 | The Alchemist |  |
Act I.
Scene I.
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.
Sirrah, I'll strip you—
Svb.
What to doe? lick figs
Out at my—
Fac.
Rogue, rogue, out of all your sleights.
Dol.
Nay, looke yee! Soueraigne, Generall, are you mad-men?
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?
Harke, I heare somebody.
Fac.
Sirrah—
Svb.
I shall marre
All that the taylor has made, if you approch.
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, liuery-three-pound-thrum; that kept
Your masters worships house, here, in the friers,
For the vacations—
Fac.
Will you be so lowd?
Svb.
Since, by my meanes, translated suburb-Captayne.
Fac.
By your meanes, Doctor dog?
Svb.
Within mans memorie,
All this, I speake of.
Fac.
Why, I pray you, haue I
Beene countenanc'd by you? or you, by me?
Doe but collect, sir, where I met you first.
Svb.
I doe not heare well.
Fac.
Not of this, I thinke it.
607
Taking your meale of steeme in, from cookes stalls,
Where, like the father of hunger, you did walke
Piteously costiue, with your pinch'd-horne-nose,
And your complexion, of the romane wash,
Stuck full of black, and melancholique wormes,
Like poulder-cornes, shot, at th'artillerie-yard.
Svb.
I wish, you could aduance your voice, a little.
Fac.
When you went pinn'd vp, in the seuerall rags,
Yo'had rak'd, and pick'd from dung-hills, before day,
Your feet in mouldie slippers, for your kibes,
A felt of rugg, and a thin thredden cloake,
That scarce would couer your no-buttocks—
Svb.
So, sir!
Fac.
When all your alchemy, 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 stills, your glasses, your materialls,
Built you a fornace, drew you customers,
Aduanc'd all your black arts; lent you, beside,
A house to practise in—
Svb.
Your masters house?
Fac.
Where you haue studied the more thriuing skill
Of bawdrie, since.
Svb.
Yes, in your masters house.
You, and the rats, here, kept possession.
Make it not strange. I know, yo' were one, could keepe
The buttry-hatch still lock'd, and saue the chippings,
Sell the dole-beere to aquæ-vitæ-men,
The which, together with your christ-masse vailes,
At post and paire, your letting out of counters,
Made you a pretty stock, some twentie markes,
And gaue you credit, to conuerse with cob-webs,
Here, since your mistris 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 furie' againe
That carries tempest in his hand, and voice.
Fac.
The place has made you valiant.
Svb.
No, your clothes.
Thou vermine, haue I tane thee, out of dung,
So poore, so wretched, when no liuing thing
Would keepe thee companie, but a spider, or worse?
Rais'd thee from broomes, and dust, and watring pots?
Sublim'd thee, and exalted thee, and fix'd thee
I'the third region, call'd our state of grace?
608
Would twise haue won me the philosophers worke?
Put thee in words, and fashion? made thee fit
For more then ordinarie fellowships?
Giu'n thee thy othes, thy quarrelling dimensions?
Thy rules, to cheat 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 flie 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 vn-doe your selues, with ciuill warre?
Svb.
Neuer beene knowne, past equi clibanum,
The heat of horse-dung, vnder ground, in cellars,
Or an ale-house, darker then deafe Iohn's: beene lost
To all mankind, but laundresses, and tapsters,
Had not I beene.
Dol.
Do'you know who heares you, Soueraigne?
Fac.
Sirrah—
Dol.
Nay, Generall, I thought you were ciuill—
Fac.
I shall turne desperate, if you grow thus lowd.
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.
(O, this'll ore-throw all.)
Fac.
Write thee vp bawd, in Paules; haue all thy tricks
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 shaddowes, with a glasse,
Told in red letters: And a face, cut for thee,
Worse then Gamaliel Ratsey's.
Dol.
Are you sound?
Ha' you your senses, masters?
Fac.
I will haue
A booke, but barely reckoning thy impostures,
Shall proue a true philosophers 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. (Witch.
Dol.
O me!
Fac.
Bawd.
Svb.
Cow-herd.
Fac.
Coniurer.
Svb.
Cut-purse.
Fac.
