THE ALCHEMIST.

VVritten by BEN. IONSON.

—Neque, me vt miretur turba, laboro:
Contentus paucis lectoribus.

LONDON, Printed by Thomas Snodham, for Walter Burre, and are to be sold by Iohn Stepneth, at the West-end of Paules. 1612.

To the Lady, most aequall with vertue, and her Blood: The Grace, and Glory of women. MARY LA: WROTH.

Madame,

IN the Age of Sacrifices, the truth of Religion was not in the greatnes, and fat of the Offrings, but in the deuotion, and zeale of the Sacrificers: Else, what could a handful of Gummes haue done in the sight of a Hecatombe? Or how, yet, might a gratefull minde be furnish'd against the iniquitie of Fortune; except, when she fail'd it, it had power to im­part it selfe? A way found out, to ouer­come euen those, whom Fortune hath enabled to returne most, since they, yet leaue themseluesmore. In this assurance am I planted; and stand with those af­fections [Page] at this Altar, as shall no more auoide the light and witnesse, then they doe the conscience of your vertue. If what [...] offer beare an acceptable odour, & hold the first strength: It is your va­lew, thatremembers, where, when, and to whom it was kindled. Otherwise, in these times, there comes rarely forth that thing, so full of authoritie, o [...] example, but by daylinesse and custome, growes lesse, and looses. But this, safe in your iudgement (which is a SIDNEYS) is for­bidden to speake more; least it talke, or looke like one of the ambitious Faces of the time: who, the more they paint, are the lesse themselues.

Your La: true honorer. Ben. Ionson.

TO THE READER.

IF thou beest more, thou art an Vnderstander, and then Itrust thee. If thou art one that tak'st vp, and but a Pretender, beware at what hands thou receiu'st thy commoditie; for thou wert neuer more fair in theway to be co [...]ned (then in this Age, in Poetry, especially in Playes: wherein, now, the Concupis­cence of [...]ges, and Daunces so raigneth, as to runne away from Nature, and be afraid of her, is the onely point of art that tickles the Spectators. But how out of purpose, and place, doe I name Art? when the Professors are growne so obstinate contemners of it, and presumers on their owne Naturalls, as they are deriders of all diligence that way, and, by simple mocking at the termes, when they vnderstand not the things, thinke to get of wittily with their Ignorance. Nay, they are esteem'd the more learned, and sufficient for this, by the Multitude, through their excellent vice of iudgement. For they commend Writers, as they doe Fencers, or Wrastlers; who if they come in robustuously, and put for it with a great deale of violence, are receiu'd for the brauer fellowes: when many times their owne rudenesse is the cause of their disgrace, and a little touch of their Aduersary giues all that boisterous force the foyle, I deny not, but that these men, who alwaies seeke to doe more then inough, may some time happen on some thing that is good, and great; but very seldome: And when it comes it doth not recompen [...] the rest of their ill. It sticks out perhaps, and is more eminent, because all is sordide, and vile about it: as lights are more discern'd in a thick darknesse, then a faint shadow. I speake not this, out of a hope to doe good on any man, against his will; for I know, if it were put to the question of theirs, and mine, the worse would finde more suffrages: [Page] because the most fauour common errors. But I giue thee this warning, that there is a great difference betweene those, that (to gain the opinion of Copie) vtter all they can, how cuer vn­fitly; and those that vse election, and a meane. For it is onely the disease of the vnskilfull, to thinke rude things greater then polish'd: or scatter'd more numerous then compos'd.

To my friend, M r. Ben: Ionson. vpon his Alchemist.

A Master, read in flatteries great skill,
Could not passe truth, though he would force his will,
By praising this too much, to get more praise
In his Art, then you out of yours doe raise.
Nor can full truth be vttered of your worth,
Vnlesse you your owne praises doe set forth:
None else can write so skilfully, to shew
Your praise: Ages shall pay, yet still must owe.
All I dare say, is, you haue written well,
In what exceeding height, I dare not tell.
George Lucy.

The Persons of the Comoedie.

SVBTLE.
The Alchemist.
FACE.
The House-keeper.
DOL:
Common. Their Colleague.
DAPPER.
A Clearke.
DRVGGER.
A Tabacco-man.
LOVE-Wit.
Master of the House.
EPICVRE MAMMON.
A Knight.
SVRLY.
A Gamster.
TRIBVLATION.
A Pastorof Amstredam.
ANANIAS.
A Deacon there.
KASTRIL.
The Angry Boy.
Da: PLIANT.
His sister: A Widdow.
Neighbours.
Officers.
Mutes.

THE ARGVMENT.

T he Sicknesse hot, A Master quit, for feare,
H is House in Towne: and left one Seruant there.
E ase him corrupted, and gaue meanes to know
A Cheater, and his Punque; who now brought low,
L eauing their narrow practise, were become
C os'ners at large: and, onely wanting some
H ouse to set vp, with him they here contract,
E ach for a share, and all begin to act.
M uch company they draw, and much abuse
I n casting Figures, telling Fortunes, Newes,
S elling of Flyes, flat Bawdry, with the Stone:
T ill It, and They, and All in fume are gone.

THE PROLOGVE.

FOrtune, that fauours Fooles, these two short howers
We wish away; both for your sakes, and ours,
Iudging Spectators: and desire in place,
To th' Author iustice, to our selues but grase.
Our Scene is LONDON, 'cause we would make knowne.
No Countries mirth is better then our owne.
No Clime breedes better matter, for your Whore,
Baud, Squire, Impostor, many Persons more,
Whose manners, now call'd Humors, feede the Stage:
And which haue still beene Subiect, to the rage
Or spleene of Comick writers. Though this Pen
Did neuer ayme to grieue, but better Men;
How e'er the Age, he liues in, doth endure
The vices that she breedes, aboue their cure.
But, when the wholsome remedies are sweet,
And, in their working, Game, and Profit meete,
He hopes to finde no spirit so much diseas'd,
But will, with such fayre Correctiues, be pleas'd.
For here, he doth not feare, who can apply.
If there be any, that will sit so nigh
Vnto the streame, to looke what it doth runne,
They shall finde things, they'ld thinke, or wish, were done;
They are so naturall follies: But so showne,
As euen the Doers may see, and yet not owne.

THE ALCHEMIST.

ACT. 1.

SCENE. 1.

FACE. SVBTLE. DOL Common.
BEleeu't I will.
SVB.
Thy worst. I fart at thee.
DOL.
Ha'you your wits? Why Gentlemen! for loue—
FAC.
Sirah, I'll strip you—
SVB.
What to do? licke figs
Out at my—
FAC.
Rogue, Rogue, out of all your sleights.
DOL.
Nay, look ye! Soueraigne, General, are you Madmen?
SVB.
O, let the wild sheepe loose. Ile gumme your silkes
With good strong water, an'you come.
DOL.
Will you haue
The neighbours heare you? Will you betray all?
Hearke, I heare some body.
FAC.
Srah.
SVB.
I shall marre
All that the Taylor has made, if you approach.
FAC.
You most notorious whelpe, you insolent slaue,
Dare you doe this?
SVB.
Yes faith, yes faith.
FAC.
Why! who
Am I, my Mungrill? Who am I?
SVB.
I'll tell you,
Since you know not your selfe.
FAC.
Speake lower, Rogue.
SVB.
Yes. You were once (time's not long past) the good,
Honest, plaine, liuerie-three-pound-Thrum; that kept
Your Maisters worships house, here, in the Friers,
For the vacations.
FAC.
Will you be so loud?
SVB.
Since, by my meanes, translated Suburb-Captaine.
FAC.
By your meanes, Doctor Dog?
SVB.
Within mans memory,
All this, I speake of.
FAC.
Why, I pray you, haue I
Beene countenanc'd by you? or you, by me?
Doe but collect, S r. where I met you first.
SVB.
I doe not heare well.
FAC.
Not of this, I thinke it.
But I shall put you in minde, S r. at Pie-Corner,
Taking your meale of steeme in, from Cookes stalls
Where, like the Father of Hunger, you did walke
[Page] [...] [Page] [...]
[Page] Pi [...]eously costiue with your pinch'd horne-nose,
And your complexion, of the Roman [...] wash,
Stuck full of blacke, and melancholique wormes,
Like poulder cornes, shot, at th' Artillery-yard.
SVB.
I wish, you could aduance your voice, a little.
FAC.
When you went pinn'd vp, in the seuerall ragges,
Yo'had rak'd, and pick'd from dungh [...]s, before day,
Your feete in mouldy s [...]ppers, for your kibes,
A felt of rugg, and a thin thredden cloake,
That scarce would couer your no-buttockes.
SVB.
So S r.
FAC.
When all your Alchemye, and your Algebra,
Your Mineralls, Vegetalls, and Animalls,
Your Coniuring, Cosning, and your dosen of Trades
Could not relieue your corps, with so much linnen
Would make you tinder, but to see a fire;
I ga'you count'nance, credit for your Coales,
Your Stilles, your Glasses, your Materialls,
Built you a Fornace, drew you Customers,
Aduanc'd all your blacke Arts; lent you, beside.
A house to practise in.
SVB.
Your Masters house?
FAC.
Where you haue studied the more thriuing skill
Of Bawdry, since.
SVB.
Yes, in your Masters house.
You, and the Rats, here, kept possession.
Make it not strange. I know, you were one, could keepe
The Buttry-hatch still lock'd, and saue the chippings,
Sell the dole-beere to Aqua-v [...]tae men,
The which, together with your Christmasse vailes,
At Post, and Paire, your letting out of Counters,
Made you a pretty stocke some twenty markes,
And gaue you credit, to conuerse with cobwebs,
Here, since your Mistresse death hath broke vp house.
FAC.
You might talke softlier, Raskall.
SVB.
No, you Scarabe,
I'll thunder you, in peeces. I will teach you
How to beware, to tempt a Fury' againe
That carries tempest in his hand, and voyce.
FAC.
The Place has made you valiant.
SVB.
No, your Clothes.
[Page] Thou Vermine haue I tane thee, out of dung,
So poore, so wretched, when no liuing thing
Would keepe thee company, but a Spider, or worse?
Raysd thee from broomes, and dust, and watring pots?
Sublsm'd thee, and exal [...]ed thee, and fix'd thee
I'the third region, the high state of grace?
Wrought thee to spirit, to quintessence, with paines
Would twise haue wonne me the Philosophers worke?
Put thee in words, and fashion? made thee fit
For more then ordinary fellowships?
Giu'n thee thy othes, thy quarrelling dimensions?
Thy rules, to cheate at horse-race, cock-pit, cardes,
Dice, or what euer gallant tincture, else?
Made thee a Second, in mine owne great Art?
And haue I this for thanke? Doe'you rebell?
Doe you flye out, i'the proiection?
Would you be gone now?
DOL.
Gentlemen, what meane you?
Will you marre all?
SVB.
Slaue, thou hadst had no Name,
DOL.
Will you vndoe your selues, with ciuill warre?
SVB.
Neuer beene knowne, past Equi Clibanum,
The heate of horse-dung, vnder ground, in cellars,
Or an Ale-house, darker then deafe Iohn's: bene lost
To all mankinde, but Laundresses, and Tapsters,
Had not I beene.
DOL.
Do'you know who heares you, Soue­raigne?
FAC.
S rah—
DOL.
Nay Generall, I thought you were ciuill.
FAC.
I shall turne desperate, if you grow thus loud.
SVB.
And hang thy selfe, I care not.
FAC.
Hang thee, Colliar,
And all thy pots, and pans, in picture I will,
Since thou hast mou'd me.
DOL.
ô, this'll ore-throw all.
FAC.
Write thee vp Baud, in Paules; haue all thy trickes
Of cosning with a hollow cole, dust, scrapings,
Searching for things lost, with a siue, and sheeres,
Erecting figures, in your rowes of Houses,
And taking in of shadowes, with a glasse,
Told in red letters: And a face, cut for thee,
Worse then Gamaliel Ratsey's,
DOL.
Are you sound?
[Page] Ha'you your senses, Masters?
FAC.
I will haue
A Booke, but barely reckoning thy Impostures,
Shall prou [...] a true Phil [...]phers stone, to Printers.
SVB.
Away you Trencher-Raskall.
FAC.
Out you Dog-leach,
The vomit of all prisons—
DOL.
Will you be
Your owne destructions, Gentlemen?
FAC.
Still spew'd out
For lying too heauy o'the basket.
SVB.
Cheater.
FAC.
Bawd.
SVB.
Cowherd.
FAC.
Coniurer.
SVB.
Cutpurse.
FAC.
Witch.
DOL.
O me.
We are ruin'd lost. Ha'you no more regard
To your reputations? Where's your iudgement? Slight,
Haue yet, some care of me, o'your Republique.
FAC.
Away this Brach. I'll bring thee, Rogue, within
The Statute of Sorcerie, tricesimo tertio
Of Harry the eight: I and (perhaps) thy neck
Within a noose, for laundring gold, and barbing.
DOL.
You'll bring your head within a cocks-combe, will you?
And you S r, with your Menstrue, gather it vp.
S'death you abhominable payre of Stinkards
Leaue off your barking, and grow one againe,
Or, by the light that shines, I'll cut your throates.
I'll not be made a prey vnto the Marshall,
For nere a snarling Dog-bolt o'you both.
Ha'you together cossen'd all this while,
And all the world, and shall it now be said
Yo'haue made most courteous shift, to cossen your selues?
You will accuse him? You will bring him in
Within the Statute? Who shall take your word,
A whoresonne, vpstart, Apocryphall Captayne,
Whom not a Puritane, in Black-Friers, will trust
So much, as for a fether? And you, too,
Will giue the cause, forsooth? You will insult,
And clayme a primacie, in the diuisions?
You must be chiefe? as if you, onely, had
The poulder to proiect with? and the worke
Were not begunne out of aequalitie?
The venter tripartite? All things in common?
[Page] Without prioritie? S'death, you perpetuall Curres,
Fall to your couples, againe, and cossen kindly,
And heartily, and louingly, as you should,
And loose not the beginning of a Terme,
Or, by this hand, I shall grow factious too
And, take my part, and quit you.
FAC.
Tis his fault,
He euer murmures, and obiects his paines,
And sayes, the weight of all lies vpon him.
SVB.
Why so it do's.
DAL.
How does it? Doe not we
Sustaine our parts?
SVB.
Yes, but they are not aequall.
DOL.
Why, if your part exceede to day, I hope
Ours may, to morrow, match it.
SVB.
I, they may.
DOL.
May, murmuring Mastiffe, I, and do. Gods will!
Helpe me to thrattell him.
SVB.
Dorothee, Mistresse Dorothee,
O'ds precious, I'll doe any thing. What doe you meane?
DOL.
Because o'your Fermentation, and Cibation?
SVB.
Not I, by heauen.
DOL.
Your Sol & Luna: help me.
SVB.
Would I were hang'd then. I'll conforme my selfe.
DOL.
VVill you S r. doe so then, and quickly. Sweare.
SVB.
What should I sweare?
DOL.
To leaue your faction S r.
And labour, kindly, in the commune worke.
SVB.
Let me not breath, if I meant ought, beside.
I onely vs'd those speeches, as a spurre
To him.
DOL.
I hope we need [...]o spurres S r. Doewe?
FAC.
Slid, proue to day, who shall sharke best.
SVB.
Agreed.
DOL.
Yes, and worke close, and friendly
SVB.
Slight the knot
Shall grow the stronger, for this breach, with me.
DOL.
Why so, my good Babounes! Shall we goe make
A sort of sober, sc [...]ruy, praecise Neighbours,
(That scarse haue smil'd twise, sin'the King came in)
A feast of laughter, at our follies? Raskalls,
Would runne themselues from breath, to see me ride,
Or you t'haue but a Hole, to thrust your heads in,
For which you should pay Eare-rent: No, Agree.
And may Don Prouost ride a feasting, long,
In his old veluet ierken, and staynd scarfes,
[Page] (My noble Soueraigne, and worthy Generall)
Ere we contribute a new cruell garter
To his most worsted worship.
SVB.
Royall Dol!
Spoken like Claridiana, and thy selfe.
FAC.
For which at supper, thou shalt sit in triumph,
And not be stil'd ` Do [...] common, but Do [...] proper,
Dol singular: the longest cut, at night.
Shall draw thee for his Dol particular.
SVB.
Who's that? one rings. To the windo'
Dol.
Pray heau'n,
The Master doe not troublevs, this quarter.
FAC.
O, feare not him. While there dies one, a weeke,
O'the plague, hee's safe, from thinking, toward London.
Beside, hee's busie at his hop-yardes, now,
I had a letter from him. If he doe,
Hee'll send such word, for ayring o'the house
As you shall haue sufficient time, to quit it.
Though we breake vp a fortnight, 'tis no matter.
SVB.
Who is it, Dol?
DOL.
A fine yong Quodling.
FAC.
O
My Lawyers Clearke, I lighted on, last night,
In Hol'bourne, at the Dagger. He would haue
(I told you of him) a Familiar,
To rifle with [...] at horses, and winne cuppes.
DOL.
O, let him in.
SVB.
Stay. Who shall doo't?
FAC.
Get you
Your robes on. I will meete him, as going out.
DOL.
And what shall I do?
FAC.
Not be seene, away.
Seeme you very reseru'd.
SVB.
Inough.
FAC.
God be w'you, S r.
I pray you, let him know that I was here.
His name is Dapper. I would gladly haue stayd, But—

ACT. 1. SCENE. 2.

DAPPER. FACE. SV [...]TLE.
CAptaine, I am here
FAC.
Who's that? Hee's come, I think, Doctor.
Good faith, S r, I was going away.
DAP.
In truth,
I am very sory, Captayne.
FAC.
But I thought
Sure, I should meet you.
DAP.
I am very glad.
[Page] I'had a sciruy [...], or two, to make,
And I had lent my watch last night, to one
That dines [...] to day, at the Shrieffs: and so was robd
Of my passe-time Is this the Cunning-man?
FAC.
This is his worship.
DAP.
Is he a Doctor?
FAC.
Yes.
DAP.
And ha'you broke with him, Captaine?
FAC.
I.
DAP.
And how
FAC.
Faith, he doe's make the matter, S r. so dainty,
I know not what to say.
DAP.
Not so, good Captaine.
FAC.
Would I were fayrely rid on't, beleeue me.
DAP.
Nay, now you grieue me S r. Why should you wish so?
I dare assure you, I'll not be vngratefull.
FAC.
I cannot thinke you will, S r. But the Lawe
Is such a thing—And then he sayes, Reade's matter
Falling so lately.
DAP.
Reade? He was an Ass [...],
And dealt S r with a Foole.
FAC.
It was a Clearke, S r.
DAP.
A Clearke?
FAC.
Nay, heare me, S r. you know the Law
Better, I thinke
DAP.
I should S r. and the danger.
You know I shew'd the Statu [...]e to you?
FAC.
You did so.
DAP.
And will I tell, then? By this [...] of flesh,
Would it might neuer wright good [...] hand, more,
If I discouer. What doe you thinke of me,
That I am a Chiau [...]e?
FAC.
What's that?
DAP.
The Turke was, here.
As one would say, Doe you thinke I am a Turke?
FAC.
I'll tell the Doctor so.
DAP.
Doe, good sweet Captaine.
FAC.
Come, noble Doctor,' pray thee, let's preuaile,
This is the Gentleman, and he is no Chiause.
SVB.
Captaine, I haue return'd you all my answere.
I would doe much S r. for your loue—But this
I neither may, nor can.
FAC.
Tut, doe not say so.
You deale, now, with a noble fellow, Doctor,
One that will thanke you, richly, and h'is no Chiause:
Let that S r. moue you.
SVB.
Pray you, forbeare.
FAC.
He has
Foure Angels, here.
SVB.
You doe me wrong good S r.
FAC.
Doctor, wherein? To tempt you with these spirits?
SVB.
To tempt my art, and loue, Sir, to my perill.
Fore heau'n, I scarse can thinke you are my friend,
[Page] That so would draw me to apparant danger.
FAC.
I draw you? A horse draw you, and a halter,
You, and your Flies together.
DAP.
Nay, good Captaine.
FAC.
That know no difference of men.
SVB.
Good words S r.
FAC.
Good deeds, S r. Doctor Dogges-mouth. Slight I bring you
No cheating Clim-o'the-Cloughs, or Claribels.
That looke as bigge as fine, and fifty, and flush,
And spit out secrets, like hot Custard
DAP.
Captayne.
FAC.
Nor any melancholike vnder-Scribe,
Shall tell the Vicar: but, a speciall Gentle,
That is the Heire to forty markes, a yeare,
Consorts with the small Poets of the time,
Is the sole hope of his old Grand-Mother,
That knowes the Law, and writes you sixe fayre Hands,
Is a fine Clearke, and has his Ciphring perfect,
Will take his oth, o'the Greeke Testament,
If need be, in his pocket: and can court
His Mistresse, out of Ouid.
DAP.
Nay, deare Captayne.
FAC.
Did you not tell me, so?
DAP.
Yes, but I'ld ha'you
Vse M r. Doctor, with some more respect.
FAC.
Hang him proud Stagg, with his broad veluet head.
But, for your sake, I'ld choake ere I would change
An article of breath, with such a Puck-fist.
Come let's be gone.
SVB.
Pray you, le'me speake with you.
DAP.
His worship calls you, Captayne.
FAC.
I am sorry,
I e're imbarqu'd my selfe, in such a busines.
DAP.
Nay good S r. He did call you.
FAC.
Will he take, then?
SVB.
First, heare me—
FAC.
Not a syllable, 'lesse you take.
SVB.
Pray ye' S r.
FAC.
Vpon no termes, but an Assumpsit.
SVB.
Your Humor must be law.
FAC.
Why now S r. talke.
Now, I dare heare you with mine honour. Speake.
So may this Gentleman too
SVB.
Why S r.
FAC.
No whi­spring,
SVB.
'Fore Heau'n, you doe not apprehend the losse
You doe your selfe, in this.
FAC.
Wherein? For what?
SVB.
Mary, to be so'importunate for one,
That, when he has it, will vndoe you all:
[Page] He'll winne vp all the money i'the Towne.
FAC.
How!
SVB.
Yes. And blow vp Gamster, after Gamster,
As they doe crackers, in a Puppit-play.
If I doe giue him a Familiar,
Giue you him all you play for; neuer set him:
For he will haue it.
FAC.
Y'are mistaken, Doctor.
Why, he do's aske one but for Cuppes, and Horses,
A rifling Fly: none o'your great Familiars.
DAP.
Yes, Captayne, I would haue it, for all games.
SVB.
I told you so.
FAC.
'Slight, that's a new businesse!
I vnderstood you, a tame Bird, to flye
Twise in a Terme, or so; on Friday nights,
When you had left the Office: for a Nagg,
Of forty, or fifty shillings.
DAP.
I 'tis true, Sir,
But I doe thinke, now, I shall leaue the Lawe,
And therefore.
FAC.
Why this changes quite the case!
Do'you thinke, that I dare moue him?
DAP.
If you please, Sir,
All's one to him, I see.
FAC.
What? for that money?
I cannot with my Conscience. Nor should you
Make the request, me thinkes.
DAP.
No, Sir, I meane
To adde consideration.
FAC.
VVhy, then, Sir,
I'll try. Say, that it were for all games, Doctor?
SVB.
I say, then, not a mouth shall eate for him
At any Ordinary, but o'the Score,
That is a gaming mouth, conceiue me.
FAC.
Indeed!
SVB.
He'll draw you all the treasure of the realme,
If it be set him.
FAC.
Speake you this from art?
SVB.
I, Sir, and reason too; the ground of art.
H'is o'the onely best complexion
The Queene of Fairie loues.
FAC.
VVhat! is he
SVB.
Peace.
He'll ouer-heare you. Sir, should she but see him—
FAC.
VVhat?
SVB.
Do not you tell him.
FAC.
VVill he win at cardes too?
SVB.
The Spirits of dead Holland, liuing Isaac,
You'ld sweare, were in him: such a vigorous luck
As cannot be resisted. Slight he'll put
Sixe o'your Gallants, to a cloake, indeed.
FAC.
[Page]
A strange successe, that some man shall be borne too!
SVB.
Hee heares you, man.
DAP.
Sir, Ile not be ingratefull.
FAC.
Faith, I haue a confidence in his good nature:
You heare, he sayes, he will not be ingratefull.
SVB.
VVhy, as you please, my venture followes yours.
FAC.
Troth, doe it Doctor. Thinke him trusty, and make him.
Hee may make vs both happy in an hower:
Winne some fiue thousand pound, and send vs two on't.
DAP.
Beleeue it, and I will, Sir.
FAC.
And you shall, Sir.
You haue heard all?
DAP.
No, what was't? Nothing, I Sir.
FAC.
Nothing?
DAP.
A little, Sir.
FAC.
Well, a rare Starre
Raign'd, at your birth.
DAP.
At mine Sir? No.
FAC.
The Doctor
Sweares that you are—
SVB.
Nay Captayn, Yo'll tell all, now.
FAC.
Allied to the Queene of Faerie.
DAP.
Who? that I am?
Beleeue it, no such matter.
FAC.
Yes, and that
Yo'were borne with a Caule o'your head.
DAP.
Who sayes so?
FAC.
Come.
You know it well inough, though you dissemble it.
DAP.
I fac, I doe not. You are mistaken.
FAC.
How!
Sweare by your fac? and in a thing, so knowne
Vnto the Doctor? How shall we, Sir, trust you
I'the other matter? Can we euer thinke,
When you haue wonne fiue, or sixe thousand pound,
Yo'll send vs shares in't, by this rate?
DAP.
By Gad, Sir,
I'll winne ten thousand pound, and send you halfe.
I fac is no othe.
SVB.
No, no, he did but iest.
FAC.
Goe too. Goe, thanke the Doctor. He is your friend.
To take it so.
DAP.
I thanke his VVorship.
FAC.
So?
Another Angell.
DAP.
Must I?
FAC.
Must you? Slight,
VVhat else is Thankes? Will you be triuiall? Doctor.
VVhen must he come, for his Familiar?
DAP.
Shall I not ha'it with me?
SVB.
O, good Sir,
There must a world of ceremonies passe,
You must be bath'd, and fumigated, first;
Besides, the Queene of Faerie do's not rise,
Till it be noone.
FAC.
Not, if she daunc'd, to night.
SVB.
[Page]
And she must blesse it.
FAC.
Did you neuer see
Her royall Grace, yet?
DAP.
Whom?
FAC.
Your Aunt of Faerie?
SVB.
Not, since she kist him, in the cradle, Captayne,
I can resolue you that.
FAC.
VVell, see her Grace,
What ere it cost you, for a thing that I know.
It will be somewhat hard to compasse: But,
How euer, see her. You are made, beleeue it,
If you can see her. Her Grace is a lone woman,
And very rich, and if she take a phant'sye,
She will doe strange things. See her, at any hand.
'Slid, she may hap to leaue you all she has:
It is the Doctors feare.
DAP.
How will't be done, then?
FAC.
Let me alone take you no thought. Doe you
But say to me. Captayne, I'll see her Grace.
DAP.
Captain, I'll see her Grace.
FAC.
Inough.
SVB.
Who's there?
Anone. (Conduct him forth, by the back way)
Sir, against one a Clock, prepare your selfe.
Till when you must be fasting; onely, take
Three drops of vinegar, in, at your nose;
Two at your mouth; and one, at eyther eare;
Then, bath your fingers endes; and, wash your eyes;
To sharpen your fiue Senses; and, cry Hum,
Thrise; and then Buz, as often; and then, Come.
FAC.
Can you remember this?
DAP.
I warrant you.
FAC.
Well, then, away. 'Tis, but your bestowing
Some twenty nobles, 'mong her Graces Seruants;
And, put on a cleane shirt: You doe not know
What grace her Grace may doe you in cleane linnen.

