[EXEUNT.]



ACT 2. SCENE 2.1.

AN OUTER ROOM IN LOVEWIT'S HOUSE.

ENTER SIR EPICURE MAMMON AND SURLY.

MAM. Come on, sir. Now, you set your foot on shore In Novo Orbe; here's the rich Peru: And there within, sir, are the golden mines, Great Solomon's Ophir! he was sailing to't, Three years, but we have reached 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. You shall no more deal with the hollow dye, Or the frail card. No more be at charge of keeping The livery-punk for the young heir, that must Seal, at all hours, in his shirt: no more, If he deny, have him beaten to't, as he is That brings him the commodity. No more Shall thirst of satin, or the covetous hunger Of velvet entrails for a rude-spun cloke, To be display'd at madam Augusta's, make The sons of Sword and Hazard fall before The 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 have your punks, and punketees, my Surly. 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, His Lungs, his Zephyrus, he that puffs his coals, Till he firk nature up, in her own centre. You are not faithful, sir. This night, I'll change All that is metal, in my house, to gold: And, early in the morning, will I send To all the plumbers and the pewterers, And by their tin and lead up; and to Lothbury For 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 Medicine, Of which one part projected on a hundred Of Mercury, or Venus, or the moon, Shall turn it to as many of the sun; Nay, 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 I Giving them no occasion, sure I'll have A whore, shall piss them 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, 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 Pict-hatch would thank you, That keep the fire alive, there.

MAM. 'Tis the secret Of nature naturis'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 plague Out of the kingdom in three months.

SUR. And I'll Be bound, the players shall sing your praises, then, Without their poets.

MAM. Sir, I'll do't. Mean time, I'll give away so much unto my man, Shall serve the whole city, with preservative Weekly; each house his dose, and at the rate—

SUR. 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. Your stone Cannot transmute me.

MAM. Pertinax, [my] Surly, Will you believe antiquity? records? I'll shew you a book where Moses and his sister, And Solomon have written of the art; Ay, and a treatise penn'd by Adam—

SUR. 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.

SUR. What paper?

MAM. On cedar board.

SUR. O that, indeed, they say, Will last 'gainst worms.

MAM. 'Tis like your Irish wood, 'Gainst cob-webs. I have a piece of Jason's fleece, too, Which was no other than a book of alchemy, Writ in large sheep-skin, 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, the dragon: The dragon's teeth, mercury sublimate, That keeps the whiteness, hardness, and the biting; And they are gathered into Jason's helm, The alembic, and then sow'd in Mars his field, And thence sublimed so often, till they're fixed. Both this, the Hesperian garden, Cadmus' story, Jove's shower, the boon of Midas, Argus' eyes, Boccace his Demogorgon, thousands more, All abstract riddles of our stone. [ENTER FACE, AS A SERVANT.] —How now! 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 ferment Has done his office; three hours hence prepare you To see projection.

MAM. Pertinax, my Surly. Again I say to thee, aloud, Be rich. This day, thou shalt have ingots; and to-morrow, Give lords th' affront.—Is it, my Zephyrus, right? Blushes the bolt's-head?

FACE. Like a wench with child, sir, That were but now discover'd to her master.

MAM. Excellent witty Lungs!—my only care Where to get stuff enough now, to project on; This town will not half serve me.

FACE. No, sir! buy The covering off o' churches.

MAM. That's true.

FACE. Yes. Let them stand bare, as do their auditory; Or cap them, new, with shingles.

MAM. No, good thatch: Thatch will lie light upon the rafters, Lungs.— Lungs, I will manumit thee from the furnace; I will restore thee thy complexion, Puffe, 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 eyes Have 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 descry'd the flower, the sanguis agni?

FACE. Yes, sir.

MAM. Where's master?

FACE. At his prayers, sir, he; Good man, he's doing his devotions For the success.

MAM. Lungs, I will set a period To all thy labours; thou shalt be the master Of my seraglio.

FACE. Good, sir.

MAM. But do you hear? I'll geld you, Lungs.

FACE. Yes, sir.

MAM. For I do mean To have a list of wives and concubines, Equal with Solomon, who had the stone Alike with me; and I will make me a back With the elixir, that shall be as tough As 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 room Fill'd with such pictures as Tiberius took From Elephantis, and dull Aretine But coldly imitated. Then, my glasses Cut in more subtle angles, to disperse And multiply the figures, as I walk Naked between my succubae. My mists I'll have of perfume, vapour'd 'bout the room, To lose ourselves in; and my baths, like pits To fall into; from whence we will come forth, And roll us dry in gossamer and roses.— Is it arrived at ruby?—Where I spy A wealthy citizen, or [a] rich lawyer, Have a sublimed pure wife, unto that fellow I'll send a thousand pound to be my cuckold.

FACE. And I shall carry it?

MAM. No. I'll have no bawds, But fathers and mothers: they will do it best, Best of all others. And my flatterers Shall be the pure and gravest of divines, That I can get for money. My mere fools, Eloquent burgesses, and then my poets The 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 Court and town-stallions, and, each-where, bely Ladies who are known most innocent for them; Those will I beg, to make me eunuchs of: And they shall fan me with ten estrich tails A-piece, made in a plume to gather wind. We will be brave, Puffe, now we have the med'cine. My meat shall all come in, in Indian shells, Dishes of agat set in gold, and studded With emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths, and rubies. The tongues of carps, dormice, and camels' heels, Boil'd in 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, Knots, godwits, lampreys: I myself will have The beards of barbels served, instead of sallads; Oil'd mushrooms; and the swelling unctuous paps Of 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 knight."

FACE. Sir, I'll go look A little, how it heightens.

[EXIT.]

MAM. Do.—My shirts I'll have of taffeta-sarsnet, soft and light As 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, perfumed With gums of paradise, and eastern air—

SUR. 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 frugi, 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 him Do it alone, for me, still. Here he comes. Not a profane word afore him: 'tis poison.— [ENTER SUBTLE.] Good morrow, father.

SUB. Gentle son, good morrow, And 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 doubt You are covetous, that thus you meet your time In the just point: prevent your day at morning. This argues something, worthy of a fear Of importune and carnal appetite. Take heed you do not cause the blessing leave you, With your ungovern'd haste. I should be sorry To see my labours, now even at perfection, Got by long watching and large patience, Not prosper where my love and zeal hath placed 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 charity Now grown a prodigy with men. Wherein If you, my son, should now prevaricate, And, to your own particular lusts employ So great and catholic a bliss, be sure A curse will follow, yea, and overtake Your subtle and most secret ways.

MAM. I know, sir; You shall not need to fear me; I but come, To have you confute this gentleman.

SUR. Who is, Indeed, sir, somewhat costive of belief Toward 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 medicine of the triple soul, The glorified spirit. Thanks be to heaven, And make us worthy of it!—Ulen Spiegel!

FACE [WITHIN]. Anon, sir.

SUB. Look well to the register. And let your heat still lessen by degrees, To the aludels.

FACE [WITHIN]. Yes, sir.

SUB. Did you look On 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 filter'd, And put into the gripe's egg. Lute him well; And leave him closed in balneo.

FACE [WITHIN]. I will, sir.

SUR. What a brave language here is! next to canting.

SUB. I have another work, you never saw, son, That three days since past the philosopher's wheel, In the lent heat of Athanor; and's become Sulphur of Nature.

