on'tAnd I would know by art, sir, of your worship,Which way I should make my door, by necromancy,And where my shelves; and which should be for boxes,And which for pots. I would be glad to thrive, sir:And I was wish'd 3 to your worship by a gentleman,One Captain Face, that says you know men's planets,And their good angels, and their bad.Sub. I do,If I do see 'em
¶[Enter FACE]
¶Face. What! my honest Abel ?Thou art well met here.Drug. Troth, sir, I was speaking,Just as your worship came here, of your worship:I pray you speak for me to master doctor.Face. He shall do anything. Doctor, do you hear?This is my friend, Abel, an honest fellow;He lets me have good tobacco, and he does notSophisticate it with sack-lees or oil,Nor washes it in muscadel and grains,Nor buries it in gravel, under ground,Wrapped up in greasy leather, or piss'd clouts:But keeps it in fine lily pots, that, open'd,Smell like conserve of roses, or French beans.[560]He has his maple block, 4 his silver tongs,Winchester pipes, and fire of juniper: 5A neat, spruce, honest fellow, and no goldsmith. 6Sub. He's a fortunate fellow, that I am sure on.Face. Already, sir, ha' you found it? Lo thee, Abel!Sub. And in right way toward richesFace. Sir!Sub. This summer.He will be of the clothing of his company, 7And next spring call'd to the scarlet; 8 spend what he can.Face. What, and so little beard?Sub. Sir, you must think,He may have a receipt to make hair come:But he'll be wise, preserve his youth, and fine for't;His fortune looks for him another way.Face. 'Slid, doctor, how canst thou know this so soon?I am amus'd 9 at that.Sub. By a rule, captain,In metoposcopy, 10 which I do work by;A certain star i' the forehead, which you see not.Your chestnut or your olive-colour'd faceDoes never fail: and your long ear doth promise,I knew't, by certain spots, too, in his teeth,And on the nail of his mercurial finger.Face. Which finger's that?Sub. His little finger. Look.You were born upon a Wednesday?Drug. Yes, indeed, sir.Sub. The thumb, in chiromancy, we give Venus;The forefinger to Jove; the midst to Saturn;The ring to Sol; the least to Mercury,Who was the lord, sir, of his horoscope,His house of life being Libra; which foreshow'dHe should be a merchant, and should trade with balance.[561]Face. Why, this is strange! Is it not, honest Nab?Sub. There is a ship now coming from Ormus,That shall yield him such a commodityOf drugs This is the west, and this the south?[Pointing to the -plan.]Drug. Yes, sir.Sub. And those are your two sides ?Drug. Ay, sir.Sub. Make me your door then, south; your broad side, west:And on the east side of your shop, aloft,Write Mathlai, Tarmiel, and Baraborat;Upon the north part, Rael, Velel, Thiel.They are the names of those Mercurial spiritsThat do fright flies from boxes.Drug. Yes, sir.Sub. AndBeneath your threshold, bury me a loadstoneTo draw in gallants that wear spurs: the rest,They'll seem 11 to follow.Face. That's a secret, Nab!Sub. And, on your stall, a puppet, with a viceAnd a court-fucus, 12 to call city-dames:You shall deal much with minerals.Drug. Sir, I have.At home, alreadySub. Ay, I know you have arsenic,Vitriol, sataartar, argaile, 13 alkali,Cinoper:1 41 know all.—This fellow, captain,Will come, in time, to be a great distiller,And give a say 15—I will not say directly,But very fair—at the philosopher's stone.Face. Why, how now, Abel! is this true?Drug. [Aside to FACE.] Good captain,What must I give?Face. Nay, I'll not counsel thee.[562]Thou hear'st what wealth (he says, spend what thou canst),Thou'rt like to come to.Drug. I would gi' him a crown.Face. A crown! and toward such a fortune? Heart,Thou shalt rather gi' him thy shop. No gold about thee ?Drug. Yes, I have a portague, 161 ha' kept this half-year.Face. Out on thee, Nab! 'Slight, there was such an offer—Shalt keep't no longer, I'll give't him for thee. Doctor,Nab prays your worship to drink this, and swearsHe will appear more grateful, as your skillDoes raise him in the world.Drug. I would entreatAnother favour of his worship.Face. What is't, Nab ?Drug. But to look over, sir, my almanac,And cross out my ill-days, 17 that I may neitherBargain, nor trust upon them.Face. That he shall, Nab:Leave it, it shall be done, .'gainst afternoon.Sub. And a direction for his shelves.Face. Now, Nab,Art thou well pleas'd, Nab?Drug. 'Thank, sir, both your worships.Face. Away. [Exit DRUGGER.]Why, now, you smoaky persecutor of nature!Now do you see, that something's to be done,Beside your beech-coal, and your cor'sive 18 waters,Your crosslets, 19 crucibles, and cucurbites? 20You must have stuff, brought home to you, to work on:And yet you think, I am at no expenseIn searching out these veins, then following them,Then trying 'em out. 'Fore God, my intelligenceCosts me more money than my share oft comes to,In these rare works.Sub. You're pleasant, sir.—How now![563]SCENE IV. [The same]
FACE. SUBTLE. [Enter] DOL
¶Sub. What says my dainty Dolkin?Dol. Yonder fish-wifeWill not away. And there's your giantess,The bawd of Lambeth.Sub. Heart, I cannot speak with 'em.Dol. Not afore night, I have told 'em in a voice,Thorough the trunk, like one of your familiars.But I have spied Sir Epicure MammonSub. Where?Dol. Coming along, at far end of the lane,Slow of his feet, but earnest of his tongueTo one that's with him.Sub. Face, go you and shift.Dol, you must presently make ready too. [Exit FACE.]Dol. Why, what's the matter?Sub. O, I did look for himWith the sun's rising: marvel he could sleep.This is the day I am to perfect for himThe magisterium, our great work, the stone;And yield it, made, into his hands: of whichHe has, this month, talk'd as he were possess'd.And now he's dealing pieces on't away.Methinks I see him ent'ring ordinaries,Dispensing for the pox, and plaguy houses,Reaching his dose, walking Moorfields for lepers,And off'ring citizens' wives pomander'-bracelets,As his preservative, made of the elixir;Searching the spittle, to make old bawds young;And the highways, for beggars, to make rich.I see no end of his labours. He will makeNature asham'd of her long sleep: when art,Who's but a step-dame, shall do more than she,[564]In her best love to mankind, ever could.If his dream last, he'll turn the age to gold. [Exeunt.]