ACT. 1. SCENE. 3.

SVBTLE. DRVGGER. FACE.
COme in. Good wiues, I pray you forbeare me, now.
Troth I can doe you no good, till afternoone.
What is your name, say you, Abel Drugger?
DRV.
Yes, Sir.
SVB.
A seller of Tobacco?
DRV.
Yes, Sir.
SVB.
'Vmh.
Free of the Grocers?
DRV.
I, and't please you.
SVB.
Well.
[Page] Your busines, Abel?
DRV.
This, and't please your worship,
I'am a yong beginner, and am building
Of a new shop, and't like your worship; iust,
At corner of a street: (Here's the plot on't.)
And I would know, by art, Sir, of your Worship,
Which way I should make my dore, by Necromantie.
And, where my Shelues. And, which should be for Boxes,
And, which for Potts, I would be glad to thriue, Sir.
And, I was wish'd to your Worship, by a Gentleman,
One Captaine Face, that say's you know mens Planets,
And their good Angels, and their bad.
SVB.
I doe
If I doe see'hem.
FAC.
VVhat! my honest Abel?
Thou art well met, here.
DRV.
Troth, Sir, I was speaking,
Iust, as your VVorship came here, of your VVorship.
I pray you, speake for me to M r. Doctor.
FAC.
He shall doe any thing. Doctor, doe you heare?
This is my friend, Abel, an honest fellow,
He lets me haue good Tobacco, and he do's not
Sophisticate it, with Sack-lees, or Oyle,
Nor washes it in Muscadell, and Graines,
Nor buries it, in grauell, vnder ground,
Wrap'd vp in greasie leather, or piss'd cloutes:
But keepes it in fine Lilly-pots, that open'd,
Smell like conserue of Roses, or French Beanes.
He has his Maple block, his siluer tongs,
Winchester pipes, and fire of Iuniper.
A neate, spruce-honest-fellow, and no Goldmith.
SVB.
H'is a fortunate fellow, that I am sure on.
FAC.
Already, Sir, ha'you found it? Lo'thee Abel!
SVB.
And, in right way to'ward riches.
FAC.
Sir.
SVB.
This Summer.
He will be of the Clothing of his company.
And, next spring, call'd to the Scarlet. Spend what he can.
FAC.
What, and so little beard?
SVB.
Sir, you must thinke,
He may haue a receipt, to make hayre come.
But he'll be wise, preserue his youth, and fine for't:
[Page] His fortune lookes for him, another way.
FAC.
'Slid, Doctor, how canst thou know this so soone?
I'am amus'd, at that!
SVB.
By a rule, Captayne,
In Metaposcopie, which I doe worke by,
A certaine Starre i'the forehead, which you see not.
Your Chest-nut, or your Oliue-colourd face
Do's neuer fayle: and your long Eare doth promise.
I knew't, by certaine spotts too, in his teeth,
And on the nayle of his Mercurial finger.
FAC.
Which finger's that?
SVB.
His little finger, Looke.
Yo'were borne vpon a Wensday.
DRV.
Yes, indeed, Sir.
SVB.
The Thumbe, in Chiromantie, we giue Venus;
The Fore-finger to Ioue; the Midst, to Saturne;
The Ring to Sol, the Least, to Mercurie:
Who was the Lord, Sir, of his Horoscope,
His House of life being Libra. Which foreshew'd,
He should be a Marchant, and should trade with Ballance.
FAC.
VVhy, this is strange! Is't not, honest Nab?
SVB.
There is a Ship now, comming from Ormu's,
That shall yeeld him, such a Commoditie
Of Drugs. This is the West, and this the South?
DRV.
Yes, Sir.
SVB.
And those are your two sides?
DRV.
I, Sir.
SVB.
Make me your Dore, then, South; your broad side, West:
And, on the East-side of your shop, aloft,
Write Mathlaj, Tarmiel, and Baraborat;
Vpon the North-part, Rael, Velel, Thiel,
They are the names of those Mercurian spirits,
That doe fright flyes from boxes.
DRV.
Yes, Sir,
SVB.
And
Beneath your threshold, bury me a Loade-stone
To draw in Gallants, that weare spurres: The rest,
They'll seeme to follow.
FAC.
That's a secret, Nab.
SVB.
And, on your stall, a Puppet, with a vice,
And a Court-fucus, to call Citie-Dames.
You shall deale much, with Mineralls.
DRV.
Sir, I haue,
At home, already—
SVB.
I, I know, you'haue Arsnike,
Vitriol, Sal Tartre, Argaile, Alkaly,
[Page] Cinoper. I know all. This fellow, Captayne,
Will come, in time, to be a great Distiller,
And giue a say (I will not say directly,
But very fayre) at the Philosophers stone.
FAC.
Why, how now Abel! Is this true?
DRV.
Good Captayne,
What must I giue?
FAC.
Nay, Ile not counsell thee.
Thou hearst, what wealth, he sayes, spend what thou canst,
Th'art like to come too.
DRV.
I would gi'him a Crowne.
FAC.
A Crowne? And toward such a fortune? Hart,
Thou shalt rather gi'him thy shop. No Gold about thee?
DRV.
Yes, I haue a Portague, I ha'kept this halfe yeare.
FAC.
Out on thee, Nab, 'Slight, there was such an offer,
'Shalt keepe't no longer, I'll gi'it him for thee?
Doctor, Nab prayes your Worship, to drinke this, and sweares
He will appeare more gratefull, as your skill
Do's raise him in the world.
DRV.
I would intreat
Another fauor of his Worship.
FAC.
What is't, Nab?
DRV.
But, to looke ouer, Sir, my Almanack,
And crosse out my Ill-dayes, that I may neither
Bargaine, nor trust vpon them.
FAC.
That he shall, Nab.
Leaue it, it shall be done, 'gainst afternoone.
SVB.
And a direction for his shelues.
FAC.
Now, Nab?
Art thou well pleas'd, Nab?
DRV.
Thank, Sir, both your Wor­ships.
FAC.
Away.
Why, now, you smoaky persecuter of Nature,
Now, doe you see, that something's to be done,
Beside your Beech-coale, and your Cor'siue waters,
Your Crosse-lets, Crucibles, and Cucurbites?
You must haue stuffe, brought home to you, to worke on?
And, yet, you thinke, I am at no expense.
In searching out these vaines, then following 'hem,
Then trying'hem out. 'Fore God, my intelligence
Costs me more money, then my share oft comes too,
In these rare workes.
SVB.
You'are pleasant, Sir. How now?

ACT. 1. SCENE. 4.

FACE. DOL. SVBTLE.
VVHat say's, my dainty Dolkin?
DOL.
Yonder Fish-wife
Will not away. And there's your Giantesse,
The Baud of Lambeth.
SVB.
Hart, I cannot speake with'hem.
DOL.
Not, afore night, I haue told'hem, in a voice,
Thorough the Trunke, like one of your Familiars.
But I haue spied Sir Epicure Mammon.
SVB.
Where?
DOL.
Comming along, at far end of the lane,
Slow of his feete, but earnest of his tongue,
To one, that's with him.
SVB.
Face, Goe you, and shift,
Dol, you must presently make ready, too.
DOL.
Why, what's the matter?
SVB.
O, I did looke for him
With the sunnes rising. 'Meruaile, he could sleepe.
This is the day, I am to perfect for him
The Magisterium, our great worke, the Stone;
And yeeld it, made, into his hands: Of which,
He has, this month, talk'd, as he were possess'd on't,
And, now, hee's dealing peeces on't, away.
Me thinkes, I see him, entring Ordinaries,
Dispensing for the poxe; and Plaguy-houses,
Reaching his dose; Walking More-fields for Lepers;
And offring Citizens Wiues Pomander Bracelets,
As his preseruatiue, made of the Elixir;
Searching the Spittle, to make old Baudes yong;
And the High waies, for Beggars, to make rich.
I see no end of his labours. He will make
Nature asham'd, of her long sleepe, when Art,
Who's but a Step-dame, shall doe more, then shee,
In her best loue to Man-kinde, euer could.
If his Dreame last, Hee'l turne the Age, to Gold.

ACT. 2.

SCENE. 1.

MAMON. SVRLY.
COme on, Sir. Now, you set your foote, on Shore
In Nouo Orbe; Here's the rich Pern:
And there within, Sir, are the golden Mines
Great Salomon's Op [...]. He was sayling to't
Three yeares, but we haue 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 Specta [...]ssimi.
You shall no more deale with the hollow Die,
Or the fraile Card. No more be at charge of keeping
The Liuery-punke, for my yong Heyre, that must
Seale, at all howers, in his shirt. No more
If he deny, ha'him beaten to't, as he is
That brings him the commoditie. No more
Shall thirst of satten, or the couetous hunger
Of veluet entrayles, for a rude spun cloake,
To be displayd at Madam Augusta's, make
The sonnes of Sword, and Hazard fall before
The golden Calfe, and on their knees, whole nights,
Commit I dolatry with Wine, and Trumpets
Or goe a feasting, after Drum and Ensigne.
No more of this. You shall start vp yong Vice-roies,
And haue your Punques, and Punquettees, my Surly.
And vnto thee, I speake it first, Berich.
Where is my Subtle, there? Within Hough? Sir.
WITHIN
Hee'll come to you, by and by.
MAM.
That's his Fire-drake,
His Lungs, his Zephyrus, he that puffes his coales,
Till he firke Nature, vp, in her owne center.
You are not faithfull, Sir. This night, I'll change
All, that is mettall, in my house, to gold.
And, early in the morning, will I send
To all the Plumbers, and the Peuterers,
[Page] And buy their Tinne, and Lead vp: and to Lothbury.
For all the copper.
SVR.
What, and turne that too?
MAM.
Yes, and I'll purchase Deuonshire, and Cornwaile,
And make them perfect Indies. You admire now?
SVR.
No faith.
MAM.
But when you see th'effects of the great medicine!
Of which one part proiected on a hundred
Of Mercurie, or Venus, or the Moone,
Shall turne it, to as many of the Sunne;
Nay, to a thousand, so ad infinitum:
You will beleeue me.
SVR.
Yes, when I see't, I will.
But, if my eyes doe cossen me so (and I
Giuing'hem no occasion) sure, I'll haue
A Whore, shall pisse'hem out next day.
MAM.
Ha! Why?
Doe you thinke, I fable with you? I assure you,
He that has once the Flower of the Sunne,
The perfect Ruby, which we call Elixir,
Not onely can doe that, but by it's vertue,
Can confer honour, loue, respect, long life,
Giue safty, valure: yea, and victory,
To whom he will. In eight, and twenty dayes,
I'll make an Old man, of fourescore, a Childe.
SVR.
No doubt hee'is that already.
MAM.
Nay, I meane,
Restore his yeares, renew him, like an Eagle,
To the fifth age; make him get Sonnes, and Daughters,
Yong Giants; as our Philosophers haue done
(The antient Patriarkes afore the flood)
But taking, once a weeke, on a kniues point,
The quantitie of a grayne of Mustard, of it:
Become stout Marsses, and beget yong Cupids.
SVR.
The decay'd Vestall's of Pickt-hatch would thanke you,
That keepe the fire a-liue, there.
MAM.
'Tis the secret
Of Nature, naturiz'd 'gainst all infections,
Cures all diseases, comming of all causes,
A month's griefe, in a day; a yeares, in twelue:
And, of what age so euer, in a month.
[Page] Past all the doses, of your drugging Doctors.
I'll vndertake, withall, to fright the Plague
Out o'the kingdome, in three months.
SVR.
And I'll
Be bound, the Players shall sing your pra [...]ses, then,
Without their Poets.
MAM.
Sir, I'll doo't. Meane time,
I'll giue away so much, vnto my man,
Shall serue th'whole Citie, with preseruatiue,
Weekely, each house his dose, and at the rate—
SVR.
As he that built the Water-worke, dos with water,
MAM.
You are incredulous.
SVR.
Faith, I haue a humor,
I would not willingly be gull'd. Your Stone
Cannot transmute me
MAM.
Pertinax, Surly,
Will you beleeue Antiquitie? Recordes?
I'll shew you a Booke, where Moses, and his Sister,
And Salomon haue written, of the Art;
I, and a Treatise penn'd by Adam.
SVR.
How!
MAM.
O'the Philosophers stone, and in high Dutch.
SVR.
Did Adam write, Sir, in high Dutch?
MAM.
He did:
Which proues it was the Primitiue tongue.
SVR.
What Paper?
MAM.
On Cedar board.
SVR.
O that, indeed (they say)
Will last 'gainst wormes.
MAM.
'Tis like your Irish wood
'Gainst Cobwebs. I haue a peece of Iasons fleece, too,
Which was no other, then a Booke of Alchemie,
Writ in large sheepe-skin, a good fat Ram-Vellam.
Such was Pythagora's thigh, Pandora's tub;
And, all that fable of Medeas charmes,
The manner of our worke: The Bulls, our Fornace,
Still breathing fire; our Argent-viue, the Dragon:
The Dragons teeth, Mercurie sublimate,
That keepes the whitenesse, hardnesse and the biting;
And they are gather'd, into Iason's helme,
(Th' Alembeke) and then sow'd in Mars his field,
And, thence, sublim'd so often, till they are fix'd.
Both this, th' Hesperian Garden, Cadmus story,
Ioue's shower, the boone of Midas, Argus eyes,
Boccace his Demogorgon, thousands more,
All abstract Riddles of our Stone. How now?

ACT. 2. SCENE. 2.

MAMMON. FACE. SVRLY.
DOe we succeed? Is our day come? and hold's it?
FAC.
The euening will set red vpon you, Sir,
You haue colour for it, crimson, the red Ferment
Has done his office. Three howers hence, prepare you
To see proiection.
MAM.
Pertinax, my Surly,
Againe, I say to thee, aloud: Be rich.
This day, thou shalt haue Ingots: and, tomorrow,
Giue Lords th'affront. Is it, my Zephyrus, right?
Blushes the Bolts-head?
FAC
Like a Wench with Child, Sir,
That were, but now, discouer'd to her Master.
MAM.
Excellent witty Lungs. My onely care is,
Where to get stuffe, inough now, to proiect on
This towne will not halfe serue me.
FAC.
No Sir? Take
The couering of o'Churches.
MAM.
That's true
FAC.
Yes.
Let'hem stand bare, as doe their Auditorie,
Or cap 'hem, new, with Shingles.
MAM.
No, good Thatch.
Thatch will lie light, vpo'the rafters Lungs.
Lungs, I will manumit thee, from the Fornace;
I will restore thee thy complexion, Puffe,
Lost in the embers; and repayre this brayne,
Hurt with the fume o'the Mettalls.
FAC.
I haue blowne, Sir,
Hard for your Worship; throwne by many a Coale,
When t'was not Beech; weigh'd those I put in, iust,
To keepe your heate, still euen; These bleard eyes
Haue wak'd, to reade your seuerall colours, Sir,
Of the pale C [...]ron, the greene Lion, the Crow,
The Peacocks tayle, the plumed Swan.
MAM.
And, lastly,
Thou hast descried the Flower, the Sanguis Agni?
FAC.
Yes Sir
MAM.
Where's Master?
FAC.
At's prayers, Sir, hee,
Good man, he's doing his deuotions,
For the successe.
MAM.
Lungs, I will set a period,
To all thy labours: Thou shalt be, the Master
[Page] Of my Seraglia.
FAC.
Good, Sir.
MAM.
But doe you heare?
I'll geld you' Lungs.
FAC.
Yes, Sir.
MAM.
For I doe meane
To haue a list of Wiues, and Concubines,
Aequall with Salomon; 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.
Th'art sure, thou sawst it blood?
FAC.
Both bloud, & spirit, Sir.
MAM.
I will haue all my beds, blowne vp; not stuft:
Downe is too hard. And then, mine Oual Roome,
Fill'd with such pictures, as Tiberius tooke
From Elephantis: and dull Aretine
But coldly imitated. Then, my Glasses,
Cut in more subtill angles, to disperse,
And multiply the figures, as I walke
Naked betweene my Succubae. My mistes
I'le haue of perfume, vapor'd'bout the roome,
To loose our selues in; and my bathes, like pittes
To fall into: from whence, we will come forth,
And roule vs dry in Gossamour, and Roses.
Is it ariu'd at Ruby? Where I spie
A wealthy Cittizen, or rich Lawyer,
Haue a sublim'd pure Wife, vnto that fellow
I'll send a thousand pound, to be my Cuckold.
FAC.
And I shall carry it.
MAM.
No, I'll ha'no baudes,
But Fathers, and Mothers. And my flatterers,
Shall be the best, and grauest of Diuines,
That I can get for money. My mere fooles,
Eloquent Burgesses, and then my Poets
The same that writ so subtly of the Fart,
Whom I will entertaine, still, for that Subiect.
The few, that would giue out themselues, to be
Court, and Towne-Stallions, and, each where, belye
Ladies, who'are knowne most innocent, for them;
Those will I begge, to ma [...]e me Eunuchs of [...]
And they shall fanne me, with ten Estrich Tayles
[Page] A piece, made in a plume, to gather winde.
We will be braue, Puffe, now we ha'the Med'cine.
My Meate, shall all come in, in Indian shells,
Dishes of Agat, set in Gold, and studded
With Emeralds, Saphires, Hjacinths, and Rubies.
The tongues of Carpes, Dormise, and Camels heeles,
Boyl'd i'the spirit of Sol, and dissolu'd Pearle,
( Apicius diet, 'gainst the Epilepsie)
And I will eate these broaths, with spoones of Amber,
Headed with Diamant, and Carbuncle.
My foote-Boy shall eate Phesants, caluerd Salmons,
Knots, Godwits, Lamprey's: I my selfe will haue
The beards of Barbels, seru'd, in stead of sallades;
Oyld Mushromes; and the swelling vnctuous papps
Of a fat pregnant Sow, newly cut off,
Drest with an exquisite, and poynant sauce;
For which, Ile say vnto my Cooke, There's gold,
Goe forth, and be a Knight.
FAC.
Sir, I'll goe looke
A little, how it heightens.
MAM.
Doe. My Shirts
I'll haue of Taffata-sarsnet, soft, and light
As Cobwebs; and for all my other rayment
It shall be such, as might prouoke the Persian:
Were he to teach the world riot, a new.
My Gloues of Fishes, and Birds-skinnes, perfum'd
With Gummes of Paradise, and Easterne ayre—
SVR.
And do'you thinke to haue the Stone, with this?
MAM.
No, I doe thinke, t'haue all this, with the Stone.
SVR.
Why, I haue heard, he must be Homo frugi,
A pious, holy, and religious man,
One free from mortall sinne, a very Virgin.
MAM.
That makes it, Sir, he is so. But I buy it.
My venter brings it me. He, honest wretch,
A notable, superstitious, good soule,
Has worne 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 prophane word, afore him: 'Tis poyson.