MAM. But 'tis for me?

SUB. What need you? You have enough in that is perfect.

MAM. O but—

SUB. 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.

[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. Have you another?

SUB. Yes, son; were I assured— Your piety were firm, we would not want The means to glorify it: but I hope the best.— I mean to tinct C in sand-heat to-morrow, And give him imbibition.

MAM. 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 shews lac virginis. Blessed be heaven! I sent you of his faeces there calcined: Out of that calx, I have won the salt of mercury.

MAM. By pouring on your rectified water?

SUB. Yes, and reverberating in Athanor. [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 looked for this. The hay's a pitching.

SUB. Are you sure you loosed them In their own menstrue?

FACE. Yes, sir, and then married them, And put them in a bolt's-head nipp'd to digestion, According as you bade me, when I set The liquor of Mars to circulation In the same heat.

SUB. The process then was right.

FACE. Yes, by the token, sir, the retort brake, And what was saved 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 ferret Is rank as any pole-cat.

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 let Any die now, if I might counsel, sir, For luck's sake to the rest: it is not good.

MAM. He says right.

SUR [ASIDE]. Ay, are you bolted?

FACE. Nay, I know't, sir, I have seen the ill fortune. What is some three ounces Of fresh materials?

MAM. Is't no more?

FACE. No more, sir. Of gold, t'amalgame 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 give 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 two Of our inferior works are at fixation, A third is in ascension. Go your ways. Have 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 sallad!

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 ounces Of any imperfect metal, into pure Silver 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?

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 gentleman 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 you Believe 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 more Than 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 that Our art doth further.

SUB. Ay, for 'twere absurb To think that nature in the earth bred gold Perfect in the instant: something went before. There must be remote matter.

SUR. Ay, what is that?

SUB. Marry, we say—

MAM. Ay, now it heats: stand, father, Pound him to dust.

SUB. It is, of the one part, A humid exhalation, which we call Material liquida, or the unctuous water; On the other part, a certain crass and vicious Portion 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 driness, 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 suddenly Progress so from extreme unto extreme, As to grow gold, and leap o'er all the means. Nature doth first beget the imperfect, then Proceeds she to the perfect. Of that airy And oily water, mercury is engender'd; Sulphur of 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 two Make the rest ductile, malleable, extensive. And even in gold they are; for we do find Seeds of them, by our fire, and gold in them; And can produce the species of each metal More perfect thence, than nature doth in earth. Beside, who doth not see in daily practice Art can beget bees, hornets, beetles, wasps, Out of the carcases and dung of creatures; Yea, scorpions of an herb, being rightly placed? And these are living creatures, far more perfect 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 brayed, sir, I'll believe That Alchemy is a pretty kind of game, Somewhat like tricks o' the cards, to cheat a man With charming.

SUB. Sir?

SUR. What else are all your terms, Whereon no one of 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 materials, Of 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 named, Intending but one thing; which art our writers Used to obscure their art.

MAM. Sir, so I told him— Because the simple idiot should not learn it, And make it vulgar.

SUB. Was not all the knowledge Of the Aegyptians writ in mystic symbols? Speak not the scriptures oft in parables? Are not the choicest fables of the poets, That were the fountains and first springs of wisdom, Wrapp'd in perplexed allegories?

MAM. I urg'd that, And clear'd to him, that Sisyphus was damn'd To roll the ceaseless stone, only because He 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?

[RE-ENTER FACE.]

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 distemper'd: 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.

[EXIT.]

MAM [STOPPING HIM]. Stay, Lungs.

FACE. I dare not, sir.

MAM. Stay, man; what is she?

FACE. A lord's sister, sir.

MAM. How! pray thee, stay.

FACE. She's mad, sir, and sent hither— He'll be mad too.—

MAM. I warrant thee.— Why sent hither?

FACE. Sir, to be cured.

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 will be burnt else.

MAM. O, by this light, no: do not wrong him. He's Too scrupulous that way: it is his vice. No, he's a rare physician, do him right, An excellent Paracelsian, and has done Strange cures with mineral physic. He deals all With spirits, he; he will not hear a word Of Galen; or his tedious recipes.— [RE-ENTER FACE.] How now, Lungs!

FACE. Softly, sir; speak softly. I meant To have told your worship all. This must not hear.

MAM. No, he will not be "gull'd;" let him alone.

FACE. You are very right, sir, she is a most rare scholar, And is gone mad with studying Broughton's works. If you but name a word touching the Hebrew, She falls into her fit, and will discourse So 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 haste, To 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, Ulen, One word.

FACE. I dare not, in good faith. [GOING.]

MAM. Stay, knave.

FACE. He is extreme angry that you saw her, sir.

MAM. Drink that. [GIVES HIM MONEY.] What is she when she's out 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, any thing—

MAM. Is she no way accessible? no means, No trick to give a man a taste of her—wit— Or so?

SUB [WITHIN]. Ulen!

FACE. I'll come to you again, sir.

[EXIT.]

MAM. Surly, I did not think one of your breeding Would 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 letchery 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 brother Has told me all.

SUR. And yet you never saw her Till now!

MAM. O yes, but I forgot. I have, believe it, One of the treacherousest memories, I do think, Of all mankind.

SUR. What call you her brother?

MAM. My lord— He will not have his name known, now I think on't.

SUR. A very treacherous memory!

MAM. On my faith—

SUR. Tut, if you have it not about you, pass it, Till we meet next.

MAM. Nay, by this hand, 'tis true. He's one I honour, and my noble friend; And I respect his house.

SUR. Heart! can it be, That 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 means To gull himself? An this be your elixir, Your lapis mineralis, and your lunary, Give me your honest trick yet at primero, Or gleek; 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.

[RE-ENTER FACE.]

FACE. Here's one from Captain Face, sir, [TO SURLY.] Desires you meet him in the Temple-church, Some half-hour hence, and upon earnest business. Sir, [WHISPERS MAMMON.] if you please to quit us, now; and come Again within two hours, you shall have My master busy examining o' the works; And I will steal you in, unto the party, That you may see her converse.—Sir, shall I say, You'll meet the captain's worship?

SUR. Sir, I will.— [WALKS 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 dealer In these commodities, the superintendant To all the quainter traffickers in town! He is the visitor, and does appoint, Who lies with whom, and at what hour; what price; Which gown, and in what smock; what fall; what tire. Him will I prove, by a third person, to find 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 gentleman has a parlous head.

MAM. But wilt thou Ulen, 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 master May busy himself about projection.

MAM. Thou hast 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 chain With the best lord's vermin of 'em all.

FACE. Away, sir.

MAM. A count, nay, a count palatine—

FACE. Good, sir, go.

MAM. Shall not advance thee better: no, nor faster.

[EXIT.]

[RE-ENTER SUBTLE AND DOL.]

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 man No sooner's taken, but he straight firks mad.

SUB. Dol, my Lord What'ts'hums sister, you must now Bear 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 as 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! Dol, scout, scout! [DOL GOES TO THE WINDOW.] Stay, Face, you must go to the door, 'Pray God it be my anabaptist—Who is't, Dol?

DOL. I know him not: he looks like a gold-endman.