Act II
¶SCENE I. [An outer room in Lovewit's house]
¶[Enter] Sir EPICURE MAMMON and SURLY
¶Mam. Come on, sir. Now you set your foot on shoreIn Novo Or be; I here's the rich Peru:And there within, sir, are the golden mines,Great Solomon's Ophir! He was sailing to'tThree years, but we have reach'd it in ten months.This is the day wherein, to all my friends,I will pronounce the happy word, BE RICH;
This Day You Shall Be Spectatissimi. 2
¶You shall no more deal with the hollow die,Or the frail card. No more be at charge of keepingThe livery-punk 3 for the young heir, that mustSeal, at all hours, in his shirt: no more,If he deny, ha' him beaten to't, as he isThat brings him the commodity. No moreShall thirst of satin, or the covetous hungerOf velvet entrails 4 for a rude-spun cloak,To be display'd at Madam Augusta's, makeThe sons of Sword and Hazard fall beforeThe golden calf, and on their knees, whole nights,Commit idolatry with wine and trumpets:Or go a feasting after drum and ensign.No more of this. You shall start up young viceroys.And unto thee I speak it first, BE RICH.Where is my Subtle, there? Within, ho![Face, within.] Sir,He'll come to you by and by.Mam. That is his fire-drake, sHis Lungs, his Zephyrus, he that puffs his coals,[565]Till he firk 8 nature up, in her own centre.You are not faithful, 7 sir. This night I'll changeAll that is metal in my house to gold:And, early in the morning, will I sendTo all the plumbers and the pewterers,And buy their tin and lead up; and to LothburyFor all the copper.Sur. What, and turn that, too?Mam. Yes, and I'll purchase Devonshire and Cornwall,And make them perfect Indies! You admire now?Sur. No, faith.Mam. But when you see th' effects of the Great Med'cine,Of which one part projected on a hundredOf Mercury, or Venus, or the moon,Shall turn it to as many of the sun; 8Nay, to a thousand, so ad infinitum:You will believe me.Sur. Yes, when I see't, I will.But if my eyes do cozen me so, and IGiving them no occasion, sure I'll haveThem out next day.Mam. Ha! why?Do you think I fable with you? I assure you,He that has once the flower of the sun,The perfect ruby, which we call elixir,Not only can do that, but by its virtue,Can confer honour, love, respect, long life;Give safety, valour, yea, and victory,To whom he will. In eight and twenty days,I'll make an old man of fourscore, a child.Sur. No doubt; he's that already.Mam. Nay, I mean,Restore his years, renew him, like an eagle,To the fifth age; make him get sons and daughters,Young giants; as our philosophers have done,The ancient patriarchs, afore the flood,[566]But taking, once a week, on a knife's point,The quantity of a grain of mustard of it;Become stout Marses, and beget young Cupids.Sur. The decay'd vestals of Pickt-hatch1 would thank youThat keep the fire alive there.Mam. 'Tis the secretOf nature naturiz'd 'gainst all infections,Cures all diseases coming of all causes;A month's grief in a day, a year's in twelve;And, of what age soever, in a month:Past all the doses of your drugging doctors.I'll undertake, withal, to fright the plagueOut o' the kingdom in three months.Sur. And I'llBe bound, the players shall sing your praises then,Without their poets. 10Mam. Sir, I'll do't. Meantime,I'll give away so much unto my man,Shall serve th' whole city with preservativeWeekly; each house his dose, and at the rateSur. As he that built the Water-work does with water?Mam. You are incredulous.Sur. Faith, I have a humour,I would not willingly be gull'd.2 1 Your stoneCannot transmute me.Mam. Pertinax Surly,Will you believe antiquity? Records?I'll show you a book where Moses, and his sister,And Solomon have written of the art;Ay, and a treatise penn'd by AdamSur. How!Mam. Of the philosopher's stone, and in High Dutch.Sur. Did Adam write, sir, in High Dutch ?Mam. He did;Which proves it was the primitive tongue.[567]Sur. What paper?Mam. On cedar board.Sur. O that, indeed, they say,Will last 'gainst worms.Mam. ' 'Tis like your Irish wood,'Gainst cobwebs. I have a piece of Jason's fleece too,Which was no other than a book of alchemy,Writ in large sheepskin, a good fat ram-vellum.Such was Pythagoras' thigh, Pandora's tub,And all that fable of Medea's charms,The manner of our work; the bulls, our furnace,Still breathing fire; our argent-vive, 12 the dragon:The dragon's teeth, mercury sublimate,That keeps the whiteness, hardness, and the biting;And they are gather'd into Jason's helm,The alembic, and then sow'd in Mars his field,And thence sublim'd so often, till they're fix'd.Both this, th' Hesperian garden, Cadmus' story,Jove's shower, the boon of Midas, Argus' eyes,Boccace his Demogorgon, 13 thousands more,All abstract riddles of our stone.—How now!
¶MAMMON, SURLY. [Enter] FACE, [as a Servant]Mam. Do we succeed? Is our day come? And holds it?Face. The evening will set red upon you, sir;You have colour for it, crimson: the red fermentHas done his office; three hours hence prepare youTo see projection.Mam. Pertinax, my Surly.Again I say to thee, aloud, BE RICH.This day thou shalt have ingots; and to-morrowGive lords th' affront.—Is it, my Zephyrus, right?Blushes the bolt's-head? 1[568]Face. Like a wench with child, sir,That were but now discover'd to her master.Mam. Excellent witty Lungs!—My only care isWhere to get stuff enough now, to project on; 2This town will not half serve me.Face. No, sir! buyThe covering off o' churches.Mam. That's true.Face. Yes.Let 'em stand bare, as do their auditory; 3Or cap 'em new with shingles.Mam. No, good thatch:Thatch will lie light upo' the rafters, Lungs.—Lungs, I will manumit thee from the furnace;I will restore thee thy complexion, Puff,Lost in the embers; and repair this brain,Hurt with the fume o' the metals.Face. I have blown, sir,Hard, for your worship; thrown by many a coal,When 'twas not beech; weigh'd those I put in, just,To keep your heat still even. These blear'd eyesHave wak'd to read your several colours, sir,Of the pale citron, the green lion, the crow,The peacock's tail, the plumed swan.Mam. And lastly,Thou hast descried the flower, the sanguis agni?Face. Yes, sir.Mam. Where's master?Face. At's prayers, sir, he;Good man, he's doing his devotionsFor the success.Mam. Lungs, I will set a periodTo all thy labours; thou shalt be the masterOf my seraglio.Face. Good, sir.Mam. But do you hear?[569]I'll geld you, Lungs.Face. Yes, sir.Mam. For I do meanTo have a list of wives and concubinesEqual with Solomon, who had the stoneAlike with me; and I will make me a backWith the elixir that shall be as toughAs Hercules, to encounter fifty a night.—Thou'rt sure thou saw'st it blood?Face. Both blood and spirit, sir.Mam. I will have all my beds blown up, not stuft;Down is too hard: and then, mine oval roomFill'd with such pictures as Tiberius tookFrom Elephantis, and dull AretineBut coldly imitated. Then, my glassesCut in more subtle angles, to disperseAnd multiply the figures, as I walkNaked between my succuba?.1 My mistsI'll have of perfume, vapour'd 'bout the room,To lose our selves in; and my baths, like pitsTo fall into; from whence we will come forthAnd roll us dry in gossamer and roses.