We are ruin'd! lost! Ha'you no more regard
To your reputations? Where's your iudgement? S'light,
Haue yet, some care of me, o' your republique—
Fac.
Away this brach. I'll bring thee, rogue, within
The statue of sorcerie, tricesimo tertio.
Of Harry the eight: I, and (perhaps) thy necke
Within a nooze, for laundring gold, and barbing it.
609
You'll bring your head within a cocks-combe, will you?
Shee catcheth out Face his sword: and breakes Subtles glasse.
And you, sir, with your menstrue, gather it vp.
S'death, you abominable paire of stinkards,
Leaue off your barking, and grow one againe,
Or, by the light that shines, I'll cut your throats.
I'll not be made a prey vnto the marshall,
For ne're 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 cosen your selues?
You will accuse him? You will bring him in
Within the statute? Who shall take your word?
A whore-sonne, vpstart, apocryphall captayne,
Whom not a puritane, in black-friers, will trust
So much, as for a feather! And you, too,
Will giue the cause, forsooth? You will insult,
And claime a primacie, in the diuisions?
You must be chiefe? as if you, onely, had
The poulder to proiect with? and the worke
Were not begun out of equalitie?
The venter tripartite? All things in common?
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 lyes vpon him.
Svb.
Why, so it do's.
Dol.
How does it? Doe not we
Sustaine our parts?
Svb.
Yes, but they are not equall.
Dol.
Why, if your part exceed to day, I hope
Ours may, to morrow, match it.
Svb.
I, they may.
Dol.
May, murmuring mastiffe? I, and doe. Death on me!
Helpe me to thrattell him.
Svb.
Dorothee, mistris Dorothee,
O'ds precious, I'll doe anything. What doe you meane?
Dol.
Because o'your fermentation, and cibation?
Svb.
Not I, by heauen—
Dol.
Your Sol, and Luna—helpe me.
Svb.
Would I were hang'd then. I'll conforme my selfe.
Dol.
Will you, sir, doe so then, and quickly: sweare.
Svb.
What should I sweare?
Dol.
To leaue your faction, sir.
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 no spurres, sir. Doe we?
610
'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, sciruy, precise 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 stayn'd scarfes,
(My noble Soueraigne, and worthy Generall)
Ere we contribute a new crewell 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 Dol Common, but Dol 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 trouble vs, this quarter.
Fac.
O, feare not him. While there dyes one, a weeke,
O'the plague, hee's safe, from thinking toward London.
Beside, hee's busie at his hop-yards, 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 clarke, I lighted on, last night,
In Holbourne, at the dagger. He would haue
(I told you of him) a familiar,
To rifle with, at horses, and winne cups.
Dol.
O, let him in.
Svb.
Stay. Who shall doo't?
Fac.
Get you
Your robes on. I will meet him, as going out.
Dol.
And what shall I doe?
Fac.
Not be seene, away.
Seeme you very reseru'd.
Svb.
Inough.
Fac.
God b'w'you, sir.
I pray you, let him know that I was here.
His name is Dapper. I would gladly haue staid, but—
611
Scene II.
Dapper, Face, Svbtle.
Captaine, I am here.
Fac.
Who's that? He's come, I think, Doctor.
Good faith, sir, I was going away.
Dap.
In truth,
I'am very sorry, Captaine.
Fac.
But I thought
Sure, I should meet you.
Dap.
I, I'am very glad.
I'had a sciruy writ, or two, to make,
And I had lent my watch last night, to one
That dines, to day, at the shrieffs: and so was rob'd
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, Captain?
Fac.
I.
Dap.
And how?
Fac.
Faith, he do's make the matter, sir, so daintie,
I know not what to say—
Dap.
Not so, good Captaine.
Fac.
Would I were fairely rid on't, beleeue me.
Dap.
Nay, now you grieue me, sir. Why should you wish so?
I dare assure you. I'll not be vngratefull.
Fac.
I cannot thinke you will, sir. But the law
Is such a thing—And then, he sayes, Reade's matter
Falling so lately—
Dap.
Reade? He was an asse,
And dealt, sir, with a foole.
Fac.
It was a clarke, sir.