SUB. Ods so! 'tis he, he said he would send what call you him? The sanctified elder, that should deal 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 negociates with me About the stone too, for the holy brethren Of Amsterdam, the exiled saints, that hope To raise their discipline by it. I must use him In some strange fashion, now, to make him admire me.— [ENTER ANANIAS.] [ALOUD.] Where is my drudge?

[RE-ENTER FACE.]

FACE. 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 damnata Must not have entrance in the work.—Who are you?

ANA. A faithful brother, if it please you.

SUB. What's that? A Lullianist? a Ripley? 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? is Ars sacra, Or chrysopoeia, 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 him, Like a philosopher: answer in the language. Name the vexations, and the martyrisations Of metals in the work.

FACE. Sir, putrefaction, Solution, ablution, sublimation, Cohobation, calcination, ceration, and Fixation.

SUB. This is heathen Greek to you, now!— And when comes vivification?

FACE. After mortification.

SUB. What's cohobation?

FACE. 'Tis the pouring on Your 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.

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 dissolved; 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 exiled 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 have Some orphans' goods to come here.

ANA. Of what kind, sir?

SUB. Pewter and brass, andirons and kitchen-ware, Metals, that we must use our medicine on: Wherein the brethren may have a pennyworth For ready money.

ANA. Were the orphans' parents Sincere professors?

SUB. Why do you ask?

ANA. Because We then are to deal justly, and give, in truth, Their utmost value.

SUB. 'Slid, you'd cozen else, And if their parents were not of the faithful!— I will not trust you, now I think on it, 'Till I have talked with your pastor. Have you brought money To buy more coals?

ANA. No, surely.

SUB. No! how so?

ANA. The brethren bid me say unto you, sir, Surely, they will not venture any more, Till they may see projection.

SUB. How!

ANA. You have had, For 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 varlet That cozen'd the apostles! Hence, away! Flee, mischief! had your holy consistory No name to send me, of another sound, Than wicked Ananias? send your elders Hither to make atonement for you quickly, And give me satisfaction; or out goes The fire; and down th' alembics, and the furnace, Piger Henricus, or what not. Thou wretch! Both sericon and bufo shall be lost, Tell them. All hope of rooting out the bishops, Or the antichristian hierarchy, shall perish, If they stay threescore minutes: the aqueity, Terreity, and sulphureity Shall run together again, and all be annull'd, Thou wicked Ananias! [EXIT ANANIAS.] This will fetch 'em, And make them haste towards their gulling more. A man must deal like a rough nurse, and fright Those that are froward, to an appetite.

[RE-ENTER FACE, IN HIS UNIFORM, FOLLOWED BY DRUGGER.]

FACE. He is busy with his spirits, but we'll upon him.

SUB. How now! what mates, what Baiards have we here?

FACE. I told you, he would be furious.—Sir, here's Nab, Has 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.

FACE. 'Slight, do not say so, He will repent he gave 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 name Form'd in some mystic character; whose radii, Striking the senses of the passers by, Shall, by a virtual influence, breed affections, That may result upon the party owns it: As thus—

FACE. Nab!

SUB. He shall have "a bell," that's "Abel;" And by it standing one whose name is "Dee," In 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 more will not do it, Nab. He has brought you a pipe of tobacco, doctor.

DRUG. Yes, sir; I have another thing I would impart—

FACE. Out with it, Nab.

DRUG. Sir, there is lodged, hard by me, A rich young widow—

FACE. Good! a bona roba?

DRUG. But nineteen, at the most.

FACE. Very good, Abel.

DRUG. Marry, she's not in fashion yet; she wears A hood, but it stands a cop.

FACE. No matter, Abel.

DRUG. And I do now and then give her a fucus—

FACE. What! dost thou deal, Nab?

SUB. I did tell you, captain.

DRUG. And physic too, sometime, sir; for which she trusts me With all her mind. She's come up here of purpose To 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 way To heal it, if 'twere hurt; to make it more Follow'd and sought: Nab, thou shalt tell her this. She'll be more known, more talk'd of; and your widows Are 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 marry Under 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 of 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 his land, sir, Scarce cold in his one and twenty, that does govern His sister here; and is a man himself Of some three thousand a year, and is come up To learn to quarrel, and to live by his wits, And will go down again, and die in the country.

FACE. How! to quarrel?

DRUG. Yes, sir, to carry quarrels, As gallants do; to manage them by line.

FACE. 'Slid, Nab, the doctor is the only man In Christendom for him. He has made a table, With mathematical demonstrations, Touching the art of quarrels: he will give him An instrument to quarrel by. Go, bring them both, Him and his sister. And, for thee, with her The doctor happ'ly may persuade. Go to: 'Shalt give his worship a new damask suit Upon 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 them.

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 have The more in goods, the other has in tail.

SUB. Rather the less: for she may be so light She may want grains.

FACE. Ay, or be such a burden, A man would scarce endure her for the whole.

SUB. Faith, best let's see her first, and then determine.

FACE. Content: but Dol must have no breath on't.

SUB. Mum. Away you, to your Surly yonder, catch him.

FACE. 'Pray God I have not staid too long.

SUB. I fear it.

[EXEUNT.]



ACT 3. SCENE 3.1.

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 separation Must bear with willing shoulders, as the trials Sent 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 bears The 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 cause Should have a sanctified course.

TRI. Not always necessary: The children of perdition are oft-times Made 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 intoxicate The 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 antichristian than your bell-founders? What makes the devil so devilish, I would ask you, Sathan, our common enemy, but his being Perpetually about the fire, and boiling Brimstone and arsenic? We must give, I say, Unto the motives, and the stirrers up Of 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 discipline, Against the menstruous cloth and rag of Rome. We must await his calling, and the coming Of the good spirit. You did fault, t' upbraid him With the brethren's blessing of Heidelberg, weighing What need we have to hasten on the work, For the restoring of the silenced saints, Which ne'er will be, but by the philosopher's stone. And so a learned elder, one of Scotland, Assured me; aurum potabile being The only med'cine, for the civil magistrate, T' incline him to a feeling of the cause; And must be daily used 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 3.2.

A ROOM IN LOVEWIT'S HOUSE.

ENTER SUBTLE, FOLLOWED BY TRIBULATION AND ANANIAS.

SUB. O, are you come? 'twas time. Your threescore minutes Were at last thread, you see: and down had gone Furnus acediae, turris circulatorius: Lembec, bolt's-head, retort and pelican Had all been cinders.—Wicked Ananias! Art thou return'd? nay then, it goes down yet.

TRI. Sir, be appeased; he is come to humble Himself in spirit, and to ask your patience, If too much zeal hath carried him aside From the due path.

SUB. Why, this doth qualify!

TRI. The brethren had no purpose, verily, To give you the least grievance; but are ready To lend their willing hands to any project The spirit and you direct.

SUB. This qualifies more!

TRI. And for the orphans' goods, let them be valued, Or what is needful else to the holy work, It shall be numbered; here, by me, the saints, Throw 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? Shew'd you (beside the main of hiring forces Abroad, 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'd Beyond 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 That hath both these, you make them smooth and sound, With a bare fricace of your med'cine: still You increase your friends.

TRI. Ay, it is very pregnant.

SUB. And then the turning of this lawyer's pewter To plate at Christmas.—

ANA. Christ-tide, I pray you.

SUB. Yet, Ananias!

ANA. I have done.