—Is it arrived at ruby ? Where I spyA wealthy citizen, or [a] rich lawyer,Have a sublim'd pure wife, unto that fellowI'll send a thousand pound to be my cuckold.Face. And I shall carry it?Mam. No. I'll ha' no bawdsBut fathers and mothers: they will do it best,Best of all others. And my flatterersShall be the pure and gravest of divines,That I can get for money. My mere fools,Eloquent burgesses, and then my poetsThe same that writ so subtly of the fart,Whom I will entertain still for that subject.The few that would give out themselves to be[570]Court and town-stallions, and, each-where, belyLadies who are known most innocent, for them,Those will I beg, to make me eunuchs of:And they shall fan me with ten estrich tailsA-piece, made in a plume to gather wind.We will be brave, Puff, now we ha' the med'cine.My meat shall all come in, in Indian shells,Dishes of agate set in gold, and studdedWith emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths, and rubies.The tongues of carps, dormice, and camels' heels,Boil'd i' the spirit of sol, and dissolv'd pearl(Apicius' diet, 'gainst the epilepsy):And I will eat these broths with spoons of amber,Headed with diamond and carbuncle.My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, calver'd salmons, 8Knots, 6 godwits, lampreys: I myself will haveThe beards of barbel 7 serv'd, instead of salads;Oiled mushrooms; and the swelling unctuous papsOf a fat pregnant sow, newly cut off,Drest with an exquisite and poignant sauce;For which, I'll say unto my cook, There's gold,Go forth, and be a \night.Face. Sir, I'll go lookA little, how it heightens. [En*.]Mam. Do.—My shirtsI'll have of taffeta-sarsnet, 8 soft and lightAs cobwebs; and for all my other raiment,It shall be such as might provoke the Persian,Were he to teach the world riot anew.My gloves of fishes and birds' skins, perfum'dWith gums of paradise, and Eastern airSur. And do you think to have the stone with this?Mam. No, I do think t' have all this with the stone.Sur. Why, I have heard he must be homo frugif[571]A pious, holy, and religious man,One free from mortal sin, a very virgin.Mam. That makes it, sir; he is so: but I buy it;My venture brings it me. He, honest wretch,A notable, superstitious, good soul,Has worn his knees bare, and his slippers bald,With prayer and fasting for it: and, sir, let himDo it alone, for me, still. Here he comes.Not a profane word afore him; 'tis poison.—
MAMMON, SURLY. [Enter] SUBTLE
¶Mam. Good morrow, father.Sub. Gentle son, good morrowAnd to your friend there. What is he is with you?Mam. An heretic, that I did bring along,In hope, sir, to convert him.Sub. Son, I doubtYou're covetous, that thus you meet your timeI* the just' point, prevent 2 your day at morning.This argues something worthy of a fearOf importune and carnal appetite.Take heed you do not cause the blessing leave you,With your ungovern'd haste. I should be sorryTo see my labours, now e'en at perfection,Got by long watching and large patience,Not prosper where my love and zeal hath plac'd them.Which (heaven I call to witness, with your self,To whom I have pour'd my thoughts) in all my ends,Have look'd no way, but unto public good,To pious uses, and dear charityNow grown a prodigy with men. WhereinIf you, my son, should now prevaricate,And to your own particular lusts employ[572]So great and catholic a bliss, be sureA curse will follow, yea, and overtakeYour subtle and most secret ways.Mam. I know, sir;You shall not need to fear me; I but comeTo ha' you confute this gentleman.Sur. Who is,Indeed, sir, somewhat costive of beliefToward your stone; would not be gull'd.Sub. Well, son,All that I can convince him in, is this,The work is done, bright Sol is in his robe.We have a med'cine of the triple soul,The glorified spirit. Thanks be to heaven,And make us worthy of it!—Wiltn fepiegell 3Face, [within.] Anon, sir.Sub. Look well to the register.And let your heat still lessen by degrees,To the aludels. 4Face, [within.] Yes, sir.Sub. Did you lookO' the bolt's head yet?Face, [within.] Which? On D, sir?Sub. Ay;What's the complexion?Face, [within.] Whitish.Sub. Infuse vinegar,To draw his volatile substance and his tincture:And let the water in glass E be filt'red,And put into the gripe's egg. 5 Lute 6 him well;And leave him clos'd in balneolFace, [within.] I will, sir.Sur. What a brave language here is! next to canting. 8[573]Sub. I have another work you never saw, son,That three days since past the philosopher's wheel,In the lent heat of Athanor; 9 and's becomeSulphur o' Nature.Mam. But 'tis for me?Sub. What need you?You have enough, in that is, perfect.Mam. O, butSub. Why, this is covetise!Mam. No, I assure you,I shall employ it all in pious uses,Founding of colleges and grammar schools,Marrying young virgins, building hospitals,And now and then a church.
p. 573¶[Re-enter FACE]Sub. How now!Face. Sir, please you,Shall I not change the filter ?Sub. Marry, yes;And bring me the complexion of glass B. [Exit FACE.]Mam. Ha' you another?Sub. Yes, son; were I assur'dYour piety were firm, we would not wantThe means to glorify it: but I hope the best.I mean to tinct C in sand-heat to-morrow,And give him imbibition. 10Mam. Of white oil?Sub. No, sir, of red. F is come over the helm too,I thank my maker, in S. Mary's bath,And shows lac virginis. Blessed be heaven!I sent you of his faeces there calcin'd:Out of that calx, I ha' won the salt of mercury.Mam. By pouring on your rectified water?Sub. Yes, and reverberating in Athanor.
¶"An alchemical furnace. 1 0Absorption.[574][Re-enter FACE]How now! what colour says it?Face. The ground black, sir.Mam. That's your crow's head?Sur. Your cock's-comb's, is it not?Sub. No, 'tis not perfect. Would it were the crow!That work wants something.Sur. [Aside.] O, I look'd for this,The hay's 11 a pitching.Sub. Are you sure you loos'd 'emIn their own menstrue? 12Face. Yes, sir, and then married 'em,And put 'em in a bolt's-head nipp'd to digestion,According as you bade me, when I setThe liquor of Mars to circulationIn the same heat.Sub. The process then was right.Face. Yes, by the token, sir, the retort brake,And what was sav'd was put into the pellican,And sign'd with Hermes' seal.Sub. I think 'twas so.We should have a new amalgama.Sur. [Aside.] O, this ferretIs rank as any polecat.Sub. But I care not;Let him e'en die; we have enough beside,In embrion. H has his white shirt on?Face. Yes, sir,He's ripe for inceration, he stands warm,In his ash-fire. I would not you should letAny die now, if I might counsel, sir,For luck's sake to the rest: it is not good.Mam. He says right.Sur. [Aside.] Ah, are you bolted?Face. Nay, I know't, sir,[575]I have seen the ill fortune. What is some three ouncesOf fresh materials?Mam. Is't no more?Face. No more, sir,Of gold, t' amalgam with some six of mercury.Mam. Away, here's money. What will serve?Face. Ask him, sir.Mam. How much?Sub. Give him nine pound: you may gi' him ten.Sur. Yes, twenty, and be cozen'd, do.Mam. There 'tis. [Gives FACE the money.]Sub. This needs not; but that you will have it so,To see conclusions of all: for twoOf our inferior works are at fixation,A third is in ascension. Go your ways.Ha' you set the oil of luna in kemia?Face. Yes, sir.Sub. And the philosopher's vinegar?Face. Ay. [Exit.]Sur. We shall have a salad!Mam. When do you make projection?Sub. Son, be not hasty, I exalt our med'cine,By hanging him in balneo vaporoso,And giving him solution; then congeal him;And then dissolve him; then again congeal him;For look, how oft I iterate the work,So many times I add unto his virtue.As if at first one ounce convert a hundred,After his second loose, he'll turn a thousand;His third solution, ten; his fourth, a hundred;After his fifth, a thousand thousand ouncesOf any imperfect metal, into pureSilver or gold, in all examinations,As good as any of the natural mine.Get you your stuff here against afternoon,Your brass, your pewter, and your andirons.Mam. Not those of iron?