ACT. 2. SCENE. 3.

MAMMON. SVBTLE. SVRLY. FACE.
GGod marrow, Father.
SVB.
Gentle Sonne, good morrow,
And, to your friend, there. What is he, is with you?
MAM.
An Heretique, that I did bring along,
In hope, Sir, to conuert him.
SVB.
Sonne, I doubt
Yo'are couetous, that thus you meete your time
I'the iust point: preuent your day, at morning.
This argues something, worthy of a feare
Of importune, and arnall appetite.
Take heed, you doe not cause the blessing leaue you,
With your vngouern'd hast. I should be sorry,
To see my labours, now, eene [...]t perfection,
Got by long watching, and large patience,
Not prosper, where my Loue, and Zeale hath plac'd'hem.
Which (heauen I call to witnesse, with your selfe,
To whom, I haue pour'd my thoughts) in all my endes,
Haue look'd no way, but vnto publique good,
To pious vses, and deare Charitie
No growne a prodigie with men. Wherein
If you, my Sonne, should, now, praeuaricate,
And, to your owne particular lusts, employ
So great, and catholique a blisse; Be sure,
A curse will follow, yea, and ouertake
Your subtle, and most secret wayes.
MAM.
I know, Sir,
You shall not need to feare me. I but come,
To ha'you confute this Gentleman.
SVB.
Who is,
Indeed, Sir, somewhat caustiue of beleefe
Toward your Stone. Would not be gull'd.
SVB.
Well, Sonne,
All that I can conuince him in, is this,
The Worke is done: Bright Sol is in his robe.
We haue a med'cine of the triple Soule,
The glorified spirit. Thankes be to heauen,
And make vs worthy of it. Vlen spiegle.
FAC.
[Page]
Anone Sir.
SVB.
Looke well to the Register,
And let your heate, still, lessen by degrees
To the Aludels.
FAC.
Yes Sir.
SVB.
Did you looke
O'the Bolts-head yet?
FAC.
Which on D. Sir?
SVB.
I.
What's the complexion?
FAC.
Whitish.
SVB.
Infuse vinegar,
To draw his vola [...]le substance, and his tincture:
And let the water in Glasse E. be feltred,
And put into the Gripes egge. Lute him, well;
And leaue him clos'd in Balneo.
FAC.
I will, Sir.
SVR.
What a braue language here is? next to Canting?
SVB.
I'haue another worke; you neuer saw, Sonne,
That, three dayes since, past the Philoso [...]hers wheele,
In the lent heate of Athanor; and's become
Sulphur o'nature.
MAM.
But 'tis for mee?
SVB.
What need you?
You haue inough, in that is, perfect.
MAM.
O, but—
SVB.
Why this is Couetise!
MAM.
No, I assure you,
I shall employ it all, in pious vses,
Founding of Colleges, and Grammar Schooles,
Marrying yong Virgins, building Hospitals,
And now, and then a Church.
SVB.
How now.
FAC.
Sir please you
Shall I not change the feltre?
SVB.
Mary, yes.
And bring me the complexion of Glasse B.
MAM.
Ha'you another?
SVB.
Yes Sonne, were I assur'd
Your piety were firme, we would not want
The meanes to glorifie it. But I hope the best:
I meane to tinct C. in sand-heate, tomorrow,
And giue him imbibition.
MAM.
Of white oyle?
SVB.
No Sir ofred. F. is come ouer the helme too,
I thanke my Maker, in S. Maries bath,
And shewes Lac Virginis. Blessed be heauen.
I sent you of his faeces there, calc [...]'d.
Out of that calx, I'ha'wonne the salt of Mercurie.
MAM.
By pouring on your rectefied water?
SVB.
Yes, and reuerberating in Athanor.
How now? What colour sayes it?
FAC.
The Ground black, Sir.
MAM.
[Page]
That's your Crowes head.
SVR.
Your Cockscomb's, is [...]t not?
SVB.
No, 'Tis not perfect, would it were the Crow.
That worke wants something.
SVR.
O, I look'd for this.
The hay is a pitching.
SVB.
Are you sure, you loos'd'hem
I'their owne menstrue?
FAC.
Yes, Sir, and then married'hem,
And put'hem in a Bolts-head, nipp'd to digestion,
According as you bad me; when I set
The liquor of Mars to circulation,
In the same heate.
SVB.
The processe, then, was right.
FAC.
Yes, by the token, Sir, the Retort brake,
And what was sau'd, was put into the Pellicane,
And sign'd with Hermes seale.
SVB.
I thinke'twas so.
We should haue a new Amalgama.
SVR.
O, this Ferret
Is ranke as any Pole-cat.
SVB.
But I care not.
Let him e'ene dy; wee haue enough, beside,
In Embrion. H. ha's his white shirt on?
FAC.
Yes, Sir,
Hee's ripe for inceration; He stands warme,
In his ash-fire. I would not, you should let
Any dye now, if I might councell Sir,
For lucks-sake to the rest. It is not good.
MAM.
He sayes right.
SVR.
I, are you bolted?
FAC.
Nay, I know't Sir,
I'haue seene th'ill fortune. What is some three Ounces
Of fresh materials?
MAM.
Is't no more?
FAC.
No more, Sir,
Of Gold, t' amalgame, with some sixe of Mercuri [...]
MAM.
Away, here's Money. What will serue.
FAC.
Aske him, Sir.
MAM.
How much?
SVB.
Giue him nine pound, you may gi'him ten.
SVR.
Yes twenty, and be cossend, Doe.
MAM.
There 'tis.
SVB.
This needs not. But that you will haue it, so,
To see conclusions of all. For two
Of our inferiour workes, are at fixation.
A third is in Ascension. Goe your wayes,
Ha'you set the Oyle of Luna in Kemia?
FAC.
Yes, Sir.
SVB.
And the Philosophers vinegar?
FAC.
I.
SVR.
We shal haue a sallad.
MAM.
When do you make proiection?
SVB.
[Page]
Sonne, be not hasty, I exalt our Med'cine,
By hanging him in Balneo Vaporoso;
And giuing him solution; then congeale him,
And then dissolue him; then againe congeale him;
For looke, how oft I iterate the worke,
So many times, I adde vnto his vertue.
As, if at first, one Ounce conuert a hundred,
After his second loose, he'll turne a thousand;
His third solution, ten: his fourth a hundred.
After his fifth, a thousand thousand Ounces
Of any imperfect mettall, into pure
Siluer, or Gold, in all examinations,
As good, as any of the naturall Mine.
Get you your stuffe here, against afternoone,
Your Brasse, your Pewter, and your Andirons.
MAM.
Not those of iron?
SVB.
Yes. You may bring them, too.
We'll change all mettall's.
SVR.
I beleeue you, in that.
MAM.
Then I may send my Spitts?
SVB.
Yes, and your Racks.
SVR.
And Dripping-pannes, and Pot-hangers, and Hookes?
Shall he not?
SVB.
If [...]e please.
SVR.
To be an Asse.
SVB.
How Sir!
MAM.
This Gent'man, you must beare withall.
I told you, he had no faith.
SVR.
And little hope, Sir,
But, much lesse charitie, should I gull my selfe.
SVB.
Why what haue you obseru'd, Sir, in our Art,
Seemes so impossible?
SVR.
But your whole worke, no more.
That, you should hatch gold in a Fornace, Sir,
As they doe egges in Egypt.
SVB.
Sir, doe you
Beleeue that egges are hatch'd so?
SVr.
If I should?
SVB.
Why, I thinke that the greater Miracle.
No Egge, but differs from a Chicken, more,
Then Mettalls in themselues.
SVR.
That cannot be.
The Egg's ordain'd by Nature, to that end:
And is a Chicken, in Potentia.
SVB.
The same we say of Lead, and other Mettalls,
Which would be Gold, if they had time.
MAM.
And that
Our Art doth furder.
SVB.
I, for 'twere absurd
[Page] To thinke that Nature, in the earth, bred Gold
Perfect i'the instant. Something went before.
There must be remote Matter.
SVR.
I, what is that?
SVB.
Mary, we say.
MAM.
I, now it heates, stand Father.
Pound him to Dust.
SVB.
It is, of the one part,
A humide exhalation, which we call
Materia liquida, or the V [...]ctuous Water;
On th'other part, a certaine crasse, and viscous
Portion of earth; both which, concorporate,
Doe make the elementary matter of Gold:
Which is not, yet, propria materia,
But commune to all Mettalls, and all Stones.
For, where it is forsaken of that moysture,
And hath more drynesse, it becomes a Stone;
Where it retaines more of the humid fatnesse,
It turnes to Sulphur, or to Quick-siluer:
Who are the Parents of all other Mettals.
Nor can this remote Matter, sodainly,
Progresse so from extreme, vnto extreme,
As to grow Gold, and leape ore all the meanes.
Nature doth, first, beget th'imperfect; then
Proceedes shee to the perfect. Of that ayrye,
And oyly water, Mercury is engendred;
Sulphure o'the fat, and earthy part; the one
(Which is the last) supplying the place of Male,
The other of the Female, in all Mettalls.
Some doe beleeue Hermaphrodeitie,
That both doe act, and suffer. But these two
Make the rest ductile, malleable, extensiue.
And, euen in Gold, they are; for we doe finde
Seedes of them, by our fire, and Gold in them:
And can produce the species of each mettall
More perfect thence, then Nature doth in earth.
Beside, who doth not see, in dayly practise,
Art can beget Bees, Hornets, Beetles, Waspes,
Out of the Carcasses, and dung of Creatures;
[Page] Yea, Scorpions, of an herbe, being ritely plac'd.
And these are liuing Creatures, far more perfect,
And excellent, then Mettall.
MAM.
Well said, Father!
Nay, if he take you in hand, Sir, with an argument,
Hee'll bray you in a Morter.
SVR.
Pray you, Sir, stay.
Rather, then I'll be bray'd, Sir, I'll beleeue,
That Alchemie is a pretty kinde of Game,
Somewhat like Tricks o'the Cards, to cheat a man,
With charming.
SVB.
Sir?
SVR.
What else are all your Term [...],
Whereon no one o'your Writers grees with other?
Of your Elixir, your Lac virginis,
Your Stone, your Med'cine, and your Chrysosperme,
Your Sal, your Sulphur, and your Mercurie,
Your Oyle of height, your Tree of life, your Blood,
Your Marchesite, your Tutie, your Magnesia,
Your Toade, your Crow, your Dragon, and your Panthar,
Your Sunne, your Moone, your Firmament, your Adrop,
Your Lato, Azoch, Zernich, Chibrit, Heautarit,
And then your Red man, and your white [...];
With all your Broathes, your M [...]nstrues, and Materialls,
Of Pisse, and Egge-shells, Womens termes, Mans blood,
Hayre o'the head, burnt Cloutes, Chalke, Merds, and Clay,
Poulder of bones, scalings of Iron, glasse.
And worlds of other strange Ingredients,
Would burst a man to name.
SVB.
And all these, nam'd,
Intending but one thing: which art our Writers
Vs'd to obscure their Art.
MAM.
Sir, so I told him.
Because the simple I diot should not learne it,
And make it vulgar.
SVB.
Was not all the knowledge
Of the Aegyptians writ in mystick Symboles?
Speake not the Scriptures oft in Parables?
Are not the choysest Fables of the Poets,
That were the Fountaines, and first Springs of Wisedome,
Wrapt in perplexed Allegories?
MAM.
I vrg'd that.
And clear'd to him, that Sisiphus was damn'd
To roule the ceaslesse stone, onely, because
[Page] He would haue made ours common. Who is this?
SVB.
God's precious—What doe you meane? Goe in, good
Lady;
Let me entreat you. Where's this Varlet?
FAC.
Sir?
DOL is seene.
SVB.
You very knaue. Doe you vse mee, thus?
FAC.
Wherein Sir?
SVB.
Goe in, and see, you traytor. Goe.
MAM.
who is it, Sir?
SVB.
Nothing Sir. Nothing.
MAM.
What is the matter? Good Sir!
I haue not seene you thus distemp'red. Who is't?
SVB.
All Artes haue still had, Sir, their aduersaries,
But ours the most ignorant. What now?
FAC.
'Twas not my fault, Sir, she would speake with you.
SVB.
Would she Sir? Follow me.
MAM.
stay Lungs.
FAC.
I dare not Sir.
FAC.
Stay man, what is she?
FAC.
A Lords Sister, Sir.
MAM.
How! Pray thee stay?
FAC.
She's mad Sir, & sent hether—
(He'll be mad too.
MAM.
I warrant thee.) Why sent hether?
FAC.
Sir, to be cur'd.
SVB.
Why Raskall!
FAC.
Loe you. Here Sir.
MAM.
Fore-God, a Bra [...]ante, a braue piece!
SVR.
Hart, this is a baudy-House. I'll be burnt else.
MAM.
O, by this light, no. Doe not wrong him. H'is
Too scrupulous, that way: It is his vice.
No, h'is a rare Phisition, doe him right.
An excellent Paracelsian! and has done
Strange cures with minerall phisick. He deales all
With spirits, he, He will not heare a Word
Of Galen, or his tedious Recipee's.
How now, Lungs!
FAC.
Softly, Sir, speake softly. I meant
To ha' told your Worship all. This must not heare,
MAM.
No, he will not be gull'd; let him alone.
FAC.
Y'are very right. Sir, she is a most rare schollar:
And is gone mad, with studying Broughtons workes.
If you but name a word, touching the Hebrew,
She falls into her fit, and will discourse
So learnedly of Genealogies,
As you would runne mad, too, to heare her, Sir,
MAM.
[Page]
How might one doe t'haue conference with her, Lungs?
FAC.
O, diuers haue runne mad vpon the Conference.
I doe not know, Sir: I am sent in hast,
To fetch a Viale.
SVR.
Be not gull'd, Sir Mammon.
MAM.
Wherein? 'Pray ye, be patient
SVR.
Yes, as you are.
And trust confederate Knaues, and Baudes, and Whores.
MAM.
You are too foule, beleeue it. Come here, Zephyrus.
One word.
FAC.
I dare not, in good faith.
MAM.
Stay, Knaue.
FAC.
H'is extreme angry, that you saw her, Sir.
MAM.
Drinke that. What is she, when she's out of her fit?
FAC.
O the most affablest Creature, Sir! so mery!
So pleasant! she'll mount you vp, like quick-siluer,
Ouer the helme; and circulate, like oyle;
A very Vegetall: discourse of State,
Of Mathematiques, Ba [...]dry, any thing—
MAM.
Is she no way accessible? no meanes,
No trick, to giue a man a tast of her—
W [...]t? or so?
FAC.
I'll come to you againe, Sir.
MAM.
S [...]rly, I did not thinke, one o'your breeding
Would traduce personages of worth.
SVR.
Sir Epic [...]re,
Your friend to vse. Yet, still, loth to be gull'd.
I doe not like your Phil [...]sophicall baudes.
Their Stone is lechery inough, to pay for,
Without this bayte
MAM.
'Hart you abuse your selfe.
I know the Lady, and her friends, and meanes,
The originall of this disaster. Her Brother
H'as told me all.
SVR.
And yet, you ne're saw her
Till now?
MAM.
O yes, but I forgot. I haue (beleeue it)
One o'the treacherou'st memories, I doe thinke,
Of all mankinde.
SVB.
What call you her Brother?
MAM.
My Lord—
He wi'not haue his name knowne, now I thinke on't.
SVR.
A very trecherous memory.
MAM.
O'my faith—
SVR.
Tut if you ha'it not about you passe it,
Till we meete next.
MAM.
Nay, by this hand, 'tis true.
He's one I honour, and my noble friend,
[Page] And I respect his House.
SVR.
Hart! Can it be,
That a graue Sir, a rich, that has no need,
A wise Sir, too, at other times should thus
With his owne oathes, and arguments, make hard meanes
To gull himselfe? And, this be your Elixir,
Your Lapis M [...]neralis, and your Lunarie,
Giue me your honest trick, yet, at Primero,
Or Gleeke; and take your Lutum sapientis,
Your Menstruum simplex: I'll haue Gold, before you,
And, with lesse danger of the Quick-siluer;
Or the hot Sulphur.
FAC.
Here's one from Captaine Face, Sir,
Desires you meete him i'the Temple-Church,
Some halfe houre hence, and vpon earnest busines.
Sir, if you please to quit vs, now; and come,
Againe, within two howers: You shall haue
My Master busie examining o'the workes,
And I will steale you in, vnto the party, [...]
That you may see her Conuerse. Sir, Shall I say,
You'll meete the Captaines Worship?
SVR.
Sir, I will.
But, by Attorney, and to a second purpose.
Now, I am sure, it is a Bawdy-house;
I'll sweare it, were the Marshall here, to thankeme.
The naming this Commander, doth confirme it.
Don Face! Why, h'is the most autentique dealer
I'these Commodities! The Superintendent
To all the queinter Traffiquers, in towne.
He is their Visiter, and do's appoint
Who lies with whom; and at what hower; what price;
Which gowne; and in what smock; what fall; what tire.
Him will I proue, by a third person, to finde
The subtilties of this darke Labyrinth:
Which, if I doe discouer, deare, Sir Mammon,
You'll giue your poore Friend leaue, though no Philosopher,
To laugh: for you that are, 'tis thought, shall weepe.
FAC.
Sir. He do's pray, you'll not forget.
SVR.
I will not, Sir.
[Page] Sir Epicure, I shall leaue you.
MAM.
I follow you, streight.
FAC.
But doe so, good Sir, to auoide suspicion.
This Gent'man has a par'lous head.
MAM.
But wilt thou
Be constant to thy promise?
FAC.
As my life, Sir.
[...] And wilt thou insinuate what I am? and praise me?
And say I am a Noble fellow?
FAC.
O what else, Sir?
And, that you'll make her royall, with the Stone,
An Empresse; and your selfe King of Bantam.
MAM.
Wilt thou doe this?
FAC.
Will I Sir?
MAM.
Lungs, my Lungs,
I loue thee.
FAC.
Send your stuffe Sir, that my Master
May busie himselfe, about proiection.
MAM.
Th'hast witch'd me, Rogue: Take, Goe.
FAC.
Your Iack and all Sir.
MAM.
Thou art a Villaine—I will send my Iack;
And the weights too. Slaue, I could bite thine [...]are.
Away, thou dost not care for me.
FAC.
Not I Sir?
MAM.
Come, I was borne to make thee, my good Weasell;
Set thee on a bench: and, ha'thee twirle a Chaine
With the best Lords Vermine, of 'hem all.
FAC.
Away Sir.
MAM.
A Count, nay a Count-Palatine—
FAC.
Good Sir, goe.
MAM.
Shall not aduance thee, better; no, nor faster.

ACT. 2. SCENE. 4.

SVBTLE. FACE. DOL.
HAs he bitt? Has he bit?
FAC.
And swallow'd too, my Subtle.
I ha' giu'n him line, and now he playes, I faith.
SVB.
And shall we twitch him?
FAC.
Thorough both the gills.
A Wench is a rare bay [...], with which a Man
No sooner's taken, but he straight firkes mad.
SVB.
Dol, my Lord Whachums Sister, you must now
Beare your selfe statelich.
DOL.
O, let me alone.
I'll not forget my race, I warrant you.
I'll keepe my distance, laugh, and talke aloud;
Haue all the trickes of a proud sciruy Lady:
[Page] And be as rude 'as her woman.
FAC.
Well said, sanguine.
SVB.
But will he send his And [...]rons?
FAC.
His Iack too;
And's iron Shooing-horne. I ha'spoke to him. Well,
I must not loose my wary Gamster, yonder.
SVB.
O Monsieur Caution, that will not be gull'd?
FAC.
I, if I can strike a fine hooke into him, now,
The Temple-church, there I haue cast mine angle.
Well, pray for me. I'll about it.
SVB.
What, more G [...]dgeons!
Dol, scout, scout; stay Face, you must goe to the dore.
'Pray God, it be my Anabaptist. Who is't Dol?
DOL.
I know him not. He lookes like a Gold-end man.
SVB.
Gods so! 'tis he, he said he would send. What call you him?
The sanctified Elder, that should deale
For Mammons, Iack, and Andirons! Let him in.
Stay, help me of, first, with my gowne. Away
Ma-dame, to your withdrawing Chamber. Now,
In a new tune, new gesture, but old language.
This fellow is sent, from one negotiates with me
About the stone, too; for the holy Brethren
Of Amstredam; the exil'd Saints: that hope
To raise their discipline, by it. I must vse him
In some strange fashion, now, to make him admire me.

ACT. 2. SCENE. 5.