SUB. Or changing His parcel gilt to massy gold. You cannot But raise you friends. Withal, to be of power To pay an army in the field, to buy The king of France out of his realms, or Spain Out of his Indies. What can you not do Against lords spiritual or temporal, That shall oppone you?

TRI. Verily, 'tis true. We may be temporal lords ourselves, I take it.

SUB. You may be any thing, and leave off to make Long-winded exercises; or suck up Your "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 women, And 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 tortured.

TRI. I pray you, sir.

SUB. All shall perish. I have spoken it.

TRI. Let me find grace, sir, in your eyes; the man He stands corrected: neither did his zeal, But as your self, allow a tune somewhere. Which now, being tow'rd the stone, we shall not need.

SUB. No, nor your holy vizard, to win widows To give you legacies; or make zealous wives To 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 cast Before your hungry hearers scrupulous bones; As whether a Christian may hawk or hunt, Or whether matrons of the holy assembly May 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 against the hearing Of the next wire-drawn grace. Nor of necessity Rail against plays, to please the alderman Whose daily custard you devour; nor lie With zealous rage till you are hoarse. Not one Of these so singular arts. Nor call yourselves By names of Tribulation, Persecution, Restraint, Long-patience, and such-like, affected By the whole family or wood of you, Only for glory, and to catch the ear Of the disciple.

TRI. Truly, sir, they are Ways that the godly brethren have invented, For propagation of the glorious cause, As very notable means, and whereby also Themselves grow soon, and profitably, famous.

SUB. O, but the stone, all's idle to it! nothing! The art of angels' nature's miracle, The divine secret that doth fly in clouds From east to west: and whose tradition Is not from men, but spirits.

ANA. I hate traditions; I do not trust them—

TRI. Peace!

ANA. They are popish all. I will not peace: I will not—

TRI. 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, and a man, by revelation, That hath a competent knowledge of the truth.

SUB. Has he a competent sum there in the bag To 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 more To do: cast on the med'cine, so much silver As there is tin there, so much gold as brass, I'll give't 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 days Before he citronise: Some fifteen days, The magisterium will be perfected.

ANA. About the second day of the third week, In the ninth month?

SUB. Yes, my good Ananias.

TRI. What will the orphan's goods arise to, think you?

SUB. Some hundred marks, as much as fill'd three cars, Unladed now: you'll make six millions of them.— But I must have more coals laid in.

TRI. How?

SUB. Another load, And then we have finish'd. We must now increase Our fire to ignis ardens; we are past Fimus equinus, balnei, cineris, And all those lenter heats. If the holy purse Should with this draught fall low, and that the saints Do need a present sum, I have a trick To melt the pewter, you shall buy now, instantly, And with a tincture make you as good Dutch dollars As 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.

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?

[KNOCKING WITHOUT.]

SUB. For that we'll talk anon. 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. [ENTER FACE IN HIS UNIFORM.] How now! good prize?

FACE. Good pox! yond' costive cheater Never came on.

SUB. How then?

FACE. I have walk'd the round Till now, and no such thing.

SUB. And have 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 have 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 dear Delicious compeer, and my party-bawd, Who is come hither private for his conscience, And brought munition with him, six great slops, Bigger than three Dutch hoys, beside round trunks, Furnished with pistolets, and pieces of eight, Will straight be here, my rogue, to have thy bath, (That is the colour,) and to make his battery Upon our Dol, our castle, our cinque-port, 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, For she must milk his epididimis. Where is the doxy?

SUB. I'll send her to thee: And but despatch my brace of little John Leydens, And come again my self.

FACE. Are they within then?

SUB. Numbering the sum.

FACE. How much?

SUB. A hundred marks, boy.

[EXIT.]

FACE. Why, this is a lucky day. Ten pounds of Mammon! Three of my clerk! A portague of my grocer! This of the brethren! beside reversions, And states to come in the widow, and my count! My share to-day will not be bought for forty—

[ENTER DOL.]

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 themselves Safe, by their discipline, against a world, Dol, And laugh'd within those trenches, and grew fat With thinking on the booties, Dol, brought in Daily by their small parties. This dear hour, A doughty don is taken with my Dol; And thou mayst make his ransom what thou wilt, My Dousabel; he shall be brought here fetter'd With thy fair looks, before he sees thee; and thrown In 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 tame As the poor black-birds were in the great frost, Or bees are with a bason; and so hive him In the swan-skin coverlid, and cambric sheets, Till he work honey and wax, my little God's-gift.

DOL. What is he, general?

FACE. An adalantado, A grandee, girl. Was not my Dapper here yet?

DOL. No.

FACE. Nor my Drugger?

DOL. Neither.

FACE. A pox on 'em, They are so long a furnishing! such stinkards Would not be seen upon these festival days.— [RE-ENTER SUBTLE.] How now! have you done?

SUB. Done. They are gone: the sum Is here in bank, my Face. I would we knew Another chapman now would buy 'em outright.

FACE. 'Slid, Nab shall do't against he have the widow, To furnish household.

SUB. Excellent, well thought on: Pray God he come!

FACE. I pray he keep away Till our new business be o'erpast.

SUB. But, Face, How cam'st thou by this secret don?

FACE. A spirit Brought me th' intelligence in a paper here, As I was conjuring yonder in my circle For Surly; I have my flies abroad. Your bath Is famous, Subtle, by my means. Sweet Dol, You must go tune your virginal, no losing O' the least time: and, do you hear? good action. Firk, like a flounder; kiss, like a scallop, close; And tickle him with thy mother tongue. His great Verdugoship has not a jot of language; So much the easier to be cozen'd, my Dolly. He will come here in a hired coach, obscure, And our own coachman, whom I have sent as guide, No creature else. [KNOCKING WITHOUT.] Who's that?

[EXIT DOL.]

SUB. It is not he?

FACE. O no, not yet this hour.

[RE-ENTER DOL.]

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 dispatch 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 are more! 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.] [ENTER DAPPER.] 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 of the dice: He never heard her highness dote till now. Your aunt has given you the most gracious words That can be thought on.

DAP. Shall I see her grace?

FACE. See her, and kiss her too.— [ENTER ABEL, FOLLOWED BY KASTRIL.] 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. Where is the doctor? My mad tobacco-boy, here, tells me of one That can do things: has he any skill?

FACE. Wherein, sir?

KAS. To carry a business, manage a quarrel fairly, Upon fit terms.

FACE. It seems, sir, you are but young About the town, that can make that a question.

KAS. Sir, not so young, but I have heard some speech Of the angry boys, and seen them take tobacco; And in his shop; and I can take it too. And I would fain be one of 'em, and go down And practise in the country.

FACE. Sir, for the duello, The doctor, I assure you, shall inform you, To the least shadow of a hair; and shew you An instrument he has of his own making, Wherewith no sooner shall you make report Of any quarrel, but he will take the height on't Most instantly, and tell in what degree Of 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 Into an angle blunt, if not acute: And this he will demonstrate. And then, rules To give and take the lie by.

KAS. How! to take it?

FACE. Yes, in oblique he'll shew you, or in circle; But never in diameter. The whole town Study his theorems, and dispute them ordinarily At the eating academies.