[576]Sub. Yes, you may bring them too;We'll change all metals.Sur. I believe you in that.Mam. Then I may send my spits ?Sub. Yes, and your racks.Sur. And dripping-pans, and pot-hangers, and hooks?Shall he not?Sub. If he please.Sur. —To be an ass.Sub. How, sir!Mam. This gent'man you must bear withal:I told you he had no faith.Sur. And little hope, sir;But much less charity, should I gull myself.Sub. Why, what have you observ'd, sir, in our art,Seems so impossible?Sur. But your whole work, no more.That you should hatch gold in a furnace, sir,As they do eggs in Egypt!Sub. Sir, do youBelieve that eggs are hatch'd so?Sur. If I should?Sub. Why, I think that the greater miracle.No egg but differs from a chicken moreThan metals in themselves.Sur. That cannot be.The egg's ordain'd by nature to that end,And is a chicken in potentia.Sub. The same we say of lead and other metals,Which would be gold if they had time.Mam. And thatOur art doth further.Sub. Ay, for 'twere absurdTo think that nature in the earth bred goldPerfect i' the instant: something went before.There must be remote matter.Sur. Ay, what is that?[577]Sub. Marry, we sayMam. Ay, now it heats: stand, father,Pound him to dust.Sub. It isj It is, of the one part,A humid exhalation, which we callMateria liquida, or the unctuous water;On th' other part, a certain crass and viscousPortion of earth; both which, concorporate,Do make the elementary matter of gold;Which is not yet propria materia,But common to all metals and all stones;For, where it is forsaken of that moisture,And hath more dryness, it becomes a stone:Where it retains more of the humid fatness,It turns to sulphur, or to quicksilver,Who are the parents of all other metals.Nor can this remote matter suddenlyProgress so from extreme unto extreme,As to grow gold, and leap o'er all the means.Nature doth first beget th' imperfect, thenProceeds she to the perfect. Of that airyAnd oily water, mercury is engend'red;Sulphur o' the fat and earthy part; the one,Which is the last, supplying the place of male,The other, of the female, in all metals.Some do believe hermaphrodeity,That both do act and suffer. But these twoMake the rest ductile, malleable, extensive.And even in gold they are; for we do findSeeds of them by our fire, and gold in them;And can produce the species of each metalMore perfect thence, than nature doth in earth.Beside, who doth not see in daily practiceArt can beget bees, hornets, beetles, wasps,Out of the carcases and dung of creatures;Yea, scorpions of an herb, being rightly plac'd?And these are living creatures, far more perfect[578]And excellent than metals.Mam. Well said, father!Nay, if he take you in hand, sir, with an argument,He'll bray you in a mortar.Sur. Pray you, sir, stay.Rather than I'll be bray'd, sir, I'll believeThat Alchemy is a pretty kind of game,Somewhat like tricks o' the cards, to cheat a manWith charming.Sub. Sir?Sur. What else are all your terms,Whereon no one o' your writers 'grees with other?Of your elixir, your lac virginis,Your stone, your med'cine, and your chrysosperm,Your sal, your sulphur, and your mercury,Your oil of height, your tree of life, your blood,Your marchesite, your tutie, your magnesia,Your toad, your crow, your dragon, and your panther;Your sun, your moon, your firmament, your adrop,Your lato, azoch, zernich, chibrit, heautarit,And then your red man, and your white woman,With all your broths, your menstrues, and materialsOf piss and egg-shells, women's terms, man's blood,Hair o' the head, burnt clouts, chalk, merds, and clay,Powder of bones, scalings of iron, glass,And worlds of other strange ingredients,Would burst a man to name?Sub. And all these nam'd,Intending but one thing; which art our writersUs'd to obscure their art.Mam. Sir, so I told him—Because 13 the simple idiot should not learn it,And make it vulgar.Sub. Was not all the knowledgeOf the Egyptians writ in mystic symbols?Speak not the scriptures oft in parables?[579]Are not the choicest fables of the poets,That were the fountains and first springs of wisdom,Wrapt in perplexed allegories?Mam. I urg'd that,And clear'd to him, that Sisyphus was damn'dTo roll the ceaseless stone, only becauseHe would have made ours common. DOL appears [at the door.]—Who is this?Sub. 'Sprecious!—What do you mean? Go in, good lady,Let me entreat you. [DOL retires.]—Where's this varlet?
¶Face. Sir.Sub. You very knave! do you use me thus?Face. Wherein, sir?Sub. Go in and see, you traitor. Go! [Exit FACE.]Mam. Who is it, sir?Sub. Nothing, sir; nothing.Mam. What's the matter, good sir?I have not seen you thus distemp'red: who is't?Sub. All arts have still had, sir, their adversaries;But ours the most ignorant.—
¶Re-enter FACE
¶What now?Face. 'Twas not my fault, sir; she would speak with you.Sub. Would she, sir! Follow me. [Ex*/.]Mam. [stopping him.] Stay, Lungs.Face. I dare not, sir.Mam. How! pray thee, stay.Face. She's mad, sir, and sent hither—Mam. Stay, man; what is she?Face. A lord's sister, sir.He'll be mad too.—Mam. I warrant thee.—Why sent hither?[580]Face. Sir, to be cur'd.Sub. [within.] Why, rascal!Face. Lo you!—Here, sir! Exit.Mam. 'Fore God, a Bradamante, a brave piece.Sur. Heart, this is a bawdy-house! I'll be burnt else.Mam. O, by this light, no: do not wrong him. He'sToo scrupulous that way: it is his vice.No, he's a rare physician, do him right,An excellent Paracelsian, and has doneStrange cures with mineral physic. He deals allWith spirits, he; he will not hear a wordOf Galen; or his tedious recipes.—
¶Re-enter FACEHow now, Lungs!Face. Softly, sir; speak softly. I meantTo have told your worship all. This must not hear.Mam. No, he will not be gull'd; let him alone.Face. You're very right, sir; she is a most rare scholar,And is gone mad with studying Broughton's 14 works.If you but name a word touching the Hebrew,She falls into her fit, and will discourseSo learnedly of genealogies,As you would run mad too, to hear her, sir.Mam. How might one do t' have conference with her, Lungs?Face. O, divers have run mad upon the conference:I do not know, sir. I am sent in hasteTo fetch a vial.Sur. Be not gull'd, Sir Mammon.Mam. Wherein? Pray ye, be patient.Sur. Yes, as you are,And trust confederate knaves and bawds and whores.Mam. You are too foul, believe it.—Come here, TBltrx,One word.Face. I dare not, in good faith. [Going.]Mam. Stay, knave.[581]Face. He is extreme angry that you saw her, sir.Mam. Drink that. [Gives him money.] What is she when she'sout of her fit?Face. O, the most affablest creature, sir! so merry!So pleasant! She'll mount you up, like quicksilver,Over the helm; and circulate like oil,A very vegetal: discourse of state,Of mathematics, bawdry, anythingMam. Is she no way accessible? no means,No trick to give a man a taste of her witOr so?Sub. [within.] HSXtXllFace. I'll come to you again, sir. [Ex//.]Mam. Surly, I did not think one of your breedingWould traduce personages of worth.Sur. Sir Epicure,Your friend to use; yet still loth to be gull'd:I do not like your philosophical bawds.Their stone is lechery enough to pay for,Without this bait.Mam. Heart, you abuse yourself.I know the lady, and her friends, and means,The original of this disaster. Her brotherHas told me all.Sur. And yet you ne'er saw herTill now!Mam. O yes, but I forgot. I have, believe it,One o' the treacherousest memories, I do think,Of all mankind.Sur. What call you her brother?Mam. My lordHe wi' not have his name known, now I think on't.Sur. A very treacherous memory!Mam. On my faithSur. Tut, if you ha' it not about you, pass it,Till we meet next.Mam. Nay, by this hand, 'tis true.[582]He's one I honour, and my noble friend;And I respect his house.Sur. Heart! can it beThat a grave sir, a rich, that has no need,A wise sir, too, at other times, should thus,With his own oaths, and arguments, make hard meansTo gull himself? An this be your elixir,Your lapis mineralis, and your lunary,Give me your honest trick yet at primero,Or gleek; 1 5 and take your lutum sapientis,Your menstruum simplex! I'll have gold before you,And with less danger of the quicksilver,Or the hot sulphur.