SVBTLE. FACE. ANANIAS.
VVHere is my Drudge?
FAC.
Sir.
SVB.
Take away the Recipient,
And rectifie your Menstrue, from the Phlegma.
Then poure it, 'o the Sol, in the Cucurbite,
And let'hem macerate, together.
FAC.
Yes, Sir.
And saue the ground?
SVB.
No. Terra damnata
Must not haue entrance, in the worke. Who are you?
ANA.
A faithfull Brother, if it please you.
SVB.
What's that?
A Lullianist? a Ripley? Filius artis?
Can you sublime, and dulcefie, calcine?
[Page] Know you the sapor pontick? sapor stipstick?
Or, what is Homogene, or Heterogene?
ANA.
I vnderstand no Heathen language, truely.
SVB.
Heathen, you Knipper-doling? Is Arssacra,
Or Chrysopoeia, or Spagirica,
Or the Pamphysick, or Panarchick knowledge,
A Heathen language?
ANA.
Heathen Greeke, I take it.
SVB.
How? Heathen Greeke?
ANA.
All's Heathen, but the Hebrew.
SVB.
S'rah, my Varlet, stand you forth, and speake to him
Like a Philosopher: Answere, [...]'the language.
Name the vexations, and the Martyrizations
Of Mettalls, in the Worke.
FAC.
Sir, Putrefaction,
Solution, Ablution, Sublimation,
Cohobation, Calcination, Ceration, and
Fixation.
SVB.
This is Heathen Greeke, to you, now?
And when comes Viuification?
FAC.
After Mortification.
SVB.
What's Cohobation?
FAC.
'Tis the powring on
Your Aqua R [...]gis, and then drawing him off,
To the trine circle of the seuen spheares.
SVB.
What's the proper passion of Mettalls?
FAC.
Malleation.
SVB.
What's your Vltimum supplicium auri?
FAC.
Antimonium.
SVB.
This's Heathen Greek, to you? And, what's your Mercury?
FAC.
A very Fugitiue, he will be gone, Sir.
SVB.
How know you him?
FAC.
By his viscositie,
His oleositie, and his suscitabilitie.
SVB.
How do you sublime him?
FAC.
With the calce of Egge-shels,
White Marble, Talck.
SVB.
Your Magisterium, now?
What's that?
FAC.
Shifting, Sir, your elements,
Dry into cold, cold into moyst, moist in-
To hot, hot into dry.
SVB.
This's Heathen Greeke to you, still?
Your L [...]pis Philosophicus?
FAC.
'Tis a Stone, and not
A Stone, a spirit, a soule, and a body;
Which, if you doe dissolue, it is dissolu'd,
If you coagulate, it is coagulated,
If you make it to flye, it flyeth.
SVB.
Inough.
This's Heathen Greeke, to you? What are you Sir.
ANA.
[Page]
Please you, a Seruant of the exilde Brethren,
That deale with Widdowes, and with Orphanes goods;
And make a iust account, vnto the Saints:
A Deacon.
SVB.
O, you are sent from M r. Wholsome,
Your Teacher?
ANA.
From Tribulation Wholsome,
Our very zealous Pastor.
SVB.
Good. I haue
Some Orphanes goods to come here.
ANA.
Of what kind, Sir?
SVR.
Peuter, and Brasse, Andirons, and Kitchin ware,
Mettalls, that we must vse our med'cine on:
Wherein the Brethren may haue a penn'orth.
For ready money.
ANA.
Were the Orphanes Parents
Sincere professors?
SVB.
Why doe you aske?
ANA.
Because
We then are to deale iustly, and giue (in truth)
Their vtmost valew.
SVB.
'Slid, you'ld cossen, else,
And, if their Parents were not of the Faithfull?
I will not trust you, now I thinke on't,
Till I ha' talk'd with your Pastor. Ha' you brought money
To buy more Coales?
ANA.
No surely.
SVB.
No? How so?
ANA.
The Brethren bid me [...]ay vnto you, Sir.
Surely, they will not venter any more,
Till they may see proiection.
SVB.
How!
ANA.
Yo' haue had,
For the Instruments, as bricks, and [...]ome, and glasses,
Already thirty pound; and, for Materialls,
They say, some ninety more: And, they haue heard, since,
That one, at Hiedelberg, made it, of an Egge
And a small paper of Pinne-dust.
SVB.
What's your name?
ANA
My name is Ananias.
SVB.
Out, the Varlet
That cossend the Apostles! Hence, away,
Flee Mischiefe; had your holy Consistory
No name to send me, of another sound;
Then wicked Ananias? Send your Elders,
Hither, to make atonement for you, quickly,
And gi' me satisfaction; or out goes
The fire: and downe th' Alembekes, and the Fornace.
Piger Henricus, or what not. Thou wretch,
Both Sericon, and Bufo, shall belost,
[Page] Tell 'hem. All hope of rooting out the Bishops,
Or th' Antichristian Hierarchie shall perish,
If they stay threescore minutes. The Aqueitie,
Terreity, and Sulphureitie
Shall runne together againe, and all be annull'd
Thou wicked Ananias. This willfetch 'hem,
And make'hem hast towards their gulling more.
A man must deale like a rough Nurse, and fright
Those, that are froward, to an appetite.

ACT. 2. SCENE. 6.

FACE. SVBTLE. DRVGGER.
H'is busie with his spirits, but we'll vpon him.
SVB.
How now! What Mates? What Baiards ha' we here?
FAC.
I told you he would be furious. Sir, Here's Nab,
Has brought yo' another peece of Gold, to looke on:
(Wee must appease him. Giue it me) and prayes you
You would deuise (what is it Nab?)
DRV.
A signe, Sir.
FAC.
I, a good lucky one, a thriuing Signe, Doctor.
SVB.
I was deuising now.
FAC.
'Slight, doe not say so,
He will repent he ga' you any more.
What say you to his Constellation, Doctor?
The Ballance?
SVB.
No, that way is stale, and Common.
A Townes. Man, borne in Taurus, giues the Bull;
Or the Bulls-head: In Aries, the Ram.
A poore deuise. No. I will haue his Name
Form'd in some mystick character; whose radij,
Striking the senses of the passers by,
Shall, by a virtuall influence, breed affections,
That may result vpon the party ownes it:
As thus.
FAC.
Nab.
SVB.
He first shal haue a Bell, That's Abell;
And, by it, standing one, whose name is Dee,
In a rugg Gowne; There's D. and R [...]g, that's Drug:
And, right anenst him, a Dog snarling Er;
There's Drugger, Abel Drugger. That's his signe.
[Page] And here's now Mystery, and Hieroglyphick.
Abell, thou art made.
DRV.
Sir, I doe thanke his Worship.
FAC.
Sixe o'thy legges more, will not doe it, Nab.
He has brought you a pipe of Tobacco, Doctor.
DRV.
Yes, Sir.
I haue another thing, I would impart—
FAC.
Out with it Nab.
DRV.
Sir, there is lodg'd hard by me
A rich yong Widdow.
FAC.
Good! a Bona roba?
DRV.
But nineteene, at the most.
FAC.
Very good, Abel.
DRV.
Mary sh'is not in fashion, yet; she weares
A hood: but't stands a cop.
FAC.
No matter Abel.
DRV.
And, I doe, now and then giue her a fucus,
FAC.
What dost thou deale, Nab?
SVB.
I did tell you, Captaine.
DRV.
And physick too sometime, Sir, for which she trusts me
With all her minde. Shee's come vp here, of purpose
To learne the fashion.
FAC.
Good, His match too! on Nab.
DRV.
And she do's strangely long to know her fortune.
FAC.
Gods lid, Nab! Send her to the Doctor, hether.
DRV.
Yes, I haue spoke to her of his Worship, already:
But shee's afrayd, it will be blowne abroad
And hurt her Marriage.
FAC.
Hurt it? 'Tis the way
To heale it, if'twere hurt; to make it more
Follow'd and sought: Nab, thou shalt tell her this.
Shee'll be more knowne, more talk'd of, and your Widowes
Are ne'er of any price till they be famous;
Their Honour is their multitude of Sutors.
Send her, it may be thy good fortune. What?
Thou dost not know.
DRV.
No, Sir, shee'll neuer mary
Vnder a Knight. Her brother has made a Vow.
FAC.
What, and dost thou despayre, my little Nab,
Knowing, what the Doctor has set downe for thee,
And seeing so many, o'the Citie, dub'd?
One Glasse o'thy water, with a Madame I know
Will haue it done Nab. What's her brother? a Knight?
DRV.
No, Sir, A Gentleman, newly, warme in 'his land, Sir,
Scarse cold in his one and twenty; that do's gouerne
His Sister, here: and is a Man himselfe
[Page] Of some three thousand a yeere, and is come vp
To learne to quarrell, and to liue by his wittes,
And will goe downe againe, and dye i'the Countrey.
FAC.
How! to quarrell?
DRV.
Yes, Sir, to carry Quarrells,
As Gallants doe, and manage 'hem, by line.
FAC.
'Slid Nab. The Doctor is the onely man
In Christendome for him. He has made a Table,
With Mathematicall demonstrations,
Touching the Art of Quarrells. He will giue him
An Instrument to quarrell by. Goe, bring 'hem, both;
Him, and his Sister. And, for thee, with her
The Doctor happ'ly may perswade. Goe to.
'Shalt giue his Worship, a new Damaske suite
Vpon the premisses.
SVB.
O good Captaine.
FAC.
He shall,
He is the honestest fellow, Doctor. Say not,
No offers, bring the Damaske, and the Parties.
DRV.
I'll try my power, Sir.
FAC.
And thy will too, Nab.
SVB.
'Tis good Tobacco this! What is't an ounce?
FAC.
Hee'll send you a pound, Doctor.
SVB.
O, no:
FAC.
Hee will do't.
It is the gooddest soule. Abell about it.
(Thou shalt know more anone. Away, be gone.)
A miserable Rogue, and liues with Cheese,
And has the wormes. That was the cause indeed
Why he came now. He dealt with me, in priuate,
To get a med'cine for 'hem.
SVB.
And shall, Sir. This workes.
FAC.
A wife, a wife, for one on'vs, my deare Subtle:
Wee'll eene draw lots, and he, that fayles, shall haue
The more in goods, the other has in tayle.
SVB.
Rather the lesse. For she may be so light
She may want graynes.
FAC.
I, or be such a burden,
A man would scarse endure her, for the whole.
SVB.
Faith, best let's see her first, and then determine.
FAC.
Content. But Doll must ha' no breath on't.
SVB.
Mum.
Away, you to your Surly yonder, Catch him.
FAC.
'Pray God I ha'not stayd too long.
SVB.
I feare it.

ACT. 3.

SCENE. 1.

TRIBVLATION. ANANIAS.
THese Chastisements are common to the Saints,
And such rebukes th' Elect must beare, with patience;
They are the exercises of the Spirit,
And sent to tempt our fraylties.
ANA.
In pure zeale,
I doe not like the man: He is a Heathen.
And speakes the language of Canaan, truely.
TRI.
I thinke him a prophane person, indeed.
ANA.
He beares
The visible marke of the beast, in his forehead.
And for his Stone, it is a worke of darknesse,
And, with Philosophie, blinds the eyes of man.
TRI.
Good Brother, we must bend vnto all meanes,
That may giue furtherance, to the holy cause.
ANA.
Which his cannot: The sanctified cause
Should haue a sanctified course.
TRI.
Not alwaies necessary.
The Children of perdition are, oft times,
Made instruments euen of the greatest workes.
Beside, we should giue somewhat to mans nature,
The place he liues in, still about the Fire,
And fume of Mettalls, that intoxicate
The brayne of Man, and make him prone to passion.
Where haue you greater Atheists, then your Cookes?
Or more prophane, or cholerick then your Glasse-men?
More Antichristian then your Bell-founders?
What makes the Diuell so diuelish, I would aske you,
Sathan, our common enemy, but his being
Perpetually about the fire, and boyling
Br [...]stone, and Arsnike? We must giue, I say,
Vnto the motiues, and the stirrers vp
Of humors in the blood. It may be so.
When as the Worke is done, the Stone is made,
This heate of his may turne into a zeale,
And stand vp for the beauteous discipline,
[Page] Against the menstruous cloth, and ragg of Rome.
We must awayt his calling, and the comming
Of the good Spirit. You did fault, t' vpbraid him
With the Brethrens blessing of Heidelberg, waighing
What neede we haue, to hasten on the Worke,
For the restoring of the silenc'd Saints,
Which ne'er will be, but by the Philosophers Stone.
And, so a learned Elder, one of Scotland,
Assur'd me; Aurum potabile being
The onely med'cine, for the ciuill Magistr [...]te,
T'incline him to a feeling of the cause:
And must be dayly vs'd, in the disease.
ANA.
I haue not aedified more, truely, by man;
Not, since the beautifull light, first, shone on mee:
And I am sad my zeale hath so offended.
TRI.
Let vs call on him, then.
ANA.
The motion's good.
And of the Spirit; I will knock first: Peace be within.

ACT. 3. SCENE. 2.

SVBTLE. TRIBVLATION. ANANIAS.
O Are you come? 'Twas time. Your threescore minutes
Were at the last thred, you see, And, downe had gone
Furnus acediae, Turris circulatorius,
Lembeke, Bolts-head, Retort, and Pellicane
Had all beene cinders. Wicked Ananias!
Art thou return'd? Nay then it goes downe, yet.
TRI.
Sir, be appeased, Hee is come to humble
Himselfe in Spirit, and to aske your patience,
If too much zeale hath carried him, aside,
From the due path.
SVB.
Why, this doth qualefie.
TRI.
The Brethren had no purpose, verely,
To giue you the least greeuance: but are ready
To lend their willing hands, to any proiect
The Spirit, and you direct.
SVB.
This qualefies more.
TRI.
And, for the Orphanes goods, let them be valew'd,
[Page] Or what is needfull, else, to the holy Worke,
It shall be numbred: Here, by me, the Saints
Throw downe their purse before you.
SVB.
This qualifies, most.
Why, thus it should be, now you vnderstand.
Haue I discours [...]d so vnto you, of our Stone?
And, of the good that it shall bring your cause?
Shew'd you (beside the mayne of hiring forces
Abroad, drawing the Hollanders, your friends,
From the' Indies, to serue you, with all their Fleete)
That euen the med'cinall vse shall make you a faction,
And party in the Realme. As, put the case,
That some great Man, in stat [...], he haue the Gout,
Why you but send three droppes of your Elixir,
You help him straight: There you haue made a Friend.
Another has the Palsey, or the Dropsie,
He takes of your incombustible stuffe,
Hee's yong againe: There you haue made a Friend.
A Lady, that is past the feate of body,
Though not of minde, and hath her face decay'd
Beyond all cure of painting; you restore
With the Oyle of Tal [...]k: There you haue 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'hem smooth, and sound,
With a bare fricace of your med'cine: Still,
You increase your Friends.
TRI.
I, 'tis very praegnant.
SVB.
And, then, the turning of this Lawyers pewter
To plate, at Christ-masse.
ANA.
Christ-tide, I pray you.
SVB.
Yet, Ananias?
ANA.
I haue done.
SVB.
Or changing
His parcell guilt, to massy Gold. You cannot
But raise you Friends. With all, to be of power
To pay an armie, in the field; to buy
The King of France, out of his Realmes; or Spaine,
Out of his Indies: What can you not doe,
Against Lords Spirituall, or Temporall,
That shall oppone you?
TRI.
Verely, 'tis true.
[Page] We may be temporall Lords, our selues, I take it.
SVB.
You may be any thing, and leaue of to make
Long-winded exercises: or suck vp,
Your ha, and hum, in a tune. I not deny,
But such as are not graced, in a State,
May, for their endes, be aduerse in Religion,
And get a tune, to call the flocke together:
For (to say sooth) a tune do's much, with women,
And other phlegmatick people, It is your Bell.
ANA.
Bells are prophane, a tune may be religious.
SVB.
No warning with you? Then, farewell my patience.
'Slight, it shall downe: I will not be thus tortur'd.
TRI.
I pray you, Sir.
SVB.
All shall perish. I haue spoke it.
TRI.
Let me finde grace, Sir, in your eyes; The man
He stands corrected: neither did his zeale
(But as your selfe) allow a tune, some-where.
Which, now, being to'ard the Stone, we shall not need.
SVB.
No, nor your holy vizard, to winne Widdowes
To giue you Legacies; or make zealous Wiues
To rob their Husbands, for the common cause;
Nor take the start of Bandes, broke but one day,
And say, they were forfeited, by prouidence.
Nor shall you neede, ore night, to eate huge meales,
To celebrate your next dayes fast the better:
The whilst the Brethren, and the Sisters, humbled,
Abate the stiffenesse of the flesh; Nor cast
Before your hungry hearers, scrupulous bones,
As whether a Christian may hawke, or hunt;
Or whether, Matrons, of the holy Assembly,
May lay their haire out, or weare doublets,
Or haue that Idol Starch, about their linnen.
ANA.
It is indeed an Idoll
TRI.
Minde him not, Sir.
I doe command thee, Spirit (of zeale, but trouble)
To peace within him. Pray you Sir, goe on.
SVB.
Nor shall you need to libell 'gainst the Prelates,
And shorten so your eares, against the hearing
[Page] Of the next wire-drawne Grace. Nor, of necessitie,
Rayle against playes, to please the Alderman,
Whose dayly Custard you deuoure Nor lie
With zealous rage, till you are hoarse. Not one
Of these so singular artes. Nor call your selues,
By names of Tribulation, Persecution,
Restraint, Long-Patience, and such like, affected
By the whole Family, or Wood of you,
Onely for glory, and to catch the eare
Of the Disciple.
TRI.
Truely, Sir, they are
Wayes, that the Godly Brethren haue inuented,
For propagation of the holy cause,
As very notable meanes; and whereby, also,
Themselues grow soone, and profitably famous.
SVB.
O, but the Stone, all's idle to'it! nothing!
The art of Angels, Natures miracle,
The diuine secret, that doth flye in clouds,
From East to West: and whose Tradition
Is not from men but spirits.
ANA.
I hate Traditions.
I doe not trust 'hem.
TRI.
Peace.
ANA.
They are Popish, all.
I will not peace. I will not—
TRI.
Ananias.
ANA.
Please the prophane, to greeue the godly. I may not.
SVB.
Well, Ananias, thou shalt ouercome.
TRI.
It is an ignorant zeale, that haunts him, Sir.
But truely, else, a very faithfull Brother;
A Botcher: and a man, by reuelation,
That hath a competent knowledge of the Truth.
SVB.
Has he a competent summe, there, i'the bagg,
To buy the goods, within? I am made Guardian,
And must, for Charitie, and Conscience sake,
Now, see the most be made, for my poore Orphane.
Though I desire the Brethren, too, good Gayners.
There, they are, within. When you haue view'd, & bought 'hem,
And tane the Inuentory of what they are,
They'are ready for [...]roiection; there's no more
To doe; Cast on the med'cine: So much Siluer
As there is Tinne there, so much Gold as Brasse,
[Page] I'll gi' it you in, by waight.
TRI.
But how long time,
Sir, must the Saints expect, yet?
SVB.
Let me see,
How's the Moone, now? Eight, nine, ten dayes hence
He will be Siluer potate; then, three dayes,
Before he citronise: some fifteene dayes,
The Magisterium will be perfected.
ANA.
About the second day, of the third weeke,
In the ninth Month?
SVB.
Yes my good Ananias.
TRI.
What will the Orphanes goods arise to, thinke you?
SVB.
Some hundred Markes; as much as fill'd three Carres,
Vnladed now: you shall make sixe millions of 'hem.
But I must ha'more coales laid in.
TRI.
How!
SVB.
Another load,
And then we ha' finish'd. We must now encrease
Our fire to Ignis ardens, we are past
Fimus equinus, B [...]lnei, Cineris,
And all those lenter heates. If the holy Purse
Should, with this draught, fall low, and that the Saint [...]
Doe need a present summe; I haue trick
To melt the Pewter, you shall buy now, instantly,
And, with a tincture, make you as good ` Dutch Dollers,
As any are in Holland
TRI.
Can you so?
SVB.
I, and shall bide the third examination.
ANA.
It will be ioyfull tidings to the Brethren.
SVB.
But you must cary it, secret
TRI.
I, but stay
This act of coyning, is it lawfull?
ANA.
Lawfull?
We know no Magistrate Or, if we did,
This's forraine coyne.
SVB.
It is no coyning, Sir.
It is but casting,
TRI.
Ha? you distinguish well.
Casting of money may be lawfull.
ANA.
'Tis, Sir.
TRI.
Truely, I take it so.
SVB.
There is no scruple
Sir, to be made of it; beleeue Ananias.
This case of conscience he is studied in.
TRI.
I'll make a question of it, to the Brethren.
ANA.
The Brethren shall approue it lawfull, doubt not.
Where shall't be done?
SVB.
For that wee'l talke, anone.
There's some to speake with me. Goe in, I pray you,
[Page] And viewe the parcels. That's the Inuentory.
I'll come to you straight. Who is it? Face? Appeare.

ACT. 3. SCENE. 3.

SVBTLE. FACE. DOL.
HOw now? Good prise?
FAC.
Good poxe. Yon'd costiue Cheater
Neuer came on.
SVB.
How then?
FAC.
Iha' walkd the round,
Till now, and no such thing.
SVB.
And ha' you quit him?
FAC.
Quit him? and Hell would quit him too, he were happy.
'Slight would you haue me stalke like a Mill-Iade,
All day, for one, that will not yeeld vs Graynes?
I know him of old.
SVB.
O, but to ha' gull'd him,
Had beene a maystry.
FAC.
Let him goe, black Boy,
And turne thee, that some fresh newes may possesse thee.
A noble Count, a Don of Spaine (my deare
Delicious compeere, and my party-baud)
Who is come hether, priuate, for his Conscience,
And brought munition with him, sixe great slopps,
Bigger then three Dutch Hoighs, beside round trunkes,
Furnish'd with Pistolets, and Peeces of eight,
Will straight be here, my Rogue, to haue thy Bath
That is the colour, and to make his battry
Vpon our Dol, our Castle, our Cinque-Port,
Our Douer Pire, our what thou wilt. Where is shee?
She must prepare perfumes, delicate linnen,
The bath in chiefe, a banquet, and her wit,
For she must feele his Epididimis.
Where is the Doxie?
SVB.
I'll send her to thee:
And but dispatch my brace of little Iohn Leydens,
And come againe my selfe.
FAC.
Are they within then?
SVB.
Numbring the summe.
FAC.
How much?
SVB.
A hundred markes, boy,
FAC.
Why this's a lucky day. Ten pounds of Mammon?
Three o' my Clearke. A Portague o' my Grocer.
[Page] This o'the Brethren, beside Reuersions,
And States, to come i'the Widdow, and my Count.
My share, to day, will not be bought for forty—
DOL.
What?
FAC.
Pounds, dainty Dorothee, art thou so neare?
DOL.
Yes, say Lo: Generall, how fares ōur Campe?
FAC.
As, with the few, that had entrench'd themselues
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
Dayly, by their small parties. This deare hower,
A doughty Don is taken, with my Doll;
And thou maist make his ransome, what thou wilt,
My Dousabell: He shall be brought here, fetter'd
With thy fayre lookes, before he see's thee, and throwne
In a Downe-bed, as darke as any Dungeon;
Where thou shalt keepe him waking, with thy Drum;
Thy Drum, my Dol; thy Drum; till he be tame
As the poore Black-birds were i'the great frost,
Or Bees are with a bason: and so hiue him
I'the Swan-skin Couerlid, and cambrick Sheetes,
Till he worke Honey, and Waxe, my little Gods-guift.
DOL.
What is he, Generall.
FAC.
An Adalantado,
A Grande, Girle Was not my Dapper here, yet?
DOL.
No.
FAC.
Nor my Drugger?
DOL.
Neither.
FAC.
A poxe on 'hem,
They are so long a furnishing. Such Stinkards
Would not be seene, vpon these festiuall dayes.
How now! ha'you done?
SVB.
Done. They are gone. The summe
Is here in Banque, my Face. I would, we knew
Another chapman, now, would buy 'hem outright.
FAC.
'Slid, Nab shall doo't, against he ha' the Widdow,
To furnish houshould.
SVB.
Excellent well thought on,
Pray God, he come.
FAC.
I pray, he keepe away
Till our new businesse be o're-past.
SVB.
But, Face,
How cam'st thou, by this secret Don? A Spirit
Brought me th'intelligence, in a paper, here,
[Page] As I was coniuring, yonder, in my Circle
For Surly: I ha' my Flies abroad. Your Bath
Is famous Subtle, by my meanes. Sweet Doll,
You must goe tune your Virginall, no loosing
O'the least time. And, doe you heare? good action.
Firke like a Flounder, kisse like a Scallop, close;
And tickle him with thy Mother-tongue. His great
Verdugo-ship has not a iot of language:
So much the easier to be cossin'd, my Dolly.
He will come here, in a hir'd Coach, obscure,
And our owne Coachman, whom I haue sent, as Guide,
No creature else. Who's that?
SVB.
It i'not he?
FAC.
O no, not yet this hower.
SVB.
Who is't?
DOL.
Dapper,
Your Clearke.
FAC.
Gods will, then, Queene of Faerie,
On with your tire; and, Doctor, with your robes.
Lett's vs dispatch him, for Gods sake.
SVB.
'Twill be long.
FAC.
I warrant you, take but the QQ s I giue you,
It shall be briefe inough, 'Slight, here are more.
Abel, and I thinke, the angry Boy, the Heyre,
That fame would quarrell.
SVB.
And the Widdow?
FAC.
No,
Not that I see. Away. O Sir, you are welcome.