KAS. But does he teach Living 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 of your standing, 'fore I met with him; It is 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 be A 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 vented Six 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 gentleman Is born to nothing,— [POINTS TO DAPPER.] forty marks a year, Which I count nothing:—he is to be initiated, And have a fly of the doctor. He will win you, By unresistible luck, within this fortnight, Enough to buy a barony. They will set him Upmost, at the groom porter's, all the Christmas: And for the whole year through, at every place, Where there is play, present him with the chair; The best attendance, the best drink; sometimes Two glasses of Canary, and pay nothing; The purest linen, and the sharpest knife, The partridge next his trencher: and somewhere The dainty bed, in private, with the dainty. You shall have your ordinaries bid for him, As play-houses for a poet; and the master Pray him aloud to name what dish he affects, Which must be butter'd shrimps: and those that drink To no mouth else, will drink to his, as being The 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 get In 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 admired 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, when small money is stirring, And ordinaries suspended till the term, He'll shew a perspective, where on one side You shall behold the faces and the persons Of all sufficient young heirs in town, Whose bonds are current for commodity; On th' other side, the merchants' forms, and others, That without help of any second broker, Who would expect a share, will trust such parcels: In the third square, the very street and sign Where the commodity dwells, and does but wait To be deliver'd, be it pepper, soap, Hops, or tobacco, oatmeal, woad, or cheeses. All which you may so handle, to enjoy To your own use, and never stand obliged.

KAS. I'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 tavern But once in's life!

DRUG. Truth, and no more I was not.

FACE. And then he was so sick—

DRUG. 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 stomach—

FACE. And he has no head To bear any wine; for what with the noise of the fidlers, And care of his shop, for he dares keep no servants—

DRUG. My head did so ach—

FACE. And he was fain to be brought home, The doctor told me: and then a good old woman—

DRUG. Yes, faith, she dwells in Sea-coal-lane,—did cure me, With sodden ale, and pellitory of the wall; Cost me but two-pence. I had another sickness Was worse than that.

FACE. Ay, that was with the grief Thou took'st for being cess'd at eighteen-pence, For the water-work.

DRUG. In truth, and it was like T' have cost me almost my life.

FACE. Thy hair went off?

DRUG. Yes, sir; 'twas done for spight.

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.

KAS. I go.

[EXIT.]

FACE. Drugger, she's thine: the damask!— [EXIT ABEL.] Subtle and I Must wrestle for her. [ASIDE.] —Come on, master Dapper, You see how I turn clients here away, To give your cause dispatch; have you perform'd The ceremonies were enjoin'd you?

DAP. Yes, of the vinegar, And the clean shirt.

FACE. 'Tis well: that shirt may do you More worship than you think. Your aunt's a-fire, But that she will not shew it, t' have a sight of you. Have you provided for her grace's servants?

DAP. Yes, here are six score Edward shillings.

FACE. Good!

DAP. And an old Harry's sovereign.

FACE. Very good!

DAP. And three James shillings, and an Elizabeth groat, Just twenty nobles.

FACE. O, you are too just. I would you had had the other noble in Maries.

DAP. I have some Philip and Maries.

FACE. Ay, those same Are best of all: where are they? Hark, the doctor.

[ENTER SUBTLE, DISGUISED LIKE A PRIEST OF FAIRY, WITH A STRIPE OF CLOTH.]

SUB [IN A FEIGNED VOICE]. Is yet her grace's cousin come?

FACE. He is come.

SUB. And is he fasting?

FACE. Yes.

SUB. And hath cried hum?

FACE. Thrice, you must answer.

DAP. Thrice.

SUB. And as oft buz?

FACE. If you have, say.

DAP. I have.

SUB. Then, to her cuz, Hoping that he hath vinegar'd his senses, As he was bid, the Fairy queen dispenses, By me, this robe, the petticoat of fortune; Which that he straight put on, she doth importune. And though to fortune near be her petticoat, Yet nearer is her smock, the queen doth note: And therefore, ev'n of that a piece she hath sent Which, being a child, to wrap him in was rent; And prays him for a scarf he now will wear it, With as much love as then her grace did tear it, About his eyes, [THEY BLIND HIM WITH THE RAG,] to shew he is fortunate. And, trusting unto her to make his state, He'll throw away all worldly pelf about him; Which that he will perform, she doth not doubt him.

FACE. She need not doubt him, sir. Alas, he has nothing, But what he will part withal as willingly, Upon her grace's word—throw away your purse— As she would ask it;—handkerchiefs and all— [HE THROWS AWAY, AS THEY BID HIM.] She cannot bid that thing, but he'll obey.— If you have a ring about you, cast it off, Or a silver seal at your wrist; her grace will send Her fairies here to search you, therefore deal Directly with her highness: if they find That you conceal a mite, you are undone.

DAP. Truly, there's all.

FACE. All what?

DAP. My money; truly.

FACE. Keep nothing that is transitory about you. [ASIDE TO SUBTLE.] Bid Dol play music.— [DOL PLAYS ON THE CITTERN WITHIN.] Look, the elves are come. To pinch you, if you tell not truth. Advise you.

[THEY PINCH HIM.]

DAP. O! I have a paper with a spur-ryal in't.

FACE. Ti, ti. They knew't, they say.

SUB. Ti, ti, ti, ti. He has more yet.

FACE. Ti, ti-ti-ti. [ASIDE TO SUB.] In the other pocket.

SUB. Titi, titi, titi, titi, titi. They must pinch him or he will never confess, they say.

[THEY PINCH HIM AGAIN.]

DAP. O, O!

FACE. Nay, pray you, hold: he is her grace's nephew, Ti, ti, ti? What care you? good faith, you shall care.— Deal plainly, sir, and shame the fairies. Shew You are innocent.

DAP. By this good light, I have nothing.

SUB. Ti, ti, ti, ti, to, ta. He does equivocate she says: Ti, ti do ti, ti ti do, ti da; and swears by the LIGHT when he is blinded.

DAP. By this good DARK, I have nothing but a half-crown Of gold about my wrist, that my love gave me; And a leaden heart I wore since she forsook me.

FACE. I thought 'twas something. And would you incur Your aunt's displeasure for these trifles? Come, I had rather you had thrown away twenty half-crowns. [TAKES IT OFF.] You may wear your leaden heart still.— [ENTER DOL HASTILY.] How now!

SUB. What news, Dol?

DOL. Yonder's your knight, sir Mammon.

FACE. 'Ods lid, we never thought of him till now! Where is he?

DOL. Here hard by: he is at the door.

SUB. And you are not ready now! Dol, get his suit. [EXIT DOL.] He must not be sent back.

FACE. O, by no means. What shall we do with this same puffin here, Now he's on the spit?

SUB. Why, lay him back awhile, With some device. [RE-ENTER DOL, WITH FACE'S CLOTHES.] —Ti, ti, ti, ti, ti, ti, Would her grace speak with me? I come.—Help, Dol!

[KNOCKING WITHOUT.]

FACE [SPEAKS THROUGH THE KEYHOLE]. Who's there? sir Epicure, My master's in the way. Please you to walk Three or four turns, but till his back be turned, And I am for you.—Quickly, Dol!

SUB. Her grace Commends her kindly to you, master Dapper.

DAP. I long to see her grace.

SUB. She now is set At dinner in her bed, and she has sent you From her own private trencher, a dead mouse, And a piece of gingerbread, to be merry withal, And stay your stomach, lest you faint with fasting: Yet if you could hold out till she saw you, she says, It would be better for you.