p. 582¶[Re-enter FACE]Face. Here's one from Captain Face, sir, [To SURLY.]Desires you meet him i' the Temple-church,Some half-hour hence, and upon earnest business.Sir, (whispers MAMMON) if you please to quit us now; and comeAgain within two hours, you shall haveMy master busy examining o' the works;And I will steal you in unto the party,That you may see her converse.—Sir, shall I sayYou'll meet the captain's worship?Sur. Sir, I will.— [Walf^s aside.]But, by attorney, and to a second purpose.Now, I am sure it is a bawdy-house;I'll swear it, were the marshal here to thank me:The naming this commander doth confirm it.Don Face! why, he's the most authentic dealerIn these commodities, the superintendentTo all the quainter traffickers in town!He is the visitor, and does appointWho lies with whom, and at what hour; what price;Which gown, and in what smock; what fall; 1 6 what tire. 17Him will I prove, by a third person, to find[583]The subtleties of this dark labyrinth:Which if I do discover, dear Sir Mammon,You'll give your poor friend leave, though no philosopher,To laugh: for you that are, 'tis thought, shall weep.Face. Sir, he does pray you'll not forget.Sur. I will not, sir.Sir Epicure, I shall leave you. [Exit.Mam. I follow you straight.Face. But do so, good sir, to avoid suspicion.This gent'man has a parlous head.Mam. But wilt thou, ®Iett,Be constant to thy promise?Face. As my life, sir.Mam. And wilt thou insinuate what I am, and praise me,And say I am a noble fellow?Face. O, what else, sir ?And that you'll make her royal with the stone,An empress; and yourself King of Bantam.Mam. Wilt thou do this?Face. Will I, sir!Mam. Lungs, my Lungs!I love thee.Face. Send your stuff, sir, that my masterMay busy himself about projection.Mam. Thou'st witch'd me, rogue: take, go. [Gives him money.]Face. Your jack, and all, sir.Mam. Thou art a villain—I will send my jack,And the weights too. Slave, I could bite thine ear.Away, thou dost not care for me.Face. Not I, sir!Mam. Come, I was born to make thee, my good weasel,Set thee on a bench, and have thee twirl a chainWith the best lord's vermin of 'em all.Face. Away, sir.Mam. A count, nay, a count palatineFace. Good sir, go.Mam. Shall not advance thee better: no, nor faster. [Exit.][584]SCENE IV. [The same]
¶Sub. Has he bit? has he bit?Face. And swallowed, too, my Subtle.I have given him line, and now he plays, i' faith.Sub. And shall we twitch him ?Face. Thorough both the gills.A wench is a rare bait, with which a manNo sooner's taken, but he straight firks mad. 1Sub. Dol, my Lord What'ts'hum's sister, you must nowBear yourself statelich.Dol. O, let me alone.I'll not forget my race, I warrant you.I'll keep my distance, laugh and talk aloud;Have all the tricks of a proud scurvy lady,And be as rude's her woman.Face. Well said, sanguine!*Sub. But will he send his andirons?Face. His jack too,And's iron shoeing-horn; I have spoke to him. Well,I must not lose my wary gamester yonder.Sub. O, Monsieur Caution, that will not be gull'd?Face. Ay,If I can strike a fine hook into him, now!—The Temple-church, there I have cast mine angle.Well, pray for me. I'll about it. Knocking without.Sub. What, more gudgeons! 3Dol, scout, scout! [DOL goes to the window.] Stay, Face, you mustgo to the door,'Pray God it be my anabaptist—Who is't, Dol ?Dol. I know him not: he looks like a gold-end-man. 4Sub. 'Ods so! 'tis he, he said he would send—what call you him?The sanctified elder, that should deal[585]For Mammon's jack and andirons. Let him in.Stay, help me off, first, with my gown. [Exit FACE with the gown.]Away,Madam, to your withdrawing chamber. [Exit. DOL.] NOW,In a new tune, new gesture, but old language.—This fellow is sent from one negotiates with meAbout the stone too, for the holy brethrenOf Amsterdam, the exil'd saints, that hopeTo raise their discipline 5 by it. I must use himIn some strange fashion now, to make him admire me.
SUBTLE. [Enter] ANANIAS
¶Where is my drudge? [Aloud.][Enter] FACEFace. Sir!Sub. Take away the recipient,And rectify your menstrue from the phlegma.Then pour it on the Sol, in the cucurbite,And let them macerate together.Face. Yes, sir.And save the ground ?Sub. No: terra damnataMust not have entrance in the work.—Who are you ?Ana. A faithful brother, 1 if it please you.Sub. What's that?ALullianist? a Ripley? 2 Filius artis?Can you sublime and dulcify? Calcine?Know you the sapor pontic ? Sapor stiptic ?Or what is homogene, or heterogene ?Ana. I understand no heathen language, truly.Sub. Heathen! You Knipper-doling? 3 Is Ars sacra,[586]Or chrysopceia, or spagyrica,Or the pamphysic, or panarchic knowledge,A heathen language?Ana. Heathen Greek, I take it.Sub. How! Heathen Greek?Ana. All's heathen but the Hebrew.Sub. Sirrah my varlet, stand you forth and speak to himLike a philosopher: answer i' the language.Name the vexations, and the martyrizationsOf metals in the work.Face. Sir, putrefaction,Solution, ablution, sublimation,Cohobation, calcination, ceration, andFixation.Sub. This is heathen Greek, to you, now!—And when comes vivification ?Face. After mortification.Sub. What's cohobation?Face. 'Tis the pouring onYour aqua regis, and then drawing him off,To the trine circle of the seven spheres.Sub. What's the proper passion of metals?Face. Malleation.Sub. What's your ultimum supplicium auri?Face. Antimonium.Sub. This is heathen Greek to you!—And what's your mercury?Face. A very fugitive, he will be gone, sir.Sub. How know you him?Face. By his viscosity,His oleosity, and his suscitability.Sub. How do you sublime him?Face. With the calce of egg-shells,White marble, talc.Sub. Your magisterium now,What's that?Face. Shifting, sir, your elements,Dry into cold, cold into moist, moist into hot,Hot into dry.[587]Sub. This is heathen Greek to you still!Your lapis philosophicus?Face. 'Tis a stone,And not a stone; a spirit, a soul, and a body:Which if you do dissolve, it is dissolv'd;If you coagulate, it is coagulated;If you make it to fly, it flieth.Sub. Enough. [Exit FACE.]This is heathen Greek to you! What are you, sir?Ana. Please you, a servant of the exil'd brethren,That deal with widows' and with orphans' goods,And make a just account unto the saints:A deacon.Sub. O, you are sent from Master Wholesome,Your teacher?Ana. From Tribulation Wholesome,Our very zealous pastor.Sub. Good! I haveSome orphans' goods to come here.Ana. Of what kind, sir?Sub. Pewter and brass, andirons and kitchen-ware.Metals, that we must use our med'cine on:Wherein the brethren may have a penn'orthFor ready money.Ana. Were the orphans' parentsSincere professors?Sub. Why do you ask ?Ana. BecauseWe then are to deal justly, and give, in truth,Their utmost value.Sub. 'Slid, you'd cozen else,An if their parents were not of the faithful!—I will not trust you, now I think on it,Till I ha' talk'd with your pastor. Ha' you brought moneyTo buy more coals?Ana. No, surely.Sub. No? How so?Ana. The brethren bid me say unto you, sir,[588]Surely, they will not venture any moreTill they may see projection.Sub. How!Ana. You've hadFor the instruments, as bricks, and lome, and glasses,Already thirty pound; and for materials,They say, some ninety more: and they have heard since,That one, at Heidelberg, made it of an egg,And a small paper of pin-dust.Sub. What's your name?Ana. My name is Ananias.Sub. Out, the varletThat cozen'd the apostles! Hence, away!Flee, mischief! had your holy consistoryNo name to send me, of another sound,Than wicked Ananias? Send your eldersHither, to make atonement for you, quickly,And give me satisfaction; or out goesThe fire; and down th' alembecs, and the furnace,Tiger Henricus, or what not. Thou wretch!Both sericon and bufo shall be lost,Tell them. All hope of rooting out the bishops,Or th' anti-Christian hierarchy shall perish,If they stay threescore minutes: the aqueity,Terreity, and sulphureityShall run together again, and all be annull'd,Thou wicked Ananias! [Exit ANANIAS.] This will fetch 'em,And make 'em haste towards their gulling more.A man must deal like a rough nurse, and frightThose that are froward, to an appetite.
¶SUBTLE [Enter] FACE [in his uniform, followed by] DRUGGERFace. He's busy with his spirits, but we'll upon him.Sub. How now! What mates, what Bayards1 ha' we here?[589]Face. I told you he would be furious.—Sir, here's NabHas brought you another piece of gold to look on;—We must appease him. Give it me,—and prays you,You would devise—what is it, Nab ?Drug. A sign, sir.Face. Ay, a good lucky one, a thriving sign, doctor.Sub. I was devising now.
p. 589¶Face. [Aside to SUB.] 'Slight, do not say so,
¶He will repent he ga' you any more—What say you to his constellation, doctor,The Balance?Sub. No, that way is stale and common.A townsman born in Taurus, gives the bull,Or the bull's head: in Aries, the ram,A poor-device! No, I will have his nameForm'd in some mystic character; whose radii,Striking the senses of the passers-by,Shall, by a virtual 2 influence, breed affections,That may result upon the party owns it:As thus
¶Face. Nab!