ACT. 3. SCENE. 4.

FACE. DAPPER. DRVGGER. KASTRIL.
THe Doctor is within, a mouing for you;
I haue had the most adoe to winne him to it;
He sweares, you'll be the Dearling o'the Dice:
He neuer heard her Highnes doate, till now.
Your Aunt has gi [...]'n you the most gracious words,
That can be thought on.
DAP.
Shall I see her Grace?
FAC.
See her, and kisse her too. What? honest Nab!
Ha'st brought the Damaske? Nab. No Sir, here's Tobacco.
FAC.
'Tis Well done. Thou'lt bring the Damasketoo?
DRV.
Yes, here's the Gentleman, Captaine, M r. Kastrill,
I haue brought to see the Doctor.
FAC.
Where's the Widdow?
DRV.
[Page]
Sir, as he likes, his Sister (he sayes) shall come.
FAC.
O, is it so? Good time. Is your name Kastrill, Sir?
KAS.
I, and the best o'the Kastrills, I'lld be sory else,
By fifteene hundred, a yeare Where is this Doctor?
My mad Tobacco-Boy, here, tells me of one,
That can doe things. Has he any skill?
FAC.
Wherein, Sir?
KAS.
To cary a business, manage a Quarrell, fayrely,
Vpon fit termes.
FAC.
It seemes Sir, yo' are but yong
About the towne, that can make that a question.
KAS.
Sir, not so yong, but I haue heard some speech
Of the angry Boyes, and seene'hem take Tobacco;
And in his shop: and I can take it too.
And I would faine be one of'hem, and goe downe
And practise i'the countrey.
FAC.
Sir, for the Duello,
The Doctor, I assure you, shall informe you,
To the least shadow of a hayre: and shew you,
An Instrument he has, of his owne making,
Wherewith, no sooner shall you make report
Of any Quarrell, but he will take the Height on't,
Most instantly; and tell in what Degree,
Of saf'ty it lies in, or mortalitie.
And, how it may be borne, whether in a right line,
Or a halfe-circle; or may, else, be cast
Into an angle blunt, if not acute:
All this he will demonstrate. And then, Rules,
To giue, and take the Lie, by.
KAS.
How? to take it?
FAC.
Yes, in oblique, hee'll shew you; or in circle:
But neuer in diameter. The whole Towne
Study his Theoremes, and dispute them, ordinarily.
At the eating Academies.
KAS.
But, dos he teach
Liuing, by the Witts, too?
FAC.
Any thing, what euer.
You cannot thinke that subtilty, but he reades it.
He made me a Captaine; I was a starke Pimpe,
Iusto'your standing, 'fore I met with him:
It i'not two months since. I'll tell you his method.
First, Hee will enter you, at some Ordinarie.
KAS.
[Page]
No, I'll not come there. You shall pardon me.
FAC.
For why, Sir?
KAS.
There's gaming there, and tricks.
FAC.
Why, would you be
A Gallant, and not game?
KAS.
I, 'twill spend a man.
FAC.
Spend you? It will repayre you, when you are spent.
How doe they liue by their wits, there, that haue vented
Sixe times your fortunes?
KAS.
What, three thousand a yeare?
FAC.
I, forty thousand.
KAS.
Are there such?
FAC.
I Sir.
And Gallants, yet. Here's a yong Gentleman,
Is borne to nothing, forty markes a yeare,
Which I count nothing. H'is to be initiated,
And haue a Flye o'the Doctor. He will winne you
By vnresistable luck, within this fortnight,
Inough to buy a Baronry. They will set him
Vpmost, at the Groome-Porters, all the Christmasse.
And, for the whole yeare through, at euery place,
Where there is play, present him with the Chayre,
The best attendance, the best drinke, sometimes
Two glasses of Canarie, and pay nothing;
The purest linnen, and the sharpest knife,
The Partrich next his trencher: and, somewhere,
The dainty bed, in priuate, with the Dainty.
You shall ha'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 butterd Shrimpes: and those, that drinke
To no mouth else, will drinke to his, as being
The goodly President-Mouth of all the boord.
KAS.
Doe you not gull one?
FAC.
God's my life! Doe you thinke it?
You shall haue a cast Commander, can but get
In credit with a Glouer, or a Spurrier,
For some two payre, of eythers ware, afore-hand,
Will, by most swift posts, dealing with him,
Arriue at competent meanes, to keepe himselfe,
His Punke, and naked Boy, in excellent fashion.
[Page] And be admir'd for't.
KAS.
Will the Doctor teach this?
FAC.
He will doe more, Sir, when your Land is gone,
(As men of Spirit hate to keepe earth long)
In a Vacation, when small money is stirring,
And Ordinaries suspended till the Tearme,
Hee'll shew a Perspectiue, where on one side
You shall behold the faces, and the persons
Of all sufficient yong Heyres, in towne,
Whose bonds are currant for commoditie;
On th'other side, the Merchants formes, and others,
That, without help of any second Broker,
(Who would expect a share) will trust such parcells:
In the third square, the very streete, and signe
Where the Commoditie dwels, and do's but wait
To be deliuer'd, be it Pepper, Sope,
Hopps, or Tobacco, Ote-meale, Woad, or Cheeses.
All which you may so handle, to enioy,
To your owne vse, and neuer stand oblig'd.
KAS.
I faith! Is he such a fellow?
FAC.
Why, Nab here knowes him.
And then for making matches, for rich Widdowes,
Yong Gentlewomen, Heyres, the fortunat'st Man!
Hee's sent too farre, and neare, all ouer England
To haue his counsell, and to know their Fortunes.
KAS.
Gods will, my Suster shall see him.
FAC.
I'll tell you, Sir,
What he did tell me of Nab. It's a strange thing,
(By the way you must eate no Cheese, Nab, it breedes Melan­choly:
And that same Melancholy breedes wormes) but passe it,
He told me honest Nab, here, was ne'er at Tauerne,
But once in's life.
DRV.
Truth, and no more I was not.
FAC.
And, then he was so sick—
DRV.
Could he tell you that, too?
FAC.
How should I know it?
DRV.
In troth wee had beene a shooting,
And had a peece of fat Ram-Mutton, to supper,
That lay so heauy o'my stomack—
FAC.
And he has no head
[Page] To beare any Wine; for, what with the noyse o'the Fiddlers,
And care of his shop, for he dares keepe no Seruants—
DRV.
My head did so ake—
FAC.
As he was faine to be brought home,
The Doctor told me. And then a good Old Woman—
DRV.
(Yes faith she dwels in Seacoale-lane) did cure me,
With sodden Ale, and Pellitorie o'the Wall;
Cost me but two pence. I had another sicknesse,
Was worse then that.
FAC.
I, that was with the griefe
Thou took st for b [...]ing seast at eighteene pence,
For the water-worke
DRV.
In truth, and it was like
T'haue cost me almost my life.
FAC
Thy hayre went off?
DRV.
Yes, Sir, twas done for spight
FAC.
Nay, so sayes the Doctor.
KAS.
Pray thee Tobacco-Boy, Goe fetch my Suster,
I'll see this learned Boy, before I goe:
And so shall [...]he.
FAC.
Sir, he is bu [...]e now:
But, if you haue a Sister to fetch [...],
Perhaps, your owne paines may command her sooner;
And he, by that time, will be free.
[...].
I goe, Sir.
FAC.
Drugger, shee's thine; the Damas [...]e. Subtle, and I
Must wrastle for her. Come on, M r. Dapper.
You see, how I turne Clients, here, away,
To giue your cause dispatch. Ha'you perform'd
The ceremonies were inioyn'd you?
DAP.
Yes, o'the Vinegar,
And the cleane shirt.
FAC.
'Tis well: that shirt may doe you
More Worship then you thinke. Your Aunt's a fire
But that she will not shew it, t'haue a sight on you.
Ha' you prouided for her Graces Seruants?
DAP.
Yes here are six-score Edward shillings.
FAC
Good.
DAP.
And an old Harry's Soueraigne.
FAC.
Very good.
DAP.
And three Iames shillings, and an Elizabeth groat,
Iust twenty nobles.
FAC.
O, you are too iust.
I would you had had the other Noble in Mari [...]s.
DAP.
I haue some Philip and Maries.
FAC
I those same
Are best of all. Where are they? Hearke, the Doctor.

ACT. 3. SCENE. 5.

SVBTLE. FACE. DAPPER. DOL.
IS yet her Graces Cossen come?
FAC.
He is come.
SVB.
And is he fasting?
FAC.
Yes.
SVB.
And hath cry'd Hum?
FAC.
Thrise, you must answere.
DAP.
Thrise.
SVB.
And as oft Buz?
FAC.
If you haue, say.
DAP.
I haue.
SVB.
Then, to her Cuz,
Hoping, that he hath vinegard his senses,
As he was bid, the Faery Queene dispenses,
By me, this Robe, the Peticoate of Fortune;
Which that he straight put on, she doth importune.
And though to Fortune neere be her Peticoate,
Yet, nearer is her Smock, the Queene doth note:
And, therefore, euen of that a piece she hath sent,
Which, being a Child, to wrap him in, was rent;
And prayes him, for a scarfe, he now will weare it
(With as much loue, as then her Grace did teare it)
About his eyes to shew, he is fortunate.
And, trusting vnto her to make his State,
Hee'll throw away all worldly pelfe, about him;
Which that hee will performe, she doth not doubt him.
FAC.
She need not doubt him, Sir Alasse, he has nothing,
But what he will part withall, as willingly,
Vpon her Graces word (Throw away your purse)
As she would aske it, (hand-kerchiefes, and all)
She cannot bid that thing, but hee'll obay.
If you haue a Ring, about you, cast it off,
Or a siluer seale, at your wrist, her Grace will send
Her Faeries here to search you, therefore deale
Directly with her Highnesse. If they finde
That you conceale a mite, you are vndone.
DAP.
Truely ther's all
FAC.
All what?
DAP.
My money, truly.
FAC.
Keepe nothing, that is transitorie, about you,
Bid [...] play musique. Looke, the [...] are come
To pinch you, if you tell not truth. Aduise you.
DAP.
[Page]
O, I haue a paper with a Spur-riall in't.
FAC.
Ti, ti,
They knew't, they say.
SVB.
Ti, ti, ti, ti, he has more yet.
FAC.
Ti, ti ti ti. I'the tother pocket?
SVB.
Titi, titi, titi, titi.
They must pinch him, or he will neuer confesse, they say.
DAP.
O, o.
FAC.
Nay, pray you hold. Hee is her Graces Ne­phew.
Ti ti ti? What care you? Good faith, you shall care.
Deale plainely, Sir, and shame the Faeries. Shew
You are an Innocent.
DAP.
By this good light, I ha'nothing,
SVB.
Ti ti, ti ti to ta. He dos aequiuocate, she sayes:
Ti, ti do ti, ti ti do, ti da. And sweares by the light, when he is blinded.
DAP.
By this good darke, I ha' nothing but a halfe-Crowne
Of Gold, about my wrist, that my Loue gaue me;
And a leaden Heart I wore, sin' she forsooke me.
FAC.
I thought, 'twas something. And, would you incurre
Your Aunts displeasure for these trifles? Come
I had rather you had throwne away twenty halfe-crownes.
You may weare your leaden Heart still. How now?
SVB.
What newes, Dol?
DOL.
Yonders your Knight, Sir Mammon.
FAC.
Gods lid, We neuer thought of him, till now.
Where is hee?
DOL.
Here, hard by. H'is at the doore.
SVB.
And, you are not ready, now? Dol, get his suite.
He must not be sent back.
FAC.
O by no meanes.
What shall we doe with this same Puffin, here,
Now hee's o'the Spit?
SVB.
Why lay him backe a while,
With some deuise, Ti, ti ti, ti ti ti. Would her Grace speake with me?
I come. Help Dol.
FAC.
Who's there? Sir Epicure;
My Master's i'the way. Please you to walke
Three or foure turnes, but till his back be turn'd,
And I am for you. Quickly, Dol.
SVB.
Her Grace
Commends her kindly to you, M r. Dapper.
DAP.
I long to see her Grace.
SVB.
She, now, is set
At Dinner, in her bed; and she has sent you,
From her owne priuate trencher, a dead Mouse,
[Page] And a piece of Ginger-bread, to be mery withall,
And stay your stomacke, least you faint with fasting.
Yet, if you could hold out, till she saw you, she sayes,
It would be better for you.
FAC.
Sir, He shall
Hold out, and 'twere this two howers, for her Highnes;
I can assure you that. We will not loose
All we ha' done.
SVB.
He must nor see, nor speake
To any body, till then.
FAC.
For that, we'll put Sir,
A stay in 'is mouth.
SVB.
Of what?
FAC.
Of Ginger-bread.
Make you it fit. He that hath pleas'd her Grace,
Thus farre, shall not now crinckle, for a little.
Gape Sir, and let him fit you.
SVB.
Where shall we now
Bestow him?
DOL.
I'the Priuy.
SVB.
Come along, Sir
I now must shew you Fortunes priuy lodgings.
FAC.
Are they perfum'd? and his bath ready?
SVB.
All.
Onely the Fumigation's somewhat strong.
FAC.
Sir Epicure,, I am yours, Sir, by and by.

ACT. 4.

SCENE. 1.

FACE. MAMMON. DOL.
O Sir, yo'are come i'the onely, finest time—
MAM.
Where's Master?
FAC.
Now preparing for pro­iection, Sir.
Your stuffe will b' all chang'd shortly.
MAM.
Into Gold?
FAC.
To Gold, and Siluer, Sir.
MAM.
Siluer I care not for.
FAC.
Yes, Sir, a little to giue Beggars.
MAM.
Where's the Lady?
FAC.
At hand, here. I ha' told her such braue things, on you,
Touching your bounty & your noble Spirit
MAM.
Hast thou?
FAC.
As she is almost in her fit to see you.
But, good Sir, no Diuinitie i'your conference
For feare of putting her in rage.
MAM.
I warrant thee.
FAC.
Sixe men will not hold her downe. And, then
If the Old man should heare, or see you.
MAM.
Feare not.
FAC.
The very House, Sir, would runne madd. You know it
How scrupulous he is, and violent,
'Gainst the least act of sinne. Physick, or Mathematiques,
[Page] Poetry, State, or Baudry (as I told you)
She will endure and neuer startle; But
No word of Controuer [...]ie.
MAM.
I am school'd, good Lungs.
FAC.
And you must praise her House, remember that,
And her Nob [...]
MAM.
Let me, aloue:
No He [...]ld, no nor A [...]tiquarie, Lu [...]gs,
Shall doe it better. Goe
FAC.
Why this is yet
A kinde of [...], to haue
Dol [...]ommon for a great Lady.
MAM.
Now, Epicure,
Heighten thy selfe, talke to her, all in Gold;
Rayne her as many showers as Ioue did dropps
Vnto his [...],: Shew the God a Mis [...]r,
Compa'rd with Mammon, What? the Stone will do't.
She shall feele Gold, tast Gold, heare Gold, sleepe Gold:
Nay, we will concumbere Gold. I will be puissant,
And mighty in my talke to her. Here she comes.
FAC.
To him, Dol, suckle him. This is the noble Knight,
I told your Ladiship.
MAM.
Madame, with your pardon,
I kisse your vesture.
DOL
Sir, I were vnciuill
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.
FAC.
Well said my Guiny- [...]
MAM.
Right noble Madam—
FAC.
O, we shall haue most fierce Idolatry!
MAM.
'Tis your Pr [...]rogatiue.
DOL.
Rather your Courtesie.
MAM.
Were there nought else t'inlarge your vertues, to me,
These answeres speake your breeding, and your blood.
DOL.
Blood wee boast none, Sir, a poore Baron's Daughter.
MAM.
Poore, and gat you? Prophane not, had your Father
Slept all the happy remnant of his life
After that act, [...] but there still, and panted,
H'had done inough to make himselfe, his issue,
And his posteritie noble
DOL.
Sir, although
We may besaid to [...] the guilt, and trappings,
The [...] of [...]; yet we stri [...]e to keepe.
The [...]eedes, and the [...].
MAM.
I doe see
The old [...], Vertue, was not lost,
[Page] Nor the Drug, Money, vs'd to make your compound.
There is a strange Nobilitie, i'your eye;
This lip, that chinne. Me thinkes you doe resemble
One o'the Austr [...]ack Princes.
FAC.
Very like,
Her Father was an Irish Coster-monger.
MAM.
The house of Valois, iust, had such a Nose;
And such a Fore-head, yet, the Medic [...]
Of Floren [...] boast.
DOL.
Troth, and I haue beene lik'ned
To all these Princ [...]s.
FAC.
I'll be sworne, I heard it.
MAM.
I know not, how; It is not any one,
Butee'n the very choise of all their features.
FAC.
I'll in, and laugh.
MAM
A certaine touch, or ayre,
That [...] a diu [...]itie, beyond
An earthly beauty.
DOL.
O, you play the Courtier.
MAM
Good Lady gi'me leaue.
DOL.
In faith, I may not,
To mock me, Sir.
MAM.
To burne i'this sweet flame:
The Phoe [...]x neuer knew a nobler death.
DOL.
Nay, now you court, the Courtier, and destroy
What you would build. This Art Sir, i'your words
Calls your whole faith in question
MAM.
By my soule.—
DOL.
Na [...] Othes are made o'the same ayre, Sir.
MAM.
Nature
Neuer bestow'd vpon mortalitie,
A more vnblam'd, a more harmonious feature:
She play'd the Step-dame in all faces, else.
Sweet Madame, le' me be particular.
DOL.
Particular, Sir? I pray you know your distance.
MAM.
In no ill sense, sweet Lady, but to aske
How your fayre Graces passe the howers? I see
Yo' are lodg'd, here, i'the house of a rare man,
An excellent Artist; But, what's that to you?
DOL.
Yes, Sir. I study here the M [...]thematiques,
And distillation.
MAM.
O, I cry your pardon.
H'is a Diuine Instructer, can extract
The soules of all things, by his art, call all
The vertues, and the miracles of the Sunne,
Into a temperate fornace: teach dull Nature
What her owne forces are. A man, the Emp'rour
[Page] Has courted, aboue Kelley: sent his medalls,
And chaines, t'invite him.
DOL.
I, and for his Physick, Sir.
MAM.
Aboue the art of Aesculapius,
That drew the enuy 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 Humor. But, this forme
Was not entended to so darke a vse.
Had you beene crooked, foule, of some course mould,
A Cloyster, had done well: but, such a feature
That might stand vp the Glory of a Kingdome
To liue recluse? is a mere solaecisme,
Though in a Nunnery. It must not be.
I muse, my Lord your Brother will permit it:
You should spend halfe my Land first, were I hee.
Dos not this Diamant better, on my finger,
Then i'the quarry?
DOL.
Yes.
MAM.
Why you are like it.
You were created, Lady, for light.
Heare, You shall weare it; take it, the first pledge
Of what I speake: to binde you, to beleeue me.
DOL.
In chaines of Adamant?
MAM.
Yes, the strongest bands:
And take a secret, too. Here, by your side,
Doth stand, this hower, the happiest man, of Europe.
DOL.
You are contented, Sir?
MAM.
Nay, in true being:
The enuy of Princes, and the feare of States.
DOL.
Say you so, Sir Epicure?
MAM.
Yes, and thou shalt proue it,
Daughter of Honor. I haue cast mine eye
Vpon thy forme, and I will reare this beauty.
Aboue all Stiles.
DOL.
You meane no treason, Sir?
MAM.
No, I will take away that iealousie.
I am the Lord, of the Philosophers Stone,
And thou the Lady.
DOL.
How Sir, ha' you that?
MAM.
I am the Master of the Maistry.
This day, the good Old wretch, here, o'the house
Has made it for vs. Now, hee's at proiection.
Thinke therefore, thy first wish, now; Let me heare it:
[Page] And it shall raine into thy lap, no shower,
But floods of Gold, whole cataracts, a deluge,
To get a Nation on thee.
DOL.
You are pleas'd, Sir,
To worke on the ambition of our sexe.
MAM.
I'am pleas'd, the Glory of her sexe should know,
This nooke, here, of the Friers, is no climate
For her, to liue obscurely in, to learne
Physick and Surgery, for the Constables wife
Of some odde Hundred in Essex; but come forth,
And tast the ayre of Palaces, eate, drinke
The toyles of Empricks, and their boasted practise:
Tincture of Pearle, and Corall, Gold, and Amber;
Be seene at Feasts, and Triumphs; haue it ask'd,
What Miracle she is? set all the Eyes
Of Court a fire, like a burning Glasse,
And worke 'hem into cinders; when the iewels
Of twenty States adorne thee; and the light
Strikes out the Starres; that, when thy name is mention'd,
Queenes may looke pale: and, we, but shewing our loue,
Nero's Poppaea may be lost in story.
Thus will we haue it.
DOL.
I could well consent, Sir.
But, in a Monarchy, how will this be?
The Prince will soone take notice, and both seize
You, and your Stone, it being a wealth vnfit
For any priuate subiect
MAM.
If he knew it.
DOL.
Your selfe do boast it, Sir.
MAM.
To thee, my Life.
DOL.
O, but beware, Sir. You may come to end
The remnant of your dayes, in a loth'd prison,
By speaking of it.
MAM.
'Tis no idle feare.
Wee'll therefore goe with all, my Girle, and liue
In a free State, where wee will eate our Mullets,
Sous'd in high-countrey Wines, sup Phesants egges,
And haue our Cockles, boyld in Siluer shells,
Our Shrimpes to swim again as when they liu'd,
In a rare butter, made of Dolphins milke,
Whose creame do's looke like Opalls: And, with these
Delicate meates, set our selues high for pleasure;
[Page] And take vs downe againe; and then renew
Our youth, and strength, with drinking the Elixir:
And so enioy a perpetuitie
Of life, and lust. And thou shalt ha' thy Wardrobe,
Richer then Natures, still, to change thy selfe,
And vary oftner, for thy pride, then shee:
Or Act, her wise, and almost-aequall seruant.
FAC.
Sir, you are too loud. I heare you, euery word,
Into the Laboratory: some fitter place,
The Garden, or great Chamber aboue. How like you her?
MAM.
Excellent, Lungs. There's for thee.
FAC.
But, doe you heare?
Good Sir beware, no mention of the Rabbines.
MAM.
We thinke not on 'hem.
FAC.
O, it is well, Sir. Subtle—

ACT. 4. SCENE. 2.