Dap.
A clarke?
Fac.
Nay, heare me, sir, you know the law
Better, I thinke—
Dap.
I should, sir, and the danger.
You know I shew'd the statute to you?
Fac.
You did so.
Dap.
And will I tell, then? By this hand, of flesh,
Would it might neuer wright good court-hand, more,
If I discouer. What doe you thinke of me,
That I am a Chiause?
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, sir, 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, sir, moue you.
Svb.
Pray you, forbeare—
Fac.
He has
Foure angels, here—
Svb.
You doe me wrong, good sir.
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,
612
Fac.
I draw you? A horse draw you, and a halter,
You, and your flies together—
Dap.
Nay, good Captayne.
Fac.
That know no difference of men.
Svb.
Good wordes, sir.
Fac.
Good deeds, sir, Doctor dogs-meate. 'Slight I bring you
No cheating Clim-o' the-Clovghs, or Claribels,
That looke as bigge as fiue-and-fiftie, 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 fortie markes, a yeere,
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 faire hands,
Is a fine clarke, and has his cyphring perfect,
Will take his oath, o'the greeke Xenophon,
If need be, in his pocket: and can court
His mistris, out of Ovid.
Dap.
Nay, deare Captayne.
Fac.
Did you not tell me, so?
Dap.
Yes, but I'ld ha'you
Vse master Doctor, with some more respect.
Fac.
Hang him proud stagge, 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 businesse.
Dap.
Nay, good sir. He did call you.
Fac.
Will he take, then?
Svb.
First, heare me—
Fac.
Not a syllable, 'lesse you take.
Svb.
Pray ye', sir—
Fac.
Vpon no termes, but an assumpsit.
Svb.
Your humor must be law.
Fac.
Why now, sir, talke.
He takes the money.
Now, I dare heare you with mine honour. Speake.
So may this gentleman too.
Svb.
Why, sir—
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 vn-doe you all:
Hee'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 cups, and horses,
A rifling she: none o'your great familiars.
Dap.
Yes, Captayne, I would haue it, for all games.
613
I told you so.
Fac.
'Slight, that's a new businesse!
I vnderstood you, a tame bird, to flie
Twise in a terme, or so; on friday-nights,
When you had left the office: for a nagge,
Of fortie, or fiftie shillings.
Dap.
I, 'tis true, sir,
But I doe thinke, now, I shall leaue the law,
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.
Why, then, sir,
I'll trie. Say, that it were for all games, Doctor?
Svb.
I say, then, not a mouth shall eate for him
At any ordinarie, but o'the score,
That is a gaming mouth, conceiue me.
Fac.
Indeed!
Svb.
Hee'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 Fairy loues.
Fac.
What! is he!
Svb.
Peace.
Hee'll ouer-heare you. Sir, should shee but see him—
Fac.
What?
Svb.
Do not you tell him.
Fac.
Will he win at cards too?
Svb.
The spirits of dead Holland, liuing Isaac,
You'ld sweare, were in him: such a vigorous luck
As cannot be resisted. 'Slight hee'll put
Sixe o'your gallants, to a cloke, indeed.
Fac.
A strange successe, that some man shall be borne too!
Svb.
He 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.
Why, as you please, my venture followes yours.
Fac.
Troth, doe it, Doctor. Thinke him trustie, and make him.
He may make vs both happy in an houre:
Win 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.
Face takes him aside.
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, Captaine, yo'll tell all, now.
Fac.
Allyed 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 saies so?
Fac.
Come.
You know it well inough, though you dissemble it.
Dap.
I-fac, I doe not. You are mistaken.
Fac.
How!
614
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,
You'll send vs shares in't, by this rate?
Dap.
By Iove, sir,
I'll winne ten thousand pound, and send you halfe.
I-fac's no oath.
Svb.
No, no, he did but iest.
Fac.
Goe too. Goe, thanke the Doctor. He's your friend
To take it so.
Dap.
I thanke his worship.
Fac.
So?
Another angell.
Dap.
Must I?
Fac.
Must you? Slight,
What else is thankes? will you be triuiall? Doctor,
When 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.
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.
Well, 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.
One knocks without.