¶Sub. He first shall have a bell, that's Abel;And by it standing one whose name is Dee 3In a rug* gown, there's D, and Rug, that's drug:And right anenst him a dog snarling er;There's Drugger, Abel Drugger. That's his sign.And here's now mystery and hieroglyphic!Face. Abel, thou art made.Drug. Sir, I do thank his worship.Face. Six o' thy legs 5 more will not do it, Nab.He has brought you a pipe of tobacco, doctor.
¶Drug. Yes, sir;
¶I have another thing I would impartFace. Out with it, Nab.Drug. Sir, there is lodg'd, hard by me,[590]A rich young widowFace, Good! a bona roba? 6Drug. But nineteen at the most.Face. Very good, Abel.Drug. Marry, she's not in fashion yet; she wearsA hood, but't stands a cop. 7Face. No matter, Abel.Drug. And I do now and then give her a fucus 8Face. What! dost thou deal, Nab ?Sub. I did tell you, captainDrug. And physic too, sometime, sir; for which she trusts meWith all her mind. She's come up here of purposeTo learn the fashion.Face. Good (his match too!)—On, Nab.Drug. And she does strangely long to know her fortune.Face. 'Ods lid, Nab, send her to the doctor, hither.Drug. Yes, I have spoke to her of his worship already;But she's afraid it will be blown abroad,And hurt her marriage.Face. . Hurt it! 'tis the wayTo heal it, if 'twere hurt; to make it moreFollow'd and sought. Nab, thou shalt tell her this.She'll be more known, more talk'd of; and your widowsAre ne'er of any price till they be famous;Their honour is their multitude of suitors.Send her, it may be thy good fortune. What!Thou dost not know.Drug. No, sir, she'll never marryUnder a knight: her brother has made a vow.Face. What! and dost thou despair, my little Nab,Knowing what the doctor has set down for thee,And seeing so many o' the city dubb'd ?One glass o' thy water, with a madam I know,Will have it done, Nab. What's her brother, a knight?Drug. No, sir, a gentleman newly warm in's land, sir,[591]Scarce cold in his one and twenty, that does governHis sister here; and is a man himselfOf some three thousand a year, and is come upTo learn to quarrel, and to live by his wits,And will go down again, and die i' the country.Face. How! to quarrel?Drug. Yes, sir, to carry quarrels,As gallants do; to manage 'em by line.Face. 'Slid, Nab, the doctor is the only manIn Christendom for him. He has made a table,With mathematical demonstrations,Touching the art of quarrels: he will give himAn instrument to quarrel by. Go, bring 'em both,Him and his sister. And, for thee, with herThe doctor happ'ly may persuade. Go to:'Shalt give his worship a new damask suitUpon the premises.Sub. O, good captain!Face. He shall;He is the honestest fellow, doctor. Stay not,No offers; bring the damask, and the parties.Drug. I'll try my power, sir.Face. And thy will too, Nab.Sub. 'Tis good tobacco, this! What is't an ounce?Face. He'll send you a pound, doctor.Sub. O no.Face. He will do't.It is the goodest soul!—Abel, about it.Thou shalt know more anon. Away, be gone. [Exit ABEL.]A miserable rogue, and lives with cheese,And has the worms. That was the cause, indeed,Why he came now: he dealt with me in private,To get a med'cine for 'em.Sub. And shall, sir. This works.Face. A wife, a wife for one on us, my dear Subtle!We'll e'en draw lots, and he that fails, shall haveThe more in goods.[592]Sub. Faith, best let's see her first, and then determine.Face. Content: but Dol must ha' no breath on't.Sub. Mum.Away you, to your Surly yonder, catch him.Face. Pray God I ha' not staid too long.Sub. I fear it. [Exeunt.]
Act III
¶SCENE I. [The lane before Lovewit's house]
Enter TRIBULATION WHOLESOME and ANANIAS
¶Tri. These chastisements are common to the saints,And such rebukes we of the separationMust bear with willing shoulders, as the trialsSent forth to tempt our frailties.Ana. In pure zeal,I do not like the man; he is a heathen,And speaks the language of Canaan, truly.Tri. I think him a profane person indeed.Ana. He bearsThe visible mark of the beast in his forehead.And for his stone, it is a work of darkness,And with philosophy blinds the eyes of man.Tri. Good brother, we must bend unto all means,That may give furtherance to the holy cause.Ana. Which his cannot: the sanctified causeShould have a sanctified course.Tri. Not always necessary:The children of perdition are oft timesMade instruments even of the greatest works.Beside, we should give somewhat to man's nature,The place he lives in, still about the fire,And fume of metals, that intoxicateThe brain of man, and make him prone to passion.Where have you greater atheists than your cooks ?Or more profane, or choleric, than your glass-men ?More anti-Christian than your bell-founders ?[593]What makes the devil so devilish, I would ask you,Sathan, our common enemy, but his beingPerpetually about the fire, and boilingBrimstone and arsenic? We must give, I say,Unto the motives, and the stirrers upOf humours in the blood. It may be so,When as the work is done, the stone is made,This heat of his may turn into a zeal,And stand up for the beauteous disciplineAgainst the menstruous cloth and rag of Rome.We must await his calling, and the comingOf the good spirit. You did fault, t' upbraid himWith the brethren's blessing of Heidelberg, weighingWhat need we have to hasten on the work,For the restoring of the silenc'd saints,1Which ne'er will be but by the philosopher's stone.And so a learned elder, one of Scotland,Assur'd me; aurum potabile beingThe only med'cine for the civil magistrate,T' incline him to a feeling of the cause;And must be daily us'd in the disease.Ana. I have not edified more, truly, by man;Not since the beautiful light first shone on me:And I am sad my zeal hath so offended.Tri. Let us call on him then.Ana. The motion's good,And of the spirit; I will knock first. [Knocks.] Peace be within!