FACE. SVBTLE. KASTRIL. DAME PLIANT.
DOst thou not laugh?
SVB.
Yes. Are they gone?
FAC.
All's cleare.
SVB.
The Widdow is come.
FAC.
And your quarrelling Disciple?
SVB.
I.
FAC.
I must to my Captaine-ship againe, then.
SVB.
Stay, Bring 'hem in, first.
FAC.
So I meant. What is she?
A Bony-Bell? ?
SVB.
I know not.
FAC.
We'll draw lotts,
You'll stand to that?
SVB.
What else?
FAC.
O, for a suite,
To fall now, like a Curtine: Flap.
SVB.
To th'dore, man.
FAC.
You'll ha'the first kisse, 'cause I am not ready.
SVB.
Yes, and perhaps hit you through both the nostrills.
FAC.
Who would you speake with?
KAS.
Where's the Captaine?
FAC.
Gone, Sir,
About some busines.
KAS.
Gone?
FAC.
Hee'l returne straight.
But M r. Doctor, his Lieutenant, is here.
SVB.
Come nere, my Worshipfull Boy, my Terr [...] Fili,
That is, my Boy of Land; Make thy approches:
Welcome, I know thy lusts, and thy desires,
And I will serue, and satisfie 'hem. Beginne.
Charge me from thence, or thence, or in this line;
[Page] Here is my Center: Ground thy Quarrell.
KAS.
You lie.
SVB.
How, Child of wrath, and anger! The loud lie?
For what, my so daine Boy?
KAS.
Nay, that looke you too;
I am afore-hand.
SVB.
O, this's no true Grammar,
And as ill Logick. You must render causes, Child,
Your first, and second Intentions, know your Canons,
And your Diuisions, Moodes, Degrees, and Differences,
Your Praedicaments, Substance, and Accident,
Series externe, and interne, with their causes
Efficient, [...], formall, finall,
And ha' your el [...]ments perfect.
KAS.
What is this
The angry tongue he talkes in?
SVB.
That false praecept,
Of being aforehand, has deceiu'd a number;
And made 'hem enter Quarrells, oftentimes,
Before they were aware: and afterward.
Against their w [...]lls.
KAS.
How must I doe then, Sir?
SVB.
I cry this Lady mercy. She should, first,
Haue been saluted. I doe call you Lady,
Because you are to be one, ere't be long,
My soft, and buxome Widdow.
KAS.
Is she, i-faith?
SVB.
Yes, or my art is an egregio is liar.
KAS.
How know you?
SVB.
By inspection, on her forehead;
An [...] subtiltie of her lip, which must be tasted
Often, to make a [...]udgement 'Slight, she melts
Like a Myrobalane! Here is, yet, a line
In [...] frontis, tels me, he is no Knight.
PLI.
What is he then, Sir?
SVB.
Let me see your Hand.
O, your Linea F [...]rtunae makes it plaine;
And [...], here, in Monte veneris:
But, most of all, I [...]ctura annularis.
He is a Souldier, or a Man of Art, Lady:
But shall haue some great honour, shortly.
PLI.
Brother,
He's a rare man, beleeue me.
KAS.
Hold your peace.
Here comes the tother rare man. 'Saue you Captayne.
FAC
Good M r. Kastril. Is this your Sister?
KAS.
I Sir.
Please you to kusse her, and be proud to know her?
FAC.
I shall be proud to know you, Lady.
PLI.
Brother,
[Page] He calls me Lady, too.
KAS.
I, peace. I, heard it.
FAC
The Count is come.
SVB.
Where is he?
FAC.
At the dore.
SVB.
Why, you must entertaine him.
FAC.
What [...]ll you doe
With these the while?
SVB.
Why haue'hem vp, and shew'hem
Some Fustian Booke, or the Darke Glasse.
FAC.
'Fore God,
She is a delicate Dab chick! I must haue her.
SVB.
Must, you? I, if your fortune will, you must.
Come Sir, the Captaine will come to vs presently.
I'll ha'you to my Chamber of Demonstrations,
Where I'll shew you both the Grammar, and Logick,
And [...] of Quarrelling, my whole method,
Drawne out in Tables, and my Instrument,
That hath the seuerall Sca [...]e vpon't, shall make you
Able to quarrell, at a strawes breadth, by Moone-light.
And, Lady, I'll haue you looke in a Glasse,
Some halfe an hower, but to cleare your eye-sight,
Against you see your Fortune, which is greater,
Then I may iudge vpon the sodaine, trust mee.

ACT. 4. SCENE. 3.

FACE. SVBTLE. SVRLY.
VVHere are you, Doctor?
SVB.
I'll come to you presently.
FAC.
I will ha' this same Widdow, now I ha' seene her,
On any composition.
SVB..
What doe you say?
FAC.
Ha' you dispos'd of them?
SVB.
I ha' sent 'hem vp.
FAC
Subtle, in troth. I needs must haue this Widdow.
SVB.
Is that the matter?
FAC.
Nay, but heare me.
SVB.
Goe to
If you rebell once, Dol shall know it all.
Therefore, be quiet, and obey your chance.
FAC.
Nay, thou a [...]t so violent now. Do but conceiue,
Thou art old, and canst not serue—
SVB.
Who, cannot I?
'Sblood, I will serue her with thee, for a—
FAC.
Nay,
But vnderstand: I'll giue you composition.
SVB.
I will not treat with thee: what, sell my Fortune?
'Tis better then my Birth-right. Doe not murmure.
Winne her, and carry her. If you grumble, Dol
[Page] Knowes it directly.
FAC.
Well Sir, I am silent.
Will you goe help, to fetch in Don, in state?
SVB.
I follow you Sir, we must keepe Face in awe,
Or he will ouer-looke vs like a Tyranne.
Braine of a Taylor! Who comes here? Don Ion [...]
SVR.
Sennores, beso las manos, à vuestras mercedes.
SVB.
Would you had stoup'd a little, and kist our an [...]s.
FAC.
Peace Subtle.
SVB.
Stab me; I shall neuer hold, man.
He lookes in that deepe Ruffe, like a Head in a platter,
Seru'd in by a short Cloke vpon two tressils.
FAC.
Or, what doe you say to a Collar of Brawne, cut downe
Beneath the Souse, and wriggled with a knife?
SVB.
'Slud, he do's looke too fat to be a Spaniard.
FAC.
Perhaps some Fleming, or some Hollander got him
In D'alua's time: Count Egmonts Bastard.
SVB.
Don,
Your sciruy, yellow Madril face is welcome.
SVR.
Gratia.
SVB.
He speakes, out of a Fortification.
'Pray God, He ha' no squibs in those deepe sets.
SVR.
Por dios, Sennores, muy linda Casa!
SVB.
What sayes he?
FAC.
Praises the house, I thinke,
I know no more But's action.
SVB.
Yes, the Casa,
My precious Diego, will proue fayre inough,
To cossen you in. Doe you marke? you shall
Be cossened, Diego.
FAC.
Cossened, doe you see?
My worthy Donzel, Cossened.
SVR.
Ent [...]endo.
SVB.
Do you intend it? So doe we deare Don.
Haue you brought Pistolets? or Portagues?
My solemne D [...]n? Dost thou feele any?
FAC.
Full.
SVB.
You shall be emptied, Don; pumped, and drawne,
Dry, as they say.
FAC.
Milked, in troth, sweet Don.
SVB.
See all the Monsters; the great Lion of all, Don.
SVR.
Con licencia, se puede ver à esta Sennorà?
SVB.
What talkes he now?
FAC.
O' the Sennora.
SVB.
O, Don,
That is the Lionesse, which you shall see
Also [...] my Don.
FAC.
'Slid, Subtle, how shall we doe?
SVB.
For what?
FAC.
Why, Dol's employ'd, you know.
SVB.
That's true.
[Page] 'Fore heau'n I know not: He must stay, that's all.
FAC.
Stay? That he must not, by no meanes.
SVB.
No, Why?
FAC.
Vnlesse you'll marre all. 'Slight, Hee'li suspect it.
And then he will not pay, not halfe so well.
This is a trauell'd Punque-Master, and do's know
All the delayes: a notable hot Raskall,
And lookes, already, Rampant.
SVB.
S'death, and Mammon
Must not be troubled.
FAC.
Mamm [...]n, in no case!
SVB.
What shall we do then?
FAC
Thinke: you must be sodaine.
SVR.
Entiendo, que la Sennora es tan her mosa, q [...] [...] tan
à ver la, como la bien [...] de mi vida,
FAC.
Mi vida? 'Slid, Sub [...]le, he puts me in mind o'the Widdow.
What dost thou say to draw her [...] Ha?
And tell her, it is her Fortune. All our venter
Now lies vpon't. It is but one man more.
Which on's chance to haue her. And beside,
There is no Maiden head, to be fear'd, or lost.
What dost thou thinke on't, [...]?
SVB.
Who I? Why—
FAC.
The Credit of our house [...] is engag'd.
SVB.
You made me an offer for my share e're while.
What wilt thou g [...] [...]?
FAC.
O, by that light,
Ile not buy now. You know your doome to me.
E'en take your lot, obey your chance, Sir; winne her,
And weare her, out for me.
SVB.
'Slight. I'll not work her then.
FAC.
It is the common cause, therefore bethinke you.
Dol else must know it, as you said.
SVB.
I care not.
SVR.
[...], p [...]r que se tàrdatànta?
SVB.
Faith, I am not fit, I am old.
FAC.
That's now no reason, Sir.
SVR.
Puede, ser, de haz [...]r burla de miamor.
FAC.
You heare the Don, too? By this ayre, I call,
And loose the hinges. [...]ol.
SVB.
A plague of Hell—
FAC.
Will you then doe?
SVB.
Yo' are a terrible Rogue,
Ile thinke of this: will you, Sir, call the Widdow?
FAC.
Yes And [...]le take her [...]oo, with all her faults,
Now, I doe thinke on't better.
SVB.
With all my heart, Sir.
Am I discharg'd o'the lot.
FAC.
As you please.
SVB.
Hands.
FAC.
[Page]
Remember, now, that, vpon any change,
You neuer claime her.
SVB.
Much good ioy, and health to'you Sir.
Marry a Whore? Fate, let me wed a Witch, first.
SVR.
Por estas [...] barbas.
SVB.
He sweares by his beard.
Dispatch, and call the Brother too.
SVR.
Tiengo dùd [...], Sennores,
Que no me hágan algunatraycion.
SVB.
How, Issue on? Yes, praesto Sennor. Please you
Entratha the [...], worthy Don;
Where if it please the F [...]tes, in your B [...]thada,
You shall be [...]ok'd, and strok'd, and tub'd, and rub'd,
And scrub'd, and fub'd, deare Don, before you goe.
You shall in faith, my sciruie Babion Don;
Be curried, claw'd, and flaw'd, and taw'd, indeed.
I will the heartilier goe about it now,
And make the Widdow a Punke, so much the sooner,
To be reueng'd on this impetuous Face:
The quickly doing of it is the grace.

ACT. 4. SCENE. 4.

FACE. KASTRIL. Da: PLIANT. SVBTLE. SVRLY.
COme Lady: I knew, the Doctor would not leaue,
Till he had found the very nick of her fortune.
KAS.
To be a Countesse say you?
FAC.
A Spanish Countesse, Sir.
PLI.
Why? is that better then an English Countesse?
FAC.
Better? 'Slight, make you that a question, Lady?
KAS.
Nay, she is a foole, Captaine, you must pardon her.
FAC.
Aske from your Courtier, to your Innes of Court-man,
To your mere Millaner; They will tell you all
Your Spanish Iennet is the best Horse. Your Spanish
Stoupe is the best Garbe. Your Spanish Beard
Is the best Cut. Your Spanish Ruff [...]s are the best
Weare. Your Span [...] the best Daunce.
Your Spanish [...] in a Gloue
The best Perfume. And, for your Spanish Pike,
And Spanish Blade, let your poore Captaine speake.
Here comes the Doctor.
SVB.
My most honor'd Lady,
[Page] For so I am now to stile you, hauing found
By this my scheme, you are to vndergoe
An honourable fortune, very shortly.
What will you say now, if some—
FAC.
I ha 'told her all, Sir.
And her right worshipfull Brother, here, that she shall be
A Countesse: doe not delay 'hem Sir. A Spanish Countesse.
SVB.
Still, my scarse Worshipfull Captaine, you can keepe
No secret. Well, since he has told you, Madam,
Doe you forgiue him, and I doe
KAS.
She shall doe that, Sir.
I'le looke to't, 'tis my charge
SVB.
Well then. Nought rests
But that she fit her Loue, now, to her fortune.
PLI.
Truely, I shall neuer brooke a [...].
SVB.
No?
PLI
Neuer, sin eighty e [...]t could I abide'hem.
And that was some three yeare afore I was borne in truth.
SVB.
Come, you must loue him, or be miserable:
Choose, which you will.
FAC.
By this good rush, perswade her,
She will cry Straw-berrie else, within this twelue-month.
SVB.
Nay, Shads, and Mackr [...]ll, which is worse.
FAC.
Indeed, Sir?
KAS.
Gods lid. you shall loue him, or Ile kick you.
PLI.
Why?
Ile doe as you will ha' me, Brother.
KAS.
Doe,
Or by this hand I'll maull you.
FAC.
Nay good Sir.
Be not so fierce.
SVB.
No my enraged Child,
She will be rul'd. What when she comes to tast
The pleasures of a Countesse, to be courted—
FAC.
And kist, and ruffled—
SVB.
I, behind the hangings.
FAC.
And then come forth in pompe—
SVB.
And know her State—
FAC.
Of keeping all th' Idolaters o'the Chamber
Barer to her, then at their prayers—
SVB.
Is seru'd
Vpon the knee—
FAC.
And has her Pages, Huishers.
Footmen, & Coaches—
SVB.
Her six Mares—
FAC.
Nay eight—
SVB.
To hurry her through London, to th' Exchange,
Bet'lem, the China-Houses—
FAC.
Yes, and haue
The Citizens gape at her, and praise her Tires,
And My-Lords Goose turd bands, that rides with her.
KAS.
Most braue! By this hand, you are not my Suster,
If you refuse.
PLI.
I will not refuse, Brother.
SVR.
Que es èsto Se [...]ores, que non seve [...]ga?
[Page] Esta tardanza me mata!
FAC.
It is the Count come.
The Doctor knew he would be here, by his Art.
SVB.
En Gallanta Madama, Don! Gallantissima!
SVR.
Por todos los dioses, la mas acabada
Hermosùra, que he visto en mivìda!
FAC.
Is't not a gallant language that they speake?
KAS.
An admirable language! Is't not French?
FAC.
No Spanish, Sir.
KAS.
It goes like Law-French,
And that, they say, is the Court-liest language.
FAC.
List Sir.
SVR.
El Solha perdido su lumbre, con el
Resplandor, que tràe esta dama. Valga me dio [...]!
FAC.
He' admires your Sister.
KAS.
Must not she make curtsy?
SVB.
'Ods will, she must goe to him, Man; and kisse him:
It is the Spanish fashion, for the women
To make first court.
FAC.
'Tis true he tels you, Sir:
His Art knowes all.
SVR.
Por que no se acùde?
KAS.
He speakes to her, I thinke?
FAC.
That he do's Sir.
SVR.
Por el amor de dios, que es esto, que se tàrda?
KAS.
Nay, see: she will notvnderstand him. Gull.
Noddy.
PLI.
What say you Brother?
KAS.
Asse, my Suster,
Goe kusse him, as the Cunning man would ha' you.
I'll thrust a pinne i'your buttocks else.
FAC.
O, no Sir.
SVR.
Sennora mia, mi persona muy indignaesta
Alle gar àtànta Hermosura.
FAC.
Dos he not vse her brauely?
KAS.
Brauely, i-faith!
FAC.
Nay he will vse her better.
KAS.
Doe you thinke so?
SVR.
Sennora, si sera seruida, entremus.
KAS.
Where do's he carry her?
FAC.
Into the Garden, Sir,
Take you no thought, I must interpret for her.
SVB.
Giue Dol the word. Come my fierce Child. Aduance,
Wee'll to our quarrelling Lesson againe.
KAS.
Agreed.
I loue a Spanish Boy, with all my heart.
SVB.
Nay, and by this meanes, Sir, You shall be Brother
To a great Count.
KAS.
I, I knew that, at first.
This match will aduance the House of the Kastrils.
SVB.
'Pray God your Sister proue but pliant.
KAS.
Why,
[Page] Her name is so, by her other Husband.
SVB.
How!
KAS.
The Widdow Pliant. Knew you not that?
SVB.
No faith Sir.
Yet by erection of her Figure, I gest it.
Come, let's goe practise.
KAS.
Yes, but doe you thinke, Doctor.
I e'er shall quarrell well?
SVB.
I warrant you.

ACT. 4. SCENE. 5.

DOL. MAMMON. FACE. SVBTLE.
FOr after Alexanders death—
MAM.
Good Lady—
DOL.
That Perdiccas and Antigonus were slaine,
The two that stood, Seleuc', and Ptolomee—
MAM.
Madame.
DOL.
Made vp the two legs, and the fourth Beast.
That was Gog-North, and Egypt-South: which after
Was call'd Gog Iron-leg, and South Iron-leg—
MAM.
Lady—
DOL.
And then Gog-horned. So was Aegypt, too;
Then Aegypt Clay-leg, and Gog Clay-leg—
MAM.
Sweet Madame.
DOL.
And last Gog-Dust, and Aegypt-Dust: which fall
In the last linke of the fourth Chaine. And these
Be Starres in Story, which none see, or looke at—
MAM.
What shall I doe?
DOL.
For, as he sayes, except
We call the Rabbines, and the Heathen Greekes—
MAM.
Deare Lady.
DOL.
To come from Salem, & from Athens,
And teach the people of great Britaine—
FAC.
What's the matter, Sir?
DOL.
To speake the tongue of Eber, and Iauan—
MAM.
O,
Sh'is in her fit.
DOL.
We shall know nothing—
FAC.
Death, Sir,
We are vndone.
DOL.
Where, then, a learned Linguist
Shall see the antient vs'd communion
Of Vowels, and Consonants—
FAC.
My Master will heare!
DOL.
A Wisedome, which Pythagoras held most high—
MAM.
Sweet honorable Lady.
DOL.
To comprise
All sounds of voices, in few markes of Letters—
FAC.
Nay you must neuer hope to lay her now.
DOL.
[Page]
And so we may arriue by Talmud skill,
And profane Greeke, to raise the building vp
Of Helens house, against the Ismaelite,
King of Thogarma, and his Habergions
Brimstony, blew, and firy; and the force
Of King Abaddon, & the Beast of Cittim:
Which Rabbi Dauid Kimchi, Onkelos,
And Aben-Ezra doe interpret Rome.
FAC.
How did you put her into't?
MAM.
Alasse
Of a fift Monarchy I would erect,
Which the Philosophers stone ( [...]y chance) And
Falls on the other foure straight.
FAC.
Out of [...]
I told you so. 'Slid stop her mouth.
MAM
Is't
FAC.
She'll neuer leaue else. If the old man hea
VVe are but foeces, Ashes.
SVB.
VVhat's to doe
FAC.
O, we are lost. Now she heares him, she [...]
MAM.
Where shall I hide me?
SVB.
How! What sight is here?
Close deedes of Darknesse, and that shunne the light!
Bring him againe. Who is he? What, my Sonne?
O, I haue liu'd too long.
MAM.
Nay good, deare Father,
There was no'vnchast purpose.
SVB.
Not, and flee me,
When I come in?
MAM.
That was my Error.
SVB.
Error?
Guilt, guilt, my Sonne. Giue it the right Name. No maruaile,
If I found check in our great Worke within,
When such affayres as these were managing.
MAM.
Why, haue you so?
SVB.
It has gone back this halfe houre:
And all the rest of our lesse Workes stand still.
Where is the Instrument of wickednesse,
My lewd false Drudge?
MAM.
Nay good Sir blame not him.
Beleeue me, 'twas against his Will, or Knowledge.
I saw her by chance.
SVB.
Will you commit more sinne,
T'excuse a Varlet?
MAM.
By my hope, 'tis true Sir.
SVB
Nay, then I wonder lesse, if you, for whom
The blessing was prepar'd, would so tempt heauen:
And loose your fortunes.
MAM.
Why Sir?
SVB.
This will hinder
The Worke, a Month at least.
MAM.
Why, if it doe,
What remedie? but thinke it not, good Father:
Our purposes were honest.
SVB.
As they were,
So the reward will proue. How now! Aye me.
God, and all Saints be good to vs. What's that?
FAC.
O Sir, we are defeated: all the Workes
Are flowne in fumo. Euery Glasse is burst.
Fornace, and all rent downe: as if a Bolt
Of thunder had beene dri [...]en through the house.
Retorts, Receiuers, Pellicanes, Bolt-heads,
All strooke in shiuers. Help good Sir. Alasse,
[Page] Coldnesse, and Death inuades him. Nay, Sir Mammon,
Do the fayre offices of a man. You stand,
As you were readier to depart, then he.
Who's there? My Lord her Brother is come.
MAM.
Ha, Lungs?
FAC.
His Coach is at the dore. Auoid his sight,
For hee's as furious, as his Sister is mad.
MAM.
Alasse!
FAC.
My braine is quite vndone with the fume, Sir,
I ne'er must hope to be mine owne man againe.
MAM.
Is all lost, Lungs? Will nothing be preseru'd,
Of all our cost?
FAC.
Faith, very little, Sir.
A peck of coales, or so, which is cold comfort, Sir.
MAM.
O my voluptuous minde! I am iustly punish'd.
FAC.
And so am I, Sir.
MAM.
Cast from all my hopes—
FAC.
Nay, certainties Sir.
MAM.
By mine owne base affections.
SVB.
O the curst fruits of vice, and lust!
MAM.
Good Father,
It was my sinne. Forgiue it.
SVB.
Hangs my roofe
Ouer vs still, and will not fall, O Iustice,
Vpon vs, for this wicked man!
FAC.
Nay, looke, Sir,
You grieue him, now, with staying in his sight:
Good Sir, the Noble man will come too, and take you,
And that may breed a Tragedy.
MAM.
I'll goe.
FAC.
I, and repent at home, Sir. It may be,
For some good penance, you may ha' it, yet
A hundred pound to the Boxe at Bet'lem.
MAM.
Yes.
FAC.
For the restoring such as ha' their wits.
MAM.
I'll do't.
FAC.
Ile send one to you to receiue it.
MAM.
Doe.
Is no Proiection left?
FAC.
All flowne, or stinkes, Sir.
MAM.
Wil naught be sau'd, that's good for med'cine, thinkst tho [...]?
FAC.
I cannot tell Sir. There will be, perhaps,
Something, about the scraping of the Shardes,
Will cure the Itch, though not your itch of minde, Sir.
It shall be sau'd for you, and sent home. Good Sir,
This way, for feare the Lord should meet you.
SVB.
Face.
FAC.
I.
SVB.
Is he gone?
FAC.
Yes, and as heauily
As all the Gold he hop'd for, were in his bloud.
Let vs be light, though.
SVB.
I, as Balls, and bound
And hit our heads against the roofe for ioy.
[Page] There's so much of our care now cast away.
FAC.
Now to our Don.
SVB.
Yes, your yong Widdow, by this time
Is made a Countesse, Face: Sh' has beene in trauaile
Of a yong Heyre for you.
FAC.
Good, Sir.
SVB.
Off with your case,
And greet her kindly, as a Bridegroome should.
After these common hazards.
FAC.
Very well, Sir.
Will you goe fetch Don Diego off the while?
SVB.
And fetch him ouer too, if you'll be pleas'd Sir:
Would Dol were, in her place, to pick his pockets now.
FAC.
Why you can do it as well, if you would set to't.
I pray you proue your vertue.
SVB.
For your sake, Sir.