FACE. Sir, he shall Hold out, an 'twere this two hours, for her highness; I can assure you that. We will not lose All we have done.—

SUB. He must not see, nor speak To any body, till then.

FACE. For that we'll put, sir, A stay in's mouth.

SUB. Of what?

FACE. Of gingerbread. Make you it fit. He that hath pleas'd her grace Thus far, shall not now crincle for a little.— Gape, sir, and let him fit you.

[THEY THRUST A GAG OF GINGERBREAD IN HIS MOUTH.]

SUB. Where shall we now Bestow him?

DOL. In the privy.

SUB. Come along, sir, I now must shew you Fortune's privy lodgings.

FACE. Are they perfumed, and his bath ready?

SUB. All: Only the fumigation's somewhat strong.

FACE [SPEAKING THROUGH THE KEYHOLE]. Sir Epicure, I am yours, sir, by and by.

[EXEUNT WITH DAPPER.]



ACT 4. SCENE 4.1.

A ROOM IN LOVEWIT'S HOUSE.

ENTER FACE AND MAMMON.

FACE. O sir, you're come in the only finest time.—

MAM. Where's master?

FACE. Now preparing for projection, sir. Your stuff will be all changed shortly.

MAM. Into gold?

FACE. To gold and silver, sir.

MAM. Silver I care not for.

FACE. Yes, sir, a little to give beggars.

MAM. Where's the lady?

FACE. At hand here. I have told her such brave things of you, Touching your bounty, and your noble spirit—

MAM. Hast thou?

FACE. As she is almost in her fit to see you. But, good sir, no divinity in your conference, For fear of putting her in rage.—

MAM. I warrant thee.

FACE. Six men [sir] will not hold her down: and then, If the old man should hear or see you—

MAM. Fear not.

FACE. The very house, sir, would run mad. You know it, How scrupulous he is, and violent, 'Gainst the least act of sin. Physic, or mathematics, Poetry, state, or bawdry, as I told you, She will endure, and never startle; but No word of controversy.

MAM. I am school'd, good Ulen.

FACE. And you must praise her house, remember that, And her nobility.

MAM. Let me alone: No herald, no, nor antiquary, Lungs, Shall do it better. Go.

FACE [ASIDE]. Why, this is yet A kind of modern happiness, to have Dol Common for a great lady.

[EXIT.]

MAM. Now, Epicure, Heighten thyself, talk to her all in gold; Rain her as many showers as Jove did drops Unto his Danae; shew the god a miser, Compared with Mammon. What! the stone will do't.

She shall feel gold, taste gold, hear gold, sleep gold; Nay, we will concumbere gold: I will be puissant, And mighty in my talk to her.— [RE-ENTER FACE, WITH DOL RICHLY DRESSED.] Here she comes.

FACE. To him, Dol, suckle him.—This is the noble knight, I told your ladyship—

MAM. Madam, with your pardon, I kiss your vesture.

DOL. Sir, I were uncivil If I would suffer that; my lip to you, sir.

MAM. I hope my lord your brother be in health, lady.

DOL. My lord, my brother is, though I no lady, sir.

FACE [ASIDE]. Well said, my Guinea bird.

MAM. Right noble madam—

FACE [ASIDE]. O, we shall have most fierce idolatry.

MAM. 'Tis your prerogative.

DOL. Rather your courtesy.

MAM. Were there nought else to enlarge your virtues to me, These answers speak your breeding and your blood.

DOL. Blood we boast none, sir, a poor baron's daughter.

MAM. Poor! and gat you? profane not. Had your father Slept all the happy remnant of his life After that act, lien but there still, and panted, He had done enough to make himself, his issue, And his posterity noble.

DOL. Sir, although We may be said to want the gilt and trappings, The dress of honour, yet we strive to keep The seeds and the materials.

MAM. I do see The old ingredient, virtue, was not lost, Nor the drug money used to make your compound. There is a strange nobility in your eye, This lip, that chin! methinks you do resemble One of the Austriac princes.

FACE. Very like! [ASIDE.] Her father was an Irish costermonger.

MAM. The house of Valois just had such a nose, And such a forehead yet the Medici Of Florence boast.

DOL. Troth, and I have been liken'd To all these princes.

FACE [ASIDE]. I'll be sworn, I heard it.

MAM. I know not how! it is not any one, But e'en the very choice of all their features.

FACE [ASIDE]. I'll in, and laugh.

[EXIT.]

MAM. A certain touch, or air, That sparkles a divinity, beyond An earthly beauty!

DOL. O, you play the courtier.

MAM. Good lady, give me leave—

DOL. In faith, I may not, To mock me, sir.

MAM. To burn in this sweet flame; The phoenix never knew a nobler death.

DOL. Nay, now you court the courtier, and destroy What you would build. This art, sir, in your words, Calls your whole faith in question.

MAM. By my soul—

DOL. Nay, oaths are made of the same air, sir.

MAM. Nature Never bestow'd upon mortality A more unblamed, a more harmonious feature; She play'd the step-dame in all faces else: Sweet Madam, let me be particular—

DOL. Particular, sir! I pray you know your distance.

MAM. In no ill sense, sweet lady; but to ask How your fair graces pass the hours? I see You are lodged here, in the house of a rare man, An excellent artist; but what's that to you?

DOL. Yes, sir; I study here the mathematics, And distillation.

MAM. O, I cry your pardon. He's a divine instructor! can extract The souls of all things by his art; call all The virtues, and the miracles of the sun, Into a temperate furnace; teach dull nature What her own forces are. A man, the emperor Has courted above Kelly; sent his medals And chains, to invite him.

DOL. Ay, and for his physic, sir—

MAM. Above the art of Aesculapius, That drew the envy of the thunderer! I know all this, and more.

DOL. Troth, I am taken, sir, Whole with these studies, that contemplate nature.

MAM. It is a noble humour; but this form Was not intended to so dark a use. Had you been crooked, foul, of some coarse mould A cloister had done well; but such a feature That might stand up the glory of a kingdom, To live recluse! is a mere soloecism, Though in a nunnery. It must not be. I muse, my lord your brother will permit it: You should spend half my land first, were I he. Does not this diamond better on my finger, Than in the quarry?

DOL. Yes.

MAM. Why, you are like it. You were created, lady, for the light. Here, you shall wear it; take it, the first pledge Of what I speak, to bind you to believe me.

DOL. In chains of adamant?

MAM. Yes, the strongest bands. And take a secret too—here, by your side, Doth stand this hour, the happiest man in Europe.

DOL. You are contended, sir!

MAM. Nay, in true being, The envy of princes and the fear of states.

DOL. Say you so, sir Epicure?

MAM. Yes, and thou shalt prove it, Daughter of honour. I have cast mine eye Upon thy form, and I will rear this beauty Above all styles.

DOL. You mean no treason, sir?

MAM. No, I will take away that jealousy. I am the lord of the philosopher's stone, And thou the lady.

DOL. How, sir! have you that?

MAM. I am the master of the mystery. This day the good old wretch here o' the house Has made it for us: now he's at projection. Think therefore thy first wish now, let me hear it; And it shall rain into thy lap, no shower, But floods of gold, whole cataracts, a deluge, To get a nation on thee.

DOL. You are pleased, sir, To work on the ambition of our sex.