¶[The door is opened, and they enter.]SCENE II. [A room in Lovewit's house]Enter SUBTLE, followed by TRIBULATION and ANANIAS
¶Sub. O, are you come? 'Twas time. Your threescore minutesWere at last thread, you see; and down had gone
¶Furnus acedia;, turris circulatorius:
¶Limbec, bolt's-head, retort, and pelican
p. 594¶Had all been cinders. Wicked Ananias!Art thou return'd ? Nay, then it goes down yet.Tri. Sir, be appeased; he is come to humbleHimself in spirit, and to ask your patience,If too much zeal hath carried him asideFrom the due path.Sub. Why, this doth qualify!Tri. The brethren had no purpose, verily,To give you the least grievance; but are readyTo lend their willing hands to any projectThe spirit and you direct.Sub. This qualifies more!Tri. And for the orphans' goods, let them be valu'd,Or what is needful else to the holy work,It shall be numb'red; here, by me, the saintsThrow down their purse before you.Sub. This qualifies most!Why, thus it should be, now you understand.Have I discours'd so unto you of our stone,And of the good that it shall bring your cause?Show'd you (beside the main of hiring forcesAbroad, drawing the Hollanders, your friends,From the Indies, to serve you, with all their fleet)That even the med'cinal use shall make you a faction,And party in the realm ? As, put the case,That some great man in state, he have the gout,Why, you but send three drops of your elixir,You help him straight: there you have made a friend.Another has the palsy or the dropsy,He takes of your incombustible stuff,He's young again: there you have made a friend.A lady that is past the feat of body,Though not of mind, and hath her face decay'dBeyond all cure of paintings, you restore,With the oil of talc: there you have made a friend;And all her friends. A lord that is a leper,A knight that has the bone-ache, or a squire[595]That hath both these, you make 'em smooth and sound,With a bare fricace 1 of your med'cine: stillYou increase your friends.Tri. Ay, 'tis very pregnant.Sub. And then the turning of this lawyer's pewterTo plate at ChristmasAna. Christ-tide, I pray you.Sub. Yet, Ananias!Ana. I have done.Sub. Or changingHis parcel 2 gilt to massy gold. You cannotBut raise you friends. Withal, to be of powerTo pay an army in the field, to buyThe King of France out of his realms, or SpainOut of his Indies. What can you not doAgainst lords spiritual or temporal,That shall oppone 3 you?Tri. Verily, 'tis true.We may be temporal lords ourselves, I take it.Sub. You may be anything, and leave off to makeLong-winded exercises; or suck upYour ha! and hum! in a tune. I not deny,But such as are not graced in a state,May, for their ends, be adverse in religion,And get a tune to call the flock together:For, to say sooth, a tune does much with womenAnd other phlegmatic people; it is your bell.Ana. Bells are profane; a tune may be religious.Sub. No warning with you? Then farewell my patience.'Slight, it shall down; I will not be thus tortur'd.Tri. I pray you, sir.Sub. All shall perish. I have spoke it.Tri. Let me find grace, sir, in your eyes; the manHe stands corrected: neither did his zeal,But as your self, allow a tune somewhere.Which now, being tow'rd 4 the stone, we shall not need.[596]Sub. No, nor your holy vizard, 5 to win widowsTo give you legacies; or make zealous wivesTo rob their husbands for the common cause:Nor take the start of bonds broke but one day,And say they were forfeited by providence.Nor shall you need o'er night to eat huge meals,To celebrate your next day's fast the better;The whilst the brethren and the sisters humbled,Abate the stiffness of the flesh. Nor castBefore your hungry hearers scrupulous bones; 6As whether a Christian may hawk or hunt,Or whether matrons of the holy assemblyMay lay their hair out, or wear doublets,Or have that idol, starch, about their linen.Ana. It is indeed an idol.Tri. Mind him not, sir.I do command thee, spirit (of zeal, but trouble),To peace within him! Pray you, sir, go on.Sub. Nor shall you need to libel 'gainst the prelates,And shorten so your ears 7 against the hearingOf the next wire-drawn grace. Nor of necessityRail against plays, to please the aldermanWhose daily custard you devour; nor lieWith zealous rage till you are hoarse. Not oneOf these so singular arts. Nor call yourselvesBy names of Tribulation, Persecution,Restraint, Long-patience, and such like, affectedBy the whole family or wood 8 of you,Only for glory, and to catch the earOf the disciple.Tri. Truly, sir, they areWays that the godly brethren have invented,For propagation of the glorious cause,As very notable means, and whereby alsoThemselves grow soon, and profitably famous.[597]Sub. O, but the stone, all's idle to't! Nothing!The art of angels, nature's miracle,The divine secret that doth fly in cloudsFrom east to west: and whose traditionIs not from men, but spirits.Ana. I hate traditions;I do not trust themTri. Peace!Ana. They are popish all.I will not peace: I will notTri. Ananias!Ana. Please the profane, to grieve the godly; I may not.Sub. Well, Ananias, thou shalt overcome.Tri. It is an ignorant zeal that haunts him, sir:But truly else a very faithful brother,A botcher, 9 and a man by revelationThat hath a competent knowledge of the truth.Sub. Has he a competent sum there i' the bagTo buy the goods within ? I am made guardian,And must, for charity and conscience' sake,Now see the most be made for my poor orphan;Though I desire the brethren, too, good gainers:There they are within. When you have view'd and bought 'em,And ta'en the inventory of what they are,They are ready for projection; there's no moreTo do: cast on the med'cine, so much silverAs there is tin there, so much gold as brass,I'll gi' it you in by weight.Tri. But how long time,Sir, must the saints expect yet ?Sub. Let me see,How's the moon now ? Eight, nine, ten days hence,He will be silver potate; then three daysBefore he citronise. 10 Some fifteen days,The magisterium" will be perfected.
p. 597¶' Tailor. But the term was used generally of Puritans.
p. 598¶Ana. About the second day of the third week,In the ninth month?Sub. Yes, my good Ananias.Tri. What will the orphans' goods arise to, think you ?Sub. Some hundred marks, as much as fill'd three cars,Unladed now: you'll make six millions of 'emBut I must ha' more coals laid in.Tri. How ?Sub. Another load,And then we ha' finish'd. We must now increaseOur fire to ignis ardens; 12 we are past
¶Fimus equinus, balnei, cineris, 13
¶And all those lenter 14 heats. If the holy purseShould with this draught fall low, and that the saintsDo need a present sum, I have a trickTo melt the pewter, you shall buy now instantly,And with a tincture make you as good Dutch dollarsAs any are in Holland.Tri. Can you so?Sub. Ay, and shall bide the third examination.Ana. It will be joyful tidings to the brethren.Sub. But you must carry it secret.Tri. Ay; but stay,This act of coining, is it lawful?Ana. Lawful!We know no magistrate: or, if we did,This is foreign coin.Sub. It is no coining, sir.It is but casting.Tri. Ha! you distinguish well:Casting of money may be lawful.Ana. 'Tis, sir.Tri. Truly, I take it so.Sub. There is no scruple,Sir, to be made of it; believe Ananias:This case of conscience he is studied in.[599]Tri. I'll make a question of it to the brethren.Ana. The brethren shall approve it lawful, doubt not.Where shall it be done?Sub. For that we'll talk anon. Knoc\ without.There's some to speak with me. Go in, I pray you,And view the parcels. That's the inventory.I'll come to you straight. [Exeunt TRIB. and ANA.] Who is it?—Face! appear.
¶How now! good prize?Face. Good pox! Yond' costive cheaterNever came on.Sub. How then?Face. I ha' walk'd the roundTill now, and no such thing.Sub. And ha' you quit him ?Face. Quit him! An hell would quit him too, he were happy.'Slight! would you have me stalk like a mill-jade,All day, for one that will not yield us grains?I know him of old.Sub. O, but to ha' gull'd him,Had been a mastery.Face. Let him go, black boy!And turn thee, that some fresh news may possess thee.A noble count, a don of Spain (my dearDelicious compeer, and my party'-bawd),Who is come hither private for his conscienceAnd brought munition with him, six great slops, 2Bigger than three Dutch hoys, 3 beside round trunks, 4Furnish'd with pistolets, 5 and pieces of eight, 6Will straight be here, my rogue, to have thy bath,(That is the colour, 7) and to make his battery[600]Upon our Dol, our castle, our cinqueport,Our Dover pier, our what thou wilt. Where is she?She must prepare perfumes, delicate linen,The bath in chief, a banquet, and her wit,Where is the doxy?Sub. I'll send her to thee:And but despatch my brace of little John Leydens,*And come again myself.Face. Are they within then?Sub. Numbering the sum.Face. How much?Sub. A hundred marks, boy. [Ex/f.]Face. Why, this is a lucky day. Ten pounds of Mammon!Three o' my clerk! A portague o' my grocer!This o' the brethren! Beside reversionsAnd states to come, i' the widow, and my count!My share to-day will not be bought for forty
¶Dol. What?Face. Pounds, dainty Dorothy! Art thou so near?Dol. Yes; say, lord general, how fares our camp?Face. As with the few that had entrench'd themselvesSafe, by their discipline, against a world, Dol,And laugh'd within those trenches, and grew fatWith thinking on the booties, Dol, brought inDaily by their small parties. This dear hour,A doughty don is taken with my Dol;And thou mayst make his ransom what thou wiltMy Dousabel; 9 he shall be brought here fetter'dWith thy fair looks, before he sees thee; and thrownIn a down-bed, as dark as any dungeon;Where thou shalt keep him waking with thy drum;Thy drum, my Dol, thy drum; till he be tameAs the poor blackbirds were i' the great frost,
¶Puritans, from the name of the Anabaptist leader./. e., douce et belle; sweetheart.[601]Or bees are with a bason; and so hive himF the swan-skin coverlid and cambric sheets,Till he work honey and wax, my little God's-gift. 1Dol. What is he, general?