ACT. 4. SCENE. 6.

SVRLY. Da: PLIANT. SVBTLE. FACE.
LAdy, you see into what hands, you are falne;
Mongst what a Nest of villaines! and how neare
Your honor was t'haue catch'd a certaine clap
(Through your credulitie) had I but beene
So punctually forward, as Place. Time,
And other circumstance would ha' made a man.
For yo' are a handsome woman: would yo' were wise, too.
I am a Gentleman, come here disguis'd,
Onely to finde the Knaueries of this Citadell,
And where I might haue wrong'd your honor, and haue not,
I claime some interest in your loue. You are,
They say, a Widdow, rich: and I am a Bateheler,
Worth naught. Your fortunes may make me a man,
As mine ha' preseru'd you a woman. Thinke vpon it,
And whether, I haue deseru'd you, or no.
PLI.
I will, Sir.
SVR.
And for these Houshold-Rogues, let me alone.
To treat with them.
SVB.
How doth my noble Diego?
And my deare Madame, Countesse? Hath the Count
Beene courteous, Lady? liberall? and open?
Donzell, me thinkes you looke melancholike,
After your Coitum, and scuruy! True-ly,
I doe not like the dulnesse of your eye:
It hath a heauy cast, 'tis vpsee Dutch,
[Page] And say's you are a lumpish Whore-master.
Be lighter, I will make your pockets so.
SVR.
Will you, Don Baud, and Pick-purse? How now? Reele you?
Stand vp Sir, you shall finde since I am so heauy,
I'll gi' you aequall weight.
SVB.
Help, Murder.
SVR.
No Sir.
There's no such thing intended. A good Cart,
And a cleane Whip shall ease you of that feare.
I am the Spanish Don, that should be cossened,
Doe you see? cossened. Where's your Captaine Face?
That parcell-Broker, and whole-Baud, all Raskall.
FAC.
How, Surly!
SVR.
O, make your approach, good Captaine.
I'haue found, from whence your Copper Rings, and Spoones
Come now, wherewith you cheate abroad in Tauernes.
'Twas here, you learn'd t' annoint your boote with Brimstone,
Then rub mens Gold on't, for a kinde of touch,
And say 'twas naught, when you had chang'd the colour,
That you might ha't for nothing. And this Doctor,
Your sooty, smoaky-bearded Compeere, He
Will close you so much Gold, in a Bolts-head,
And, on a turne, conuay (i'the stead) another
With sublim'd Mercury, that shall burst i' [...]he heate,
And flye out all in fumo. Then weepes Mammon.
Then swounes his Worship. Or he is the Faustus,
That casteth figures, and can coniure, cures
Plague, Piles, and Poxe, by the Ephemerides,
And holds intelligence, with all the Baudes,
And Midwiues of three Shires. While you send in—
Captaine, (what is he gone?) Dam'sells with child,
Wiues, that are barren, or, the waiting-Maide
With the Greene-sicknesse. Nay Sir, you must tarry
Though he be scap't; and answere, by the eares, Sir.

ACT. 4. SCENE. 7.

FACE. KASTRIL. SVRLY, SVBTLE. DRVGGER. ANANIAS. Da: PLIANT. DOL.
VVHy, now's the time, if euer you will quarrell
Well (as they say) and be a true-borne Child.
[Page] The Doctor, and your Sister both are abus'd.
KAS.
Where is he? Which is he? He is a Slaue
What ere he is, and the Sonne of a Whore. Are you
The Man, Sir, I would know?
SVR.
I should be loth, Sir,
To confesse so much.
KAS.
Then you lie, i' your throte.
SVR.
How?
FAC.
A very errant Rogue, Sir, and a Cheater,
Employd here, by another Coniurer,
That dos not loue the Doctor, and would crosse him
If he knew how—
SVR.
Sir you are abus'd.
KAS.
You lie,
And 'tis no matter.
FAC.
Well said, Sir. He is
The impudent'st Raskall—
SVR.
You are indeed. Will you heare me, Sir?
FAC.
By no meanes. Bid him be gone.
KAS.
Be gone Sir, quickly.
SVR.
This's strange! Lady, doe you informe your Brother.
FAC.
There is not such a Foyst, in all the towne,
The Doctor had him, presently: And findes, yet,
The Spanish Count will come, here. Beare vp, Subtle.
SVB.
Yes Sir, he must appeare, within this hower.
FAC.
And yet this Rogue, would come, in a disguise,
By the temptation of another Spirit,
To trouble our Art, though he could not hurt it.
KAS.
I,
I know—Away, you talke like a foolish Mauther.
SVR.
Sir, all is truth, she says.
FAC.
Doe not beleeue him, Sir:
He is the lying'st Swabber. Come your wayes, Sir.
SVR.
You are valiant out of Company.
KAS.
Yes, how then Sir?
FAC.
Nay, here's an honest fellow too, that knowes him,
And all his tricks. Make good what I say, Abel,
This Cheater would ha' cossen'd thee o'the Widdow.
He owes this honest Drugger, here, seuen pound,
He has had on him, in two-peny'orths of Tabacco.
DRV.
Yes Sir. And he hath damn'd himselfe three termes, to pay me.
FAC.
And what do's he owe for Lotium?
DRV.
Thirty shillings, Sir:
And for six Syringes.
SVR.
Hydra of villany!
FAC.
Nay, Sir you must quarrell him out o'the house.
KAS.
I will.
Sir, if you get not out o' doores, you lie,
And you are a Pimpe.
SVR.
Why this is madnesse, Sir,
[Page] Not valure in you: I must laugh at this.
KAS.
It is my humor: you are a Pimpe, and a Trig,
And an Amadis de Gaule, or a Don Quixote.
DRV.
Or a Knight o'the curious coxcombe. Doe you see?
ANA.
Peace to the Houshold.
KAS.
Ile keepe peace, for no man.
ANA.
Casting of Dollers is concluded lawfull.
KAS.
Is he the Constable?
SVB.
Peace Ananias.
FAC.
No, Sir.
KAS.
Then you are an Otter, and a Shad, a Whit,
A very Tim.
SVR.
You'll heare me Sir?
KAS.
I will not.
ANA.
What is the Motiue.
SVB.
Zeale, in the yong Gentleman,
Against his Spanish slops.
ANA.
They are profane,
Leud, superstitious, and idolatrous Breeches.
SVR.
New Raskals!
KAS.
Will you be gone, Sir?
ANA.
Auoid Sathan,
Thou art not of the light. That Ruffe of pride,
About thy neck, betrayes thee: 'and is the same
With that, which the vncleane Birds, in seuenty-seuen,
Were seene to pranke it with, on diuers coasts.
Thou look'st like Antichrist, in that leud hat.
SVR.
I must giue way.
KAS.
Be gone Sir.
SVR.
But ile take
A course with you—
ANA.
Depart, proud Spanish Fiend.
SVR.
Captaine, and Doctor.
ANA.
Child of perdition.
KAS.
Hence Sir.
Did I not quarrell brauely?
FAC.
Yes indeed Sir.
KAS.
Nay and I giue my minde to't, I shall do't,
FAC.
O you must follow Sir, and threaten him tame.
Hee'll turne againe else.
KAS.
I'll re-turne him, then.
FAC.
Drugger, this Rogue preuented vs, for thee:
We' had determin'd, that thou shouldst ha' come,
In a Spanish sute, and ha' carried her so; and he
A Brokerly slaue, goes, puts it on himselfe.
Hast brought the Damask?
DRV.
Yes Sir.
FAC.
Thou must borrow,
A Spanish suite. Hast thou no credit with the Players?
DRV.
Yes Sir, did you neuer see me play the Poole?
FAC.
I know not Nab. Thou shalt, if I can help it.
Hieronimo's old Cloke, Ruffe, and Hat will serue:
Ile tell thee more, when thou bringst 'hem.
ANA.
Sir, I know
[Page] The Spaniard hates the Brethren, and hath Spies
Vpon their Actions: And that this was one
I make no scruple. But the holy Synode
Haue beene in prayer, and meditation, for it.
And 'tis reueald no lesse, to them, then mee,
That casting of Money is most lawfull.
SVB.
True.
But here, I cannot doe it; if the House
Should chance to be suspected, all would out.
And we be lock'd vp, in the Tower, for euer,
To make Gold there: (for th' state) neuer come out.
And, then, are you defeated.
ANA.
I will tell
This to the Elders, and the weaker Brethren,
That the whole Company of the Separation
May ioyne in humble prayer againe,
(SVB.
And fasting.)
ANA.
Yea, for some fitter place. The Peace of minde
Rest with these walles.
SVB.
Thankes, courteous Ananias.
FAC.
What did he come for?
SVB.
About casting Dollers,
Presently, out of hand. And so, I told him,
A Spanish Minister came here to spie
Against the Faithfull—
FAC.
I conceiue. Come Subtle,
Thou art so downe vpon the least disaster!
How wouldst tho' ha' done, if I had not helpt thee out?
SVB.
I thanke thee Face, for the Angry Boy, i.faith.
FAC.
Who would ha'lookt, it should ha'beene that Raskall?
Surly? He had dy'd his beard, and all. Well, Sir,
Here's Damask come, to make you a suite.
SVB,
Where's Drugger?
FAC.
He is gone to borrow me a Spanish habite,
Ile be the Count, now.
SVB.
But where's the Widdow?
FAC.
Within, with my Lords Sister: Madame Dol
Is entertaining her.
SVB.
By your fauour, Face,
Now she is honest, I will stand againe.
FAC.
You will not offer it?
SVB.
Why?
FAC.
Stand to your word,
Or—Here comes Dol. She knows—
SVB.
Yo' are tyrannous still.
FAC.
Strict for my right. How now, Dol? Hast'told her,
The Spanish Count will come?
DOL.
Yes, but another is come,
You little look'd for.
FAC.
Who's that?
DOL.
Your Master:
The Master of the House.
SVB.
How Dol?
FAC.
She lies.
[Page] This is some trick. Come leaue your Quiblins, Dorothee.
DOL.
Looke out, and see.
SVB.
Art thou in earnest?
DOL.
'Slight
Forty o'the Neighbours are about him, talking.
FAC.
'Tis he, by this good day.
DOL.
'Twill proueill day,
For some on vs.
FAC.
We are vndone, and taken.
DOL.
Lost, I am afraid.
SVB.
You said he would not come,
While there dyed one a Weeke, within the Liberties.
FAC.
No: 'twas within the Walls.
SVB.
Was't so? Cry' you mercy:
I thought the Liberties. What shall we doe now, Face?
FAC.
Be silent, not a word, if he call, or knock.
I'll into mine old shape againe, and meet him,
Of Ieremie, the Butler. I' the meane time,
Doe you two pack vp all the goods, and purchase,
That we can carry i'the two trunkes. I'll keepe him
Off for to day, if I cannot longer: And then
At night, Ile ship you both away to Ratcliffe,
Where wee'll meet to morrow, and then wee'll share.
Let Mammon's Brasse, and Peuter keep the Cellar:
Wee'll haue another time for that. But, Dol,
'Pray thee goe heate a little water, quickly,
Subtle must shaue me. All my Captaines beard
Must off, to make me appeare smooth Ieremy.
You'll do't?
SVB.
Yes Ile shaue you, as well as I can.
FAC.
And not cut my throte, but trim me?
SVB.
You shall see, Sir.

ACT. 5.

SCENE. 1.

LOVE-WIT. NEIGHBOVRS.
HAs there beene such resort, say you?
NEI. 1.
Daily, Sir.
NEI. 2.
And nightly, too.
NEI. 3.
I, some as braue as Lords.
NEI. 4.
Ladies, & Gentlewomen.
NEI. 5.
Citizens Wiues.
NEI. 1.
And Knights.
NEI. 6.
In Coaches.
NEI. 2.
Yes and Oyster-women.
NEI. 1.
Beside other Gallants.
NEI. 3.
Saylors Wiues.
NEI. 4.
Ta­bacco-men.
NEI. 5.
Another Pimlico.
LOV.
What should my Knaue aduance,
To draw this company? He hung out no Banners
Of a strang [...] Calfe, with fiue legs, to be seene?
[Page] Or a huge Lobstar, with six clawes?
NEI. 6.
No Sir.
NEI. 3.
We had gone in, then, Sir.
LOV.
He has no guift
Of Teaching i'the nose, that ere I knew of!
You saw no Bils set vp, that promis'd cure
Of Agues, or the Tooth-ach?
NEI. 2.
No such thing, Sir.
LOV.
Nor heard a Drum strooke, for Babouns, or Puppets?
NEI. 5
Neither Sir.
LOV.
What deuise should he bring forth now?
I loue a teeming wit, as I loue my nourishment.
'Pray God he ha' not kept such open house,
That he hath sold my hangings, and my bedding:
I left him nothing else. If he haue eate 'hem,
A plague o' the Moath, say I. Sure he has got
Some baudy Pictures, to call all this Ging;
The Frier, and the Nun; or the new M [...]tion
Of the Knights Courser, couering the Parsons Mare;
The Boy of six yeare old, with the great thing:
O [...]'t may be, he has the fleas that runne at [...]ilt,
Vpon a Table, or some Dog to Daunce?
When saw you him?
N [...]I. 1.
Who Sir, Ieremie?
NEI. 2.
Ieremie Butler?
We saw him not, this mont'h.
LOV.
How!
NEI. 4.
Not these fiue weekes, Sir.
NEI.
These six weekes, at the least.
LOV.
Yo' amaze me, Neigh­bours.
NEI. 5.
Sure, if your Worship know not where he is,
Hee's flipt away.
NEI. 6.
Pray God, he be not made away.
LOV.
Ha? It's no time to question, then.
NEI. 6.
About
Some three weekes since, I heard a dolefull cry,
As I sate vp, a mending my wiues stockings.
LOV.
This's strange! that none will answere! Didst thou heare
A cry, saist thou?
NEI. 6.
Yes Sir, like vnto a Man
That had beene strangled an hower, and could not speake.
NEI. 2.
I heard it too, iust this day three weekes, at two a clock
Next morning.
LOV.
These be miracles, or you make 'hem so!
A man an hower strangled, and could not speake,
And both you heard him cry?
NEI. 3.
Yes, downward, Sir.
LOV.
Thou art a wise fellow. Giue me thy hand, I pray thee.
[Page] What trade art thou, on?
NEI. 3.
A Smith, and't please your Worship.
LOV.
A Smith? Then, lend me thy help, to get this dore open.
NEI. 3.
That I will presently, Sir, but fetch my tooles—
NEI. 1.
Sir. Best to knock againe afore you breake it.

ACT..5 SCENE. 2.

LOVE-Wit. FACE. NEIGHBOVRS.
I Will.
FAC.
What meane you Sir?
NEI. 1.2.4.
O, Here's [...]
FAC.
Good Sir, Come from the dore.
Lov.
Why? what's the matter?
FAC.
Yet farder, you are to neare, yet.
LOV.
I'the name of wonder,
What meanes the fellow?
FAC.
The House, Sir, has beene visited.
LOV.
What? with the Plague? stand thou thē farder.
FAC.
No, Sir.
I had it not.
LOV.
Who had it then? I left
None else, but thee, i'the house.
FAC.
Yes, Sir. My Fellow,
The Cat, that kept the Buttry, had it on her
A weeke, before I spied it: But I got her
Conuay'd away, i'the night. And so I shut
The house vp for a Month-
LOV.
How!
FAC.
Purposing thē, Sir.
T' haue burnt Rose-vinegar, Triackle, and Tarre,
And, ha' made it sweet, that you should ne'er ha'knowne it:
Because I knew the Newes would but afflict you, Sir.
LOV.
Breath lesse, and farder off. Why this is stranger!
The Neighbors tell me all, here, that the Dores
Haue still been open.
FAC.
How Sir?
LOV.
Gallants, Men, and Women,
And of all sorts, tag-rag, beene seene to flock here
In threaues, these ten weekes, as to a second Hogs-den,
In dayes of Pimlico, and Eye-bright.
FAC.
Sir.
Their wisedomes will not say so.
LOV.
To day, they speake
Of Coaches, and Gallants; one in a French-hood,
Went in, they tell me: and another was seene
In a Veluet Gowne, at the windore. Diuerse more
Passe in and out.
Fac.
They did passe through the dores then,
Or walls, I assure their Eyesights, and their Spectacles;
For here, Sir, are the keyes; and here haue beene,
In this my pocket, now, abou [...] twenty dayes.
[Page] And for before, I kept the Fort alone, there.
But that 'tis yet not deepe i'the afternoone,
I should beleeue my Neighbours had seene double
Through the Black-pot, and made these apparitions:
For, on my faith to your Worship, for these three weekes
And vpwards, the dore has not beene open'd.
LOV.
Strange!
NEI. 1.
Good faith, I thinke I saw a Coach!
NEI. 2.
And I too,
I'lld ha' beene sworne!
LOV.
Doe you but thinke it now?
And but one Coach?
NEI. 4.
We cannot tell, Sir. leremy
Is a very honest fellow.
FAC.
Did you see me at all?
NEI. 1.
No. That we are sure on.
NEI. 2.
I'll be sworne o'that.
LOV.
Fine Rogues, to haue your testimonies built on!
NEI. 3.
Is Ieremy come?
MEI. 1.
O yes, you may leaue your tooles,
We were deceiu'd he saies.
NEI. 2.
He has had the keyes,
And the dore has bin shut these three weeks.
NEI. 3.
Like enough.
LOV.
Peace, and get hence, you Changelings.
FAC.
Surly come!
And Mammon made acquainted? They'll tell all.
(How shall I beate them off? What shall I doe?)
Nothing's more wretched, then a guilty conscience.

ACT. 5. SCENE. 3.