MAM. I am pleased the glory of her sex should know, This nook, here, of the Friars is no climate For her to live obscurely in, to learn Physic and surgery, for the constable's wife Of some odd hundred in Essex; but come forth, And taste the air of palaces; eat, drink The toils of empirics, and their boasted practice; Tincture of pearl, and coral, gold, and amber; Be seen at feasts and triumphs; have it ask'd, What miracle she is; set all the eyes Of court a-fire, like a burning glass, And work them into cinders, when the jewels Of twenty states adorn thee, and the light Strikes out the stars! that when thy name is mention'd, Queens may look pale; and we but shewing our love, Nero's Poppaea may be lost in story! Thus will we have it.

DOL. I could well consent, sir. But, in a monarchy, how will this be? The prince will soon take notice, and both seize You and your stone, it being a wealth unfit For any private subject.

MAM. If he knew it.

DOL. Yourself do boast it, sir.

MAM. To thee, my life.

DOL. O, but beware, sir! You may come to end The remnants of your days in a loth'd prison, By speaking of it.

MAM. 'Tis no idle fear. We'll therefore go withal, my girl, and live In a free state, where we will eat our mullets, Soused in high-country wines, sup pheasants' eggs, And have our cockles boil'd in silver shells; Our shrimps to swim again, as when they liv'd, In a rare butter made of dolphins' milk, Whose cream does look like opals; and with these Delicate meats set ourselves high for pleasure, And take us down again, and then renew Our youth and strength with drinking the elixir, And so enjoy a perpetuity Of life and lust! And thou shalt have thy wardrobe Richer than nature's, still to change thy self, And vary oftener, for thy pride, than she, Or art, her wise and almost-equal servant.

[RE-ENTER FACE.]

FACE. Sir, you are too loud. I hear you every word Into the laboratory. Some fitter place; The garden, or great chamber above. How like you her?

MAM. Excellent! Lungs. There's for thee.

[GIVES HIM MONEY.]

FACE. But do you hear? Good sir, beware, no mention of the rabbins.

MAM. We think not on 'em.

[EXEUNT MAM. AND DOL.]

FACE. O, it is well, sir.—Subtle! [ENTER SUBTLE.] Dost thou not laugh?

SUB. Yes; are they gone?

FACE. All's clear.

SUB. The widow is come.

FACE. And your quarrelling disciple?

SUB. Ay.

FACE. I must to my captainship again then.

SUB. Stay, bring them in first.

FACE. So I meant. What is she? A bonnibel?

SUB. I know not.

FACE. We'll draw lots: You'll stand to that?

SUB. What else?

FACE. O, for a suit, To fall now like a curtain, flap!

SUB. To the door, man.

FACE. You'll have the first kiss, 'cause I am not ready.

[EXIT.]

SUB. Yes, and perhaps hit you through both the nostrils.

FACE [WITHIN]. Who would you speak with?

KAS [WITHIN]. Where's the captain?

FACE [WITHIN]. Gone, sir, About some business.

KAS [WITHIN]. Gone!

FACE [WITHIN]. He'll return straight. But master doctor, his lieutenant, is here.

[ENTER KASTRIL, FOLLOWED BY DAME PLIANT.]

SUB. Come near, my worshipful boy, my terrae fili, That is, my boy of land; make thy approaches: Welcome; I know thy lusts, and thy desires, And I will serve and satisfy them. Begin, Charge me from thence, or thence, or in this line; Here is my centre: ground thy quarrel.

KAS. You lie.

SUB. How, child of wrath and anger! the loud lie? For what, my sudden boy?

KAS. Nay, that look you to, I am afore-hand.

SUB. O, this is no true grammar, And as ill logic! You must render causes, child, Your first and second intentions, know your canons And your divisions, moods, degrees, and differences, Your predicaments, substance, and accident, Series, extern and intern, with their causes, Efficient, material, formal, final, And have your elements perfect.

KAS [ASIDE]. What is this? The angry tongue he talks in?

SUB. That false precept, Of being afore-hand, has deceived a number, And made them enter quarrels, often-times, Before they were aware; and afterward, Against their wills.

KAS. How must I do then, sir?

SUB. I cry this lady mercy: she should first Have been saluted. [KISSES HER.] I do call you lady, Because you are to be one, ere't be long, My soft and buxom widow.

KAS. Is she, i'faith?

SUB. Yes, or my art is an egregious liar.

KAS. How know you?

SUB. By inspection on her forehead, And subtlety of her lip, which must be tasted Often to make a judgment. [KISSES HER AGAIN.] 'Slight, she melts Like a myrobolane:—here is yet a line, In rivo frontis, tells me he is no knight.

DAME P. What is he then, sir?

SUB. Let me see your hand. O, your linea fortunae makes it plain; And stella here in monte Veneris. But, most of all, junctura annularis. He is a soldier, or a man of art, lady, But shall have some great honour shortly.

DAME P. Brother, He's a rare man, believe me!

[RE-ENTER FACE, IN HIS UNIFORM.]

KAS. Hold your peace. Here comes the t'other rare man.—'Save you, captain.

FACE. Good master Kastril! Is this your sister?

KAS. Ay, sir. Please you to kuss her, and be proud to know her.

FACE. I shall be proud to know you, lady.

[KISSES HER.]

DAME P. Brother, He calls me lady too.

KAS. Ay, peace: I heard it.

[TAKES HER ASIDE.]

FACE. The count is come.

SUB. Where is he?

FACE. At the door.

SUB. Why, you must entertain him.

FACE. What will you do With these the while?

SUB. Why, have them up, and shew them Some fustian book, or the dark glass.

FACE. 'Fore God, She is a delicate dab-chick! I must have her.

[EXIT.]

SUB. Must you! ay, if your fortune will, you must.— Come, sir, the captain will come to us presently: I'll have you to my chamber of demonstrations, Where I will shew you both the grammar and logic, And rhetoric of quarrelling; my whole method Drawn out in tables; and my instrument, That hath the several scales upon't, shall make you Able to quarrel at a straw's-breadth by moon-light. And, lady, I'll have you look in a glass, Some half an hour, but to clear your eye-sight, Against you see your fortune; which is greater, Than I may judge upon the sudden, trust me.

[EXIT, FOLLOWED BY KAST. AND DAME P.]

[RE-ENTER FACE.]

FACE. Where are you, doctor?

SUB [WITHIN]. I'll come to you presently.

FACE. I will have this same widow, now I have seen her, On any composition.

[RE-ENTER SUBTLE.]

SUB. What do you say?

FACE. Have you disposed of them?

SUB. I have sent them up.

FACE. Subtle, in troth, I needs must have this widow.

SUB. Is that the matter?

FACE. Nay, but hear me.

SUB. Go to. If you rebel once, Dol shall know it all: Therefore be quiet, and obey your chance.

FACE. Nay, thou art so violent now—Do but conceive, Thou art old, and canst not serve—

SUB. Who cannot? I? 'Slight, I will serve her with thee, for a—

FACE. Nay, But understand: I'll give you composition.

SUB. I will not treat with thee; what! sell my fortune? 'Tis better than my birth-right. Do not murmur: Win her, and carry her. If you grumble, Dol Knows it directly.

FACE. Well, sir, I am silent. Will you go help to fetch in Don in state?

[EXIT.]