¶Face. An adalantado, 11
¶Face. A pox on 'em,
¶[Re-enter SUBTLE]
¶How now! ha' you done?Sub. Done. They are gone: the sumIs here in bank, my Face. I would we knewAnother chapman who would buy 'em outright.Face. 'Slid, Nab shall do't against he ha' the widow,To furnish household.Sub. Excellent, well thought on:Pray God he come.Face. I pray he keep awayTill our new business be o'erpast.Sub. But, Face,How camst thou by this secret don ?Face. A spiritBrought me th' intelligence in a paper here,As I was conjuring yonder in my circleFor Surly; I ha' my flies 12 abroad. Your bathIs famous, Subtle, by my means. Sweet Dol,Tickle him with thy mother tongue. His greatVerdugoship 13 has not a jot of language;So much the easier to be cozen'd, my Dolly.He will come here in a hir'd coach, obscure,[602]And our own coachman, whom I have sent as guide,No creature else. One knocks. Who's that? [Exit DOL.]Sub. It is not he ?Face. O no, not yet this hour.
¶Sub. Who is't?Dol. Dapper,Your clerk.Face. God's will then, Queen of Fairy,On with your tire; [Exit DOL.] and, doctor, with your robes.Let's despatch him for God's sake.Sub. 'Twill be long.Face. I warrant you, take but the cues I give you,It shall be brief enough. [Goes to the window.] 'Slight, here aremore!Abel, and I think the angry boy, the heir,That fain would quarrel.Sub. And the widow?
¶Face. No,
¶Not that I see. Away! [Exit SUB.]
¶SCENE IV. [The same]
FACE. [Enter] DAPPER
¶Face. O, sir, you are welcome.The doctor is within a moving for you;I have had the most ado to win him to it!—He swears you'll be the darling o' the dice:He never heard her highness dote till now. 1Your aunt has giv'n you the most gracious wordsThat can be thought on.Dap. Shall I see her grace?Face. See her, and kiss her too.—
¶What, honest Nab!Hast brought the damask ?Nab. No, sir; here's tobacco.Face. 'Tis well done, Nab; thou'lt bring the damask too?Drug. Yes. Here's the gentleman, captain, Master Kastril,I have brought to see the doctor.Face. Where's the widow?Drug. Sir, as he likes, his sister, he says, shall come.Face. O, is it so ? Good time. Is your name Kastril, sir ?Kas. Ay, and the best of the Kastrils, I'd be sorry else,By fifteen hundred a year. 2 Where is this doctor?My mad tobacco-boy here tells me of oneThat can do things. Has he any skill?Fa Wherein, sir?Kas. To carry a business, manage a quarrel fairly,Upon fit terms.Face. It seems, sir, you're but youngAbout the town, that can make that a question.Kas. Sir, not so young but I have heard some speechOf the angry boys, 3 and seen 'em take tobacco;And in his shop; and I can take it too.And I would fain be one of 'em, and go downAnd practice i' the country.Face. Sir, for the duello,The doctor, I assure you, shall inform you,To the least shadow of a hair; and show youAn instrument he has of his own making,Wherewith, no sooner shall you make reportOf any quarrel, but he will take the height on'tMost instantly, and tell in what degreeOf safety it lies in, or mortality.And how it may be borne, whether in a right line,Or a half circle; or may else be cast
¶21, c, he is £1,500 a year richer than any other of the Kastrils.' Roysterers, young bloods.[604]Into an angle blunt, if not acute:And this he will demonstrate. And then, rulesTo give and take the lie by.Kas. How! to take it?Face. Yes, in oblique he'll show you, or in circle;1But never in diameter.2 The whole townStudy his theorems, and dispute them ordinarilyAt the eating academies.Kas. But does he teachLiving by the wits too ?Face. Anything whatever.You cannot think that subtlety but he reads it.He made me a captain. I was a stark pimp,Just o' your standing, 'fore I met with him;It's not two months since. I'll tell you his method:First, he will enter you at some ordinary.Kas. No, I'll not come there: you shall pardon me.Face. For why, sir?Kas. There's gaming there, and tricks.Face. Why, would you beA gallant, and not game?Kas. Ay, 'twill spend a man.Face. Spend you! It will repair you when you are spent.How do they live by their wits there, that have ventedSix times your fortunes?Kas. What, three thousand a year!Face. Ay, forty thousand.Kas. Are there such?
¶Face. Ay, sir,
¶And gallants yet. Here's a young gentlemanIs born to nothing,—[Points to DAPPER.] forty marks a yearWhich I count nothing:—he is to be initiated,And have a fly o' the doctor. He will win youBy unresistible luck, within this fortnight,Enough to buy a barony. They will set him[605]Upmost, at the groom porter's, 6 all the Christmas:And for the whole year through at every placeWhere there is play, present him with the chair,The best attendance, the best drink, sometimesTwo glasses of Canary, and pay nothing;The purest linen and the sharpest knife,The partridge next his trencher: and somewhereThe dainty bed, in private, with the dainty.You shall ha' your ordinaries bid for him,As playhouses for a poet; and the masterPray him aloud to name what dish he affects,Which must be butter'd shrimps: and those that drinkTo no mouth else, will drink to his, as beingThe goodly president mouth of all the board.Kas. Do you not gull one ?Face. 'Ods my life! Do you think it?You shall have a cast commander, (can but getIn credit with a glover, or a spurrier,For some two pair of either's ware aforehand,)Will, by most swift posts, dealing [but] with him,Arrive at competent means to keep himself,His punk, and naked boy, in excellent fashion,And be admir'd for't.Kas. Will the doctor teach this ?Face. He will do more, sir: when your land is gone,(As men of spirit hate to keep earth long),In a vacation, 7 when small money is stirring,And ordinaries suspended till the term,He'll show a perspective, 8 where on one sideYou shall behold the faces and the personsOf all sufficient young heirs in town,Whose bonds are current for commodity; 9On th' other side, the merchants' forms, and others,[606]That without help of any second broker,Who would expect a share, will trust such parcels:In the third square, the very street and signWhere the commodity dwells, and does but waitTo be deliver'd, be it pepper, soap,Hops, or tobacco, oatmeal, woad, 10 or cheeses.All which you may so handle, to enjoyTo your own use, and never stand oblig'd.Kas. V faith! is he such a fellow?Face. Why, Nab here knows him.And then for making matches for rich widows,Young gentlewomen, heirs, the fortunat'st man!He's sent to, far and near, all over England,To have his counsel, and to know their fortunes.Kas. God's will, my suster shall see him.Face. I'll tell you, sir,What he did tell me of Nab. It's a strange thing—(By the way, you must eat no cheese, Nab, it breeds melancholy,And that same melancholy breeds worms) but pass it:—He told me, honest Nab here was ne'er at tavernBut once in's life.Drug. Truth, and no more I was not.Face. And then he was so sickDrug. Could he tell you that too?Face. How should I know it?Drug. In troth, we had been a shooting,And had a piece of fat ram-mutton to supper,That lay so heavy o' my stomachFace. And he has no headTo bear any wine; for what with the noise o' the fiddlers,And care of his shop, for he dares keep no servantsDrug. My head did so acheFace. And he was fain to be brought home,The doctor told me: and then a good old womanDrug. Yes, faith, she dwells in Seacoal-lane,—did cure me,With sodden ale, and pellitory 11 o' the wall;[607]Cost me but twopence. I had another sicknessWas worse than that.Face. Ay, that was with the griefThou took'st for being cess'd 12 at eighteenpence,For the waterwork.Drug. In truth, and it was likeT' have cost me almost my life.Face. Thy hair went off ?Drug. Yes, sir; 'twas done for spite.Face. Nay, so says the doctor.Kas. Pray thee, tobacco-boy, go fetch my suster;I'll see this learned boy before I go;And so shall she.Face. Sir, he is busy now:But if you have a sister to fetch hither,Perhaps your own pains may command her sooner;And he by that time will be free.