Dap.
Captain, I'll see her Grace.
Fac.
Inough.
Svb.
Who's there?
Anone. (Conduct him forth, by the backe 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 either 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 linne.
615
Scene III.
Svbtle, Drvgger, Face.
Come in (Good wiues, I pray you forbeare me, now.
Troth I can doe you no good, till after-noone)
What is your name, say you, Abel Drvgger?
Drv.
Yes, sir.
Svb.
A seller of tabacco?
Drv.
Yes, sir.
Svb.
'Vmh.
Free of the Grocers?
Drv.
I, and't please you.
Svb.
Well—
Your businesse, 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 necromancie.
And, where my shelues. And, which should be for boxes.
And, which for pots. 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.
What! my honest Abel?
Thou art well met, here!
Drv.
Troth, sir, I was speaking,
Iust, as your worship came here, of your worship.
I pray you, speake for me to master Doctor.
Fac.
He shall doe any thing. Doctor, doe you heare?
This is my friend, Abel, an honest fellow,
He lets me haue good tabacco, 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 clouts:
But keeps 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 gold-smith.
Svb.
H'is a fortunate fellow, that I am sure on—
Fac.
Alreadie, 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 companie:
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 haire come.
But hee'll be wise, preserue his youth, and sine for't:
His fortune lookes for him, another way.
616
'Slid, Doctor, how canst thou know this so soone?
I'am amus'd, at that!
Svb.
By a rule, Captaine,
In metaposcopie, which I doe worke by,
A certaine starre i'the fore-head, which you see not.
Your chest-nut, or your oliue-colour'd face
Do's neuer faile: and your long eare doth promise.
I knew't, by certaine spots too, in his teeth,
And on the naile 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 Venvs;
The fore-finger to Iove; the midst, to Satvrne;
The ring to Sol; the least, to Mercvrie:
Who was the lord, sir, of his horoscope,
His house of life being Libra, which fore-shew'd,
He should be a merchant, and should trade with ballance.
Fac.
Why, this is strange! Is't not, honest Nab?
Svb.
There is a ship now, comming from Ormus,
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 Mathlai, Tarmiel, and Baraborat;
Vpon the north-part, Rael, Velel, Thiel.
They are the names of those Mercurial spirits,
That doe fright flyes from boxes.
Drv.
Yes, sir.
Svb.
And
Beneath your threshold, bury me a load-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 city-dames.
You shall deale much, with mineralls.
Drv.
Sir, I haue,
At home, alreadie—
Svb.
I, I know, you'haue arsnike,
Vitriol, sal-tartre, argaile, alkaly,
Cinoper: I know all. This fellow, Captaine,
Will come, in time, to be a great distiller,
And giue a say (I will not say directly,
But very faire) at the philosophers stone.
Fac.
Why, how now, Abel! Is this true?
Drv.
Good Captaine,
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! 'nd toward such a fortune? Hart,
Thou shalt rather gi'him thy shop. No gold about thee?
617
Yes, I haue a portague, I ha' kept this halfe yeere.
Fac.
Out on thee, Nab; S'light, 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 fauour 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 after-noone.
Svb.
And a direction for his shelues.
Fac.
Now, Nab?
Art thou well pleas'd, Nab?
Drv.
Thanke, sir, both your worships.
Fac.
Away.
Why, now, you smoky persecuter of nature!
Now, doe you see, that some-thing'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 expence,
In searching out these veines, 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?
Scene IIII.
Face, Dol, Svbtle.
VVhat say's, my daintie Dolkin?
Dol.
Yonder fish-wife
Will not away. And there's your giantesse,
The bawd 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 Epicvre Mammon—
Svb.
Where?
Dol.
Comming along, at far end of the lane,
Slow of his feet, but earnest of his tongue,
To one, that's with him.
Svb.
Face, goe you, and shift,
Dol, you must presently make readie, too—
Dol.
Why, what's the matter?
Svb.
O, I did looke for him
With the sunnes rising: 'Maruaile, 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.
And, now, hee's dealing peeces on't, away.
618
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 bawdes 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-kind, euer could.
If his dreame last, hee'll turne the age, to gold.
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