SVRLY. MAMMON. LOVE-Wit. FACE. NEIGHBOVRS. KASTRIL. ANA. TRIBVLATION. DAPPER. SVBTLE.
NO Sir, He was a great Phisitian. This,
It was no Baudy-house: But a meere Chancell.
You knew the Lord, and his Sister.
MAM.
Nay good Surly—
SVR.
The happy word, Be rich—
MAM.
Play not the Tyranne—
SVR.
Should be to day pronounc'd, to all your friends.
And where be your Andirons now? And your Brasse Pots?
That should ha'beene Golden Flaggons, and great Wedges?
MAM.
Let me but breath. What! They ha'shut their dores,
Me thinkes.
SVR.
I, now, 'tis Holyday with them.
MAM.
Rogues,
Coseners, Impostors, Baudes.
FAC.
What meane you, Sir?
MAM.
To enter if we can.
FAC.
Another mans house?
Here is the Owner, Sir. Turne you to him,
And speake your businesse.
MAM.
Are you, Sir, the Owner?
LOV.
Yes, Sir.
MAM.
And are those Knaues, within, your Cheaters?
LOV.
[Page]
What Knaues? What Cheaters?
MAM.
Subtle, & his Lungs.
FAC.
The Gentleman is distracted, Sir. No Lungs
Nor Lights ha'beene seene here these three weekes, Sir,
Within these dores, vpon my word.
SVR.
Your word,
Groome arrogant?
FAC.
Yes Sir, I am the House-keeper,
And know the keyes ha'not beene out o'my hands.
SVR.
This's a new Face!
FAC.
You doe mistake the house, Sir.
What signe was't at?
SVR.
You Raskall. This is one
O' the Confederacie. Come let's get Officers!
And force the dore.
LOV.
'Pray you stay, Gentlemen.
SVR.
No, Sir, wee'll come with warrant.
MAM
I, and then,
We shall ha'your dores open.
LOV.
What meanes this?
FAC.
I cannot tell Sir.
NEI. 1.
These are two o'the Gallants,
That we doe thinke we saw.
FAC.
Two o' the Fooles?
You talke as idly as they. Good faith, Sir,
I thinke the Moone has cras'd 'hem all. (O me,
The angry Boy come too? Hee'll make a noyse
And nere away till he haue betrayed vs all.)
KAS.
What Rogues, Baudes, Slaues, you'il open the dore anone.
Punque, Cocatrice, my Suster. By this light
I'll fetch the Marshall to you. You are a Whore,
To keepe your Castle.
FAC.
Who would you speake with, Sir?
KAS.
The baudy Doctor, and the Cosening Captaine,
And Pus my Suster.
LOV.
This is something, sure!
FAC.
Vpon my trust, the dores were neuer open, Sir.
KAS.
I haue heard all their tricks, told me twice ouer,
By the fat Knight, and the leane Gentleman.
LOV.
Here comes another.
FAC.
Ananias too?
And his Pastor?
TRI.
The dores are shut against vs.
ANA.
Come forth, you Seed of Vipers, Sonnes of Belial,
Your wickednesse is broke forth: Abhomination
Is in the House.
KAS.
My Suster's there.
ANA.
The place,
It is become a Cage of vncleane birds.
KAS.
I, I will fetch the Scauenger, and the Cunstable.
TRI.
You shall doe well.
ANA.
Wee'll ioyne, to weede them out.
KAS.
You will not come then? Punque, Deuise, my Suster?
ANA.
Call her not Sister. She is a Harlot, verily.
KAS.
[Page]
I'll raise the street.
LOV.
Good Gentlemen, a word.
ANA.
Sathan, auoide, and hinder not our zeale.
LOV.
The world's turn'd Bet'lem.
FAC.
These are all broke loose,
Out of S. Katherines, where they vse to keepe,
The better sort of Mad-folkes.
NEI. 1.
All these Persons
We saw goe in, and out here.
NEI. 2.
Yes, indeed Sir.
NEI. 3.
These were the Parties.
FAC.
Peace, you Drunkards. Sir,
I wonder at it! Please you, to giue me leaue
To touch the dore, I'll try and the Lock be chang'd.
LOV.
It mazes me!
FAC.
Good faith, Sir, I beleeue,
There's no such thing. 'Tis all Deceptio visus.
Would I could get him away.
DAP.
M r. Captaine. M r. Doctor.
LOV.
Who's that?
FAC.
(Our Clearke within, that I forgot) I know not, Sir.
DAP.
For Gods sake, when will her Grace be at leasure?
FAC.
Ha!
Illusions, some spirit o'the ayre: (His gag is melted,
And now he sets out the throte.)
DAP.
I am almost stifled—
(FAC.
Would you were altogether.)
LOV.
'Tis i'the house.
Ha! List.
FAC.
Beleeue it Sir, i'the ayre.
LOV.
Peace, you—
DAP.
Mine Aunts Grace dos not vse me well.
SVB.
You Foole,
Peace, you'll marre all.
FAC.
Or you will else, you Rogue.
LOV.
O, is it so? Then you conuerse with spirits.
Come Sir. No more o'your tricks, good leremy,
The truth, the shortest way.
FAC.
Dismisse this rabble, Sir.
What shall I doe? I am catch'd.
LOV.
Good Neighbours,
I thanke you all. You may depart. Come Sir,
You know that I am an indulgent Master:
And therefore conceale nothing. What's your med'cine,
To draw so many seuerall sorts of wild-foule?
FAC.
Sir, you were wont to affect mirth, and wit.
But here's no place to talke on't i'the street.
Giue me but leaue, to make the best of my fortune,
And onely pardon me th'abuse of your House.
It's all I begge. I'll help you to a Widdow,
In recompence, that you shall gi'me thankes for,
Will make you seauen yeeres yonger, and a rich one.
'Tis but your putting on a Spanish Cloake,
[Page] I haue her within. You neede not feare the House,
It was not visited.
LOV.
But by me, who came
Sooner then you expected.
FAC.
It is true, Sir.
Pray you forgiue me.
LOV.
Well: Let's see your Widdow.

ACT. 5. SCENE. 4.

SVBTLE. DAPPER. FACE. DOL.
HOw! ha' you eaten your gag?
DAP.
Yes faith, it crumbled
Away i' my mouth.
SVB.
You ha' spoil'd all then.
DAP.
No,
I hope my Aunt of Faery will forgiue me.
SVB.
Your Aunt's a gracious Lady, but intruth
You were to blame.
DAP.
The fume did ouercome me,
And I did do't to stay my stomack. 'Pray you
So satisfie her Grace. Here comes the Captaine.
FAC.
How now! Is his mouth downe?
SVB.
I, he has spoken!
FAC.
(A poxe, I heard him, and you too.) Hee's vndone, then.
I haue beene faine to say, the House is haunted
With Spirits, to keepe Churle back.
SVB.
And hast thou done it?
FAC.
Sure, for this night.
SVB.
Why then triumph, and sing
Of Face so famous, the precious King
Of present wits.
FAC.
Did you not heare the coyle,
About the dore?
SVB.
Yes, and I dwindled with it.
FAC.
Shew him his Aunt, and let him be dispatch'd:
I'll send her to you.
SVB.
Well Sir, your Aunt her Grace,
Will giue you audience presently, on my sute,
And the Captaines word, that you did not eate your gag,
In any contempt of her Highnesse.
DAP.
Not I, in troth, Sir.
SVB.
Here she is come. Downe o' your knees, and wriggle:
She has a stately presence. Good. Yet nearer,
And bid God saue her.
DAP.
Madame.
SVB.
And your Aunt.
DAP.
And my most Gracious Aunt, God saue your Grace.
DOL.
Nephew, we thought to haue been angry, with you;
But that sweet face of yours, hath turn'd the tide,
And made it flow with Ioy, that eb'd of Loue.
Arise, and touch our veluet Gowne.
SVB.
The Skirts,
And kisse'hem. So.
DOL.
Let me now stroke that head.
Much, Nephew, shalt thou winne; much shalt thou spend;
[Page] Much shalt thou giue away, much shalt thou Lend.
SVB.
I, much indeede. Why doe you not thanke her Grace?
DAP.
I cannot speake, for Ioy.
SVB.
See, the kinde wretch!
Your Graces kins-man right.
DOL.
Giue me the Bird.
Here is your Flye in a Purse, about your neck, Cosen,
Weare it, and feede it, about this day seu' night,
On your right wrist.
SVB.
Open a veyne, with a Pinne,
And let it suck but once a weeke. Till then,
You must not looke on't.
DOL.
No. And Kinsman,
Beare your selfe worthy of the blood you come on.
SVB.
Her Grace would ha' you eate no more Wool-sack pies,
Nor Dagger Frumenty.
DOL.
Nor breake his fast,
In Heauen, and Hell.
SVB.
Shee's with you euery where.
Nor play with Coster-mongers at Mum-chance, Tray-trip,
God make you rich (when as your Aunt has done it:) but keepe
The Gallant'st company, and the best Games.
DAP.
Yes, Sir.
SVB.
Gleeke and Primero; and what you get be true to vs.
DAP.
By this hand, I will.
SVB.
You may bring's a Thousand pound,
Before to morrow night, (if but three Thousand
Be stirring) if you will.
DAP.
I sweare, I will then.
SVB.
Your Fly will learne you all Games.
FAC.
Ha'you done there?
SVB.
Your Grace will command him no more duties?
DOL.
No:
But come, and see me often. I may chance
To leaue him three or foure hundred Chests of Treasure,
And some fiue thousand Acres of Faerie Land:
If he Game well, and comely, with good Gamsters.
SVB.
There's a kinde Aunt! Kisse her departing part.
But you must sell your forty marke a yeare, now.
DAP.
I, Sir, I meane.
SVB.
Or gi't away. A poxe on't.
FAC.
Ile gi't mine Aunt. Ile goe and fetch the writings.
SVB.
'Tis well, away.
FAC.
Where's Subtle?
SVB.
Here. What newes?
FAC.
Drugger is at the dore, goe take his suite,
And bid him fetch a Parson presently.
Say he shall marry the Widdow. Thou shalt spend
A hundred pound by the seruice. Now, Queene Dol,
Ha' you pack'd vp all?
DOL.
Yes.
FAC.
And how doe you like
[Page] The Lady Plyant?
DOL.
A good dull Innocent.
SVB.
Here's your Hieronimo's cloake, and hat.
FAC.
Giue me 'hem.
SVB.
And the Ruffe too?
FAC.
Yes, I'll come to you presently.
SVB.
Now, he is gone about his proiect, Dol,
I told you of, for the Widdow.
DOL.
'Tis direct
Against our Articles.
SVB.
Well, wee'll fit him, Wench.
Hast thou gull'd her of her Iewels, or her Bracelets?
DOL.
No, but I will do't.
SVB.
Soone at night, my D [...]lly,
When we are shipt, and all our goods aboord,
East-ward for Ratcliffe, we will turne our course
To Brainford, Westward, if thou saist the word,
And take our leaues of this ore-weening Raskall,
This peremptory Face.
DOL.
Content. I'am weary of him,
SVB.
Thou'hast cause, when the Slaue will runne a wiuing, Dol,
Against the instrument, that was drawne betweene vs.
DOL.
I'll pluck his Bird as bare as I can.
SVB.
Yes, tell her,
She must by any meanes, addresse some present
To th'Cunning man, make him amends for wronging
His Art with her suspition, send a Ring,
Or chaine of Pearle, she will be tortur'd else
Extreamely in her sleepe, say, and ha' strange things
Come to her, wilt thou?
DOL.
Yes.
SVB.
My fine Flitter-mouse,
My Bird o'the night; wee'll tickle it at the Pigeons,
When we haue all, and may vnlock the Trunks,
And say, this's mine, and thine, and thine, and mine—
FAC.
What now, a billing?
SVB.
Yes, a little exalted
In the good passage of our Stock-affaires.
FAC.
Drugger has brought his Parson, take him in, Subtle,
And send him back againe, to wash his face.
SVB.
I will: and shaue himselfe?
FAC.
If you can get him.
DOL.
You are hote vpon it Face, what ere it is.
FAC.
A trick, that Dol shall spend ten pound a month by.
Is he gone?
SVB.
The Chaplaine waites you i'the hall, Sir.
FAC.
I'll goe bestow him.
DOL.
Hee'll now marry her, instantly.
SVB.
He cannot yet, he is not ready. Deare Dol,
Cosen her of all thou canst. To deceiue him
Is no deceipt, but Iustice; that would breake
[Page] Such an inextricable tye as ours was.
DOL.
Let me alone to fit him.
FAC.
Come my Venturers.
You ha' pack'd vp all? Where be the Trunkes? Bring forth.
SVB.
Here.
FAC.
Let's see 'hem. Where's the Money?
SVB.
Here,
In this.
FAC.
Mammons tenne pound: Eight score before.
The Brethrens mony, this. Druggers and Dappers.
What Paper's that?
DOL.
The Iewell of the waiting Maides,
That stole it from her Lady, to know certaine—
FAC.
If she should haue precedence of her Mistresse?
DOL.
Yes.
FAC.
What boxe is that?
SVB.
The Fish-wiues rings, I thinke.
And th'Alewiues single mony. Is't not Dol?
DOL.
Yes; and the whistle, that the Saylors wife
Brought you, to know, and her Husband were with Ward.
FAC.
Wee'll wet it to morrow: and our Siluer-beakers,
And Tauerne cups. Where be the French Peticoats,
And Girdles, and Hangers?
SVB.
Here, i'the Trunke,
And the Bolts of Lawne.
FAC.
Is Druggers Damaske, there?
And the Tobacco?
SVB.
Yes.
FAC.
Giue me the Keyes.
DOL.
Why you the Keyes?
SVB.
No matter, Dol, because
We shall not open 'hem, before he comes.
FAC.
'Tis true, you shall not open them, indeed,
Nor haue 'hem forth. Doe you see? Not forth, Dol.
DOL.
No?
FAC.
No my Smock-rampant. The right is, my Master
Knowes all, has pardon'd me, and he will keepe 'hem.
Doctor 'tis true (you looke) for all your Figures.
I sent for him, indeed. Wherefore good Partners,
Both He and She, be satisfied. For here
Determines the Indenture tripartite
Twixt Subtle, Dol, and Face. All I can doe
Is to helpe you ouer the wall, o'the backside;
Or lend you a sheet, to saue your Veluet Gowne, Doll.
Here will be Officers presently; bethinke you,
Of some course sodainly to scape the Dock,
For thether you'll come else. Harke you, Thunder.
SVB.
You are a precious fiend!
OFF.
Open the dore.
FAC.
Dol, I am sorry for thee i-faith. But hearst thou?
It shall goe hard, but I will place thee somewhere:
[Page] Thou shalt ha'my Letter to M rs Amo.
DOL.
Hang you—
FAC.
Or Madame Imperiall.
DOL.
Poxe vpon you, Rogue,
Would I had but time to beate thee.
FAC.
Subtle,
Let's know where you set vp next; I'll send you
A Customer, now and then, for old acquaintance:
What new course ha' you?
SVB.
Rogue, I'll hang my selfe
That I may walke a greater diuell, then thou,
And haunt thee i'the Flock-bed, and the Buttery.

ACT. 5. SCENE. 5.

LOVE-Wit. OFFICERS. MAMMON. SVRLY. FACE. KASTRIL. ANANIAS. T [...]IBVLATION. DRVGGER. Da: PLIANT.
VVHat do you meane my Masters?
MAM.
Open your Dore,
Cheaters, Baudes, Coniurers.
OFF.
Or wee'll breake it open.
LOV.
What warrant haue you?
OFF.
Warrant inough, Sir, doubt not,
If you'll not open it.
LOV.
Is there an Officer, there?
OFF.
Yes, two, or three for failing.
LOV.
Haue but patience,
And I will open it straight.
FAC.
Sir, Ha' you done?
Is it a Marriage? perfect?
LOV.
Yes, my Braine?
FAC.
Off with your Ruffe, and Cloake then, be your selfe, Sir.
SVR.
Down with the dore.
KAS.
'Slight, ding it open.
LOV.
Hold.
Hold Gentlemen, what meanes this violence?
MAM.
Where is this Colliar?
SVR.
And my Captaine Face?
MAM.
These day-Owl [...]s.
SVR.
That are Birding in mens purses.
MAM.
Madame Suppository.
KAS.
Doxey, my Suster.
ANA.
Locusts
Of the foule pit
TRI.
Profane as Bel, and the Dragon.
ANA.
Worsethen the Grasse-hoppers, or the Lice of Aegypt.
LOV.
Good Gentlemen, heare me. Are you Officers,
And cannot stay this violence?
OFF.
Keepe the peace.
LOV.
Gentlemen, what is the matter? Whom doe you seeke?
MAM.
The Chymicall Cousoner.
SVR.
And the Captaine Pandar.
KAS.
The Nun my Suster.
MAM.
Madame Rabbi.
ANA.
Scorpions,
And Caterpillers.
LOV.
Fewer at once, I pray you.
OFF.
One after another, Gentlemen, I charge you,
[Page] By vertue of my staffe—
ANA.
They are the vessels
Of shame, and of dishonour.
LOV.
Goodzeale, lye still,
A little while.
TRI.
Peace, Deacon Ananias.
LOV.
The House is mine here, and the dores are open:
If there be any such persons, as you seeke for,
Vse your authoritie, search on o' Gods name.
I am but newly come to towne, and finding
This tumult 'bout my dore(to tell you true)
It somewhat mazd me; till my Man, here, (fearing
My more displeasure) told me had done
Somewhat an insolent part, let out my house
(Belike, presuming on my knowne auersion
From any ayre o'the towne, while there was Sicknesse)
To a Doctor, and a Captaine, who, what they are,
Or where they be, he knowes not.
MAM.
Are they gone?
LOV.
You may goe in, and search, Sir. Here, I finde
The empty Walls, worse then I left'hem, smoak'd,
A few crack'd pots, and Glasses, and a Fornace,
The Seeling fill'd with To [...]sies of the Candle:
And Madame, with a Dildo, writ o'the walles.
Onely one Gentlewoman, I met here,
That is within, that said she was a Widdow—
KAS.
I that's my Suster. I'll goe thumpe her. Where is she?
LOV.
And should ha' married a Spanish Count, buthe,
When he came to't, neglected her so grossely,
That I, a Widdower, am gone through with her.
SVR.
How! Haue I lost her then?
LOV.
Were you the Don, Sir?
Good faith, now, she do's blame yo' extreamely, and sayes
You swore, and told her, you had tane the paines,
To dye your beard, and vmbre o'er your face,
Borrowed a Sute, and Ruffe, all for her Loue;
And then did nothing What an ouer sight,
And want of putting forward, Sir, was this!
Well fare an old Hargubuzier, yet,
Could prime his poulder, and giue fire, and hit,
All in a twinckling.
MAM.
The whole Nest are fledde!
LOV.
What sort of Birds were they?
MAM.
A kinde of Choughes,
[Page] Or theeuish Dawes, Sir, that haue pickt my purse
Of Eight-score, and ten Pounds, within these fiue weekes,
Beside my first Materials; and my Goods,
That lye i'the Cellar: which I am glad, they haue left,
I may haue home yet.
LOV.
Thinke you so Sir?
MAM.
I.
LOV.
By order of Law, Sir, but not otherwise.
MAM.
Not mine owne stuffe?
LOV.
Sir, I can take no knowledge,
That they are yours, but by publique meanes.
If you can bring certificate, that you were gull'd of 'hem,
Or any formall Writ, out of a Court,
That you did cosen your selfe; I will not hold them.
MAM.
I'll rather loose'hem.
LOV.
That you shall not, Sir,
By me, in troth. Vpon these termesthey' are yours.
What should they ha' beene, Sir, turn'd into Gold all?
MAM.
No.
I cannot tell. It may be they should. What then?
LOV.
What a great losse in hope haue [...]ou sustain'd?
MAM.
Not I, the Common wealth has.
FAC.
I, he would ha'built
The Citie new; and made a Ditch about it
Of Siluer, should haue runne with Creame from Hogsden:
That, euery Sunday in More-fields, the Younkers,
And Tits, and Tom-boyes should haue fed on gratis.
MAM.
I will goe mount a Turnep-cart, and preach
The end o'the world within these two months. Surly,
What! in a Dreame?
SVR.
Must I needes cheat my selfe,
With that same foolish vice of Honesty!
Come let vs goe, and hearken out the Rogues.
That Face I'll marke for mine, if ere I meete him.
FAC.
If I can heare of him, Sir, I'll bring you word,
Vnto your lodging: for in troth, they were strangers
To me, I thought 'hem honest, as my selfe, Sir.
TRI.
'Tis well, the Saints shall not loose all yet. Goe,
And get some Carts—
LOV.
For what, my zealous Friends?
ANA.
To beare away the portion of the Righteous,
Out of this denne of Theeues.
LOV.
What is that portion?
ANA.
The goods, sometimes the Orphanes, that the Brethren
Bought with their Siluer pence.
LOV.
What, those i'the Cellar,
The Knight, Sir Mammon claimes?
ANA.
I doe defie
[Page] The wicked Mammon, so doe all the Brethren,
Thou prophane Man. I aske thee, with what conscience
Thou canst aduance that Nemrod, against vs,
That haue the seale? Were not the Shillings numbred,
That made the Pounds? were not the Pounds told out,
Vpon the second day of the fourth weeke,
In the eight month, vpon the table dormant,
The yeare, of the last patience of the Saints,
Sixe hundred and tenne.
LOV.
Mine earnest vehement Botcher,
And Deacon also, I cannot dispute with you,
But, if you get you not away the sooner,
I shall confute you, with a Cudgell.
ANA.
Sir.
TRI.
Be patient Ananias.
ANA.
I am strong,
And will stand vp, well girt, against an Host,
That threaten Gad in exile.
LOV.
I shall send you
To Amstredam, to your Cellar.
ANA.
I will pray there
Against thy House: May Dogges defile thy walles,
And Waspes and Hornets breed beneath thy roofe,
This seat of falsehood, and this caue of cos'nage.
LOV.
Another too?
DRV.
Not I Sir, I am no Brother.
LOV.
Away you Harry Nicholas, doe you talke?
FAC.
No this was Abel Drugger. Good Sir, goe.
And satisfie him; tell him, all is done:
He stay'd too long a washing of his face.
The Doctor, he shall heare of him at Westchester:
And of the Captaine, tell him at Yarmouth, or
Some good Port-towne else, lying for a winde.
If you can get off the Angry Child now, Sir—
KAS.
Come on, you Yew, you haue match'd most sweetly, ha' you not?
Did not I say, I would neuer ha' you tupt
But by a dub'd Boy, to make you a Lady-Tom?
'Slight, you are a Mammet! O, I could touse you, now.
Death, mun' you marry with a poxe?
LOV.
You lye, Boy;
As sound as you: and I am afore-handwith you.
KAS.
Anone?
LOV.
Come, will you quarrell? I will feize you, sirrah.
Why doe you not buckle to your tooles?
KAS.
Gods light!
This is a fine Old Boy, as ere I saw!
LOV.
[Page]
What doe you change your coppy now? Proceede,
Here stands my Doue: stoope at her, if you dare.
KAS.
'Slight I must loue him: I cannot choose i-faith,
And I should be hang'd for't. Suster, I protest
I honour thee, for this match.
LOV.
O doe you so, Sir.
KAS.
Yes, and thou canst take Tobacco, and drinke, Old Boy,
I'll giue her fiue hundred pound more, to her Marriage,
Then her owne State.
LOV.
Fill a pipe-full, Ieremie.
FAC.
Yes, but goe in, and take it, Sir.
LOV.
We will.
I will be rul'd by thee in any thing, Ieremy.
KAS.
'Slight, thou art not Hide-bound, thou art a Iouy Boy!
Come let's in pray thee, and take our W [...]ffes.
LOV.
Whiffe in with your Sister, brother Boy. That Master
That had receiu'd such happinesse by a Seruant,
In such a Widdow, and with so much wealth,
Were very vngratefull, if he would not be
A little indulgent to that Seruants wit,
And help his fortune, though with some small straine
Of his owne candor. Therefore Gentlemen,
And kinde Spectators, if I hau out stript
An old mans grauitie, or strict canon, thinke
What a yong Wife, and a good Brayne may doe:
Stretch Ages truth sometimes, and crack it too.
Speake for thy selfe, Knaue.
FAC.
So I wil Sir. Gentlemen,
My Part a little fell in this last Scene,
Yet 'twas decorum. And though I am cleane
Got off, from Subtle, Surly, Mammon, Dol,
Hot Ananias, Dapper, Drugger, all
With whom I traded; yet I put my selfe
On you, that are my Country: And this Pelfe,
Which I haue got, if you doe quit me, rests
To feast you often, and in [...]ite new ghests.
The end.

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