SUB. I follow you, sir. We must keep Face in awe, Or he will over-look us like a tyrant. [RE-ENTER FACE, INTRODUCING SURLY DISGUISED AS A SPANIARD.] Brain of a tailor! who comes here? Don John!

SUR. Senores, beso las manos a vuestras mercedes.

SUB. Would you had stoop'd a little, and kist our anos!

FACE. Peace, Subtle.

SUB. Stab me; I shall never hold, man. He looks in that deep ruff like a head in a platter, Serv'd in by a short cloke upon two trestles.

FACE. Or, what do you say to a collar of brawn, cut down Beneath the souse, and wriggled with a knife?

SUB. 'Slud, he does look too fat to be a Spaniard.

FACE. Perhaps some Fleming or some Hollander got him In d'Alva's time; count Egmont's bastard.

SUB. Don, Your scurvy, yellow, Madrid face is welcome.

SUR. Gratia.

SUB. He speaks out of a fortification. Pray God he have no squibs in those deep sets.

SUR. Por dios, senores, muy linda casa!

SUB. What says he?

FACE. Praises the house, I think; I know no more but's action.

SUB. Yes, the casa, My precious Diego, will prove fair enough To cozen you in. Do you mark? you shall Be cozen'd, Diego.

FACE. Cozen'd, do you see, My worthy Donzel, cozen'd.

SUR. Entiendo.

SUB. Do you intend it? so do we, dear Don. Have you brought pistolets, or portagues, My solemn Don?—Dost thou feel any?

FACE [FEELS HIS POCKETS]. Full.

SUB. You shall be emptied, Don, pumped and drawn Dry, as they say.

FACE. Milked, in troth, sweet Don.

SUB. See all the monsters; the great lion of all, Don.

SUR. Con licencia, se puede ver a esta senora?

SUB. What talks he now?

FACE. Of the sennora.

SUB. O, Don, This is the lioness, which you shall see Also, my Don.

FACE. 'Slid, Subtle, how shall we do?

SUB. For what?

FACE. Why Dol's employ'd, you know.

SUB. That's true. 'Fore heaven, I know not: he must stay, that's all.

FACE. Stay! that he must not by no means.

SUB. No! why?

FACE. Unless you'll mar all. 'Slight, he will suspect it: And then he will not pay, not half so well. This is a travelled punk-master, and does know All the delays; a notable hot rascal, And looks already rampant.

SUB. 'Sdeath, and Mammon Must not be troubled.

FACE. Mammon! in no case.

SUB. What shall we do then?

FACE. Think: you must be sudden.

SUR. Entiendo que la senora es tan hermosa, que codicio tan verla, como la bien aventuranza de mi vida.

FACE. Mi vida! 'Slid, Subtle, he puts me in mind of the widow. What dost thou say to draw her to it, ha! And tell her 'tis her fortune? all our venture Now lies upon't. It is but one man more, Which of us chance to have her: and beside, There is no maidenhead to be fear'd or lost. What dost thou think on't, Subtle?

SUB. Who? I? why—

FACE. The credit of our house too is engaged.

SUB. You made me an offer for my share erewhile. What wilt thou give me, i'faith?

FACE. O, by that light I'll not buy now: You know your doom to me. E'en take your lot, obey your chance, sir; win her, And wear her out, for me.

SUB. 'Slight, I'll not work her then.

FACE. It is the common cause; therefore bethink you. Dol else must know it, as you said.

SUB. I care not.

SUR. Senores, porque se tarda tanto?

SUB. Faith, I am not fit, I am old.

FACE. That's now no reason, sir.

SUR. Puede ser de hazer burla de mi amor?

FACE. You hear the Don too? by this air, I call, And loose the hinges: Dol!

SUB. A plague of hell—

FACE. Will you then do?

SUB. You are a terrible rogue! I'll think of this: will you, sir, call the widow?

FACE. Yes, and I'll take her too with all her faults, Now I do think on't better.

SUB. With all my heart, sir; Am I discharged o' the lot?

FACE. As you please.

SUB. Hands.

[THEY TAKE HANDS.]

FACE. Remember now, that upon any change, You never claim her.

SUB. Much good joy, and health to you, sir, Marry a whore! fate, let me wed a witch first.

SUR. Por estas honradas barbas—

SUB. He swears by his beard. Dispatch, and call the brother too.

[EXIT FACE.]

SUR. Tengo duda, senores, que no me hagan alguna traycion.

SUB. How, issue on? yes, praesto, sennor. Please you Enthratha the chambrata, worthy don: Where if you please the fates, in your bathada, You shall be soked, and stroked, and tubb'd and rubb'd, And scrubb'd, and fubb'd, dear don, before you go. You shall in faith, my scurvy baboon don, Be curried, claw'd, and flaw'd, and taw'd, indeed. I will the heartlier go about it now, And make the widow a punk so much the sooner, To be revenged on this impetuous Face: The quickly doing of it is the grace.

[EXEUNT SUB. AND SURLY.]

SCENE 4.2.

ANOTHER ROOM IN THE SAME.

ENTER FACE, KASTRIL, AND DAME PLIANT.

FACE. Come, lady: I knew the Doctor would not leave, Till he had found the very nick of her fortune.

KAS. To be a countess, say you, a Spanish countess, sir?

DAME P. Why, is that better than an English countess?

FACE. Better! 'Slight, make you that a question, lady?

KAS. Nay, she is a fool, captain, you must pardon her.

FACE. Ask from your courtier, to your inns-of-court-man, To your mere milliner; they will tell you all, Your Spanish gennet is the best horse; your Spanish Stoup is the best garb; your Spanish beard Is the best cut; your Spanish ruffs are the best Wear; your Spanish pavin the best dance; Your Spanish titillation in a glove The best perfume: and for your Spanish pike, And Spanish blade, let your poor captain speak— Here comes the doctor.

[ENTER SUBTLE, WITH A PAPER.]

SUB. My most honour'd lady, For so I am now to style you, having found By this my scheme, you are to undergo An honourable fortune, very shortly. What will you say now, if some—

FACE. I have told her all, sir, And her right worshipful brother here, that she shall be A countess; do not delay them, sir; a Spanish countess.

SUB. Still, my scarce-worshipful captain, you can keep No secret! Well, since he has told you, madam, Do you forgive him, and I do.

KAS. She shall do that, sir; I'll look to it, 'tis my charge.

SUB. Well then: nought rests But that she fit her love now to her fortune.

DAME P. Truly I shall never brook a Spaniard.

SUB. No!

DAME P. Never since eighty-eight could I abide them, And that was some three year afore I was born, in truth.

SUB. Come, you must love him, or be miserable, Choose which you will.

FACE. By this good rush, persuade her, She will cry strawberries else within this twelvemonth.

SUB. Nay, shads and mackerel, which is worse.

FACE. Indeed, sir!

KAS. Od's lid, you shall love him, or I'll kick you.

DAME P. Why, I'll do as you will have me, brother.

KAS. Do, Or by this hand I'll maul you.

FACE. Nay, good sir, Be not so fierce.

SUB. No, my enraged child; She will be ruled. What, when she comes to taste The pleasures of a countess! to be courted—

FACE. And kiss'd, and ruffled!

SUB. Ay, behind the hangings.

FACE. And then come forth in pomp!

SUB. And know her state!

FACE. Of keeping all the idolaters of the chamber Barer to her, than at their prayers!