 | The Alchemist |  |
Scene V.
Love-Wit, Officers, Mammon, Svrly, Face, Kastril, Ananias, Tribvlation, Drvgger, Da. Pliant.
VVhat doe you meane, my masters?
Mam.
Open your dore,
Cheaters, bawds, 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 fayling.
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.
Downe 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-Owles.
Svr.
That are birding in mens purses.
Mam.
Madame Suppository.
Kas.
Doxey, my sister.
Ana.
Locusts
Of the foule pit.
Tri.
Profane as Bel, and the Dragon.
Ana.
Worse then the Grasse-hoppers, or the Lice of Egypt.
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?
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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,
By vertue of my staffe—
Ana.
They are the vessells
Of pride, lust, and the cart.
Lov.
Good zeale, lie 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 maz'd 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 aire o' the towne, while there was sicknesse)
To a Doctor, and a Captaine: who, what they are,
They enter.
Or where they be, he knowes not.
Mam.
Are they gone?
Lov.
You may goe in, and search, sir. Here, I find
The emptie walls, worse then I left 'hem, smok'd,
A few crack'd pots, and glasses, and a fornace,
The seeling fill'd with poesies of the candle:
And Madame, with a Dildo, writ o'the walls.
Onely, one gentlewoman, I met here,
That is within, that said shee was a widdow—
Kas.
I, that's my suster. I'll goe thumpe her. Where is shee?
Lov.
And should ha' marryed a Spanish Count, but he,
When he came to't, neglected her so grosly,
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, shee do's blame yo' extremely, 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 fled!
Mammon comes forth.
Lov.
What sort of birds were they?
Mam.
A kind of Choughes,
Or theeuish Dawes, sir, that haue pickt my purse
Of eight-score, and ten pounds, within these fiue weekes,
Beside my first materialls; and my goods,
That lye i' the cellar: which I am glad they ha' left.
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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 termes they' 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 you 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. Svrly,
What! in a dreame?
Svr.
Must I needs cheat my selfe,
With that same foolish vice of honestie!
Come let vs goe, and harken out the rogues.
That Face I'll marke for mine, if ere I meet 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,
They come forth.
And get some carts—
Lov.
For what, my zealous friends?
Ana.
To beare away the portion of the righteous,
Out of this den 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
The wicked Mammon, so doe all the Brethren,
Thou prophane man. I aske thee, with what conscience
Thou canst aduance that Idol, 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 yeere, of the last patience of the Saints,
Sixe hundred and ten.
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.
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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 Amsterdam, to your cellar.
Ana.
I will pray there,
Against thy house: may dogs defile thy walls,
And waspes, and hornets breed beneath thy roofe,
This seat of false-hood, and this caue of cos'nage.
Lov.
Another too?
Drv.
Not I sir, I am no Brother.
Drugger enters, and he beats him away.
Lov.
Away you Harry Nicholas, doe you talke?
To the Parson.
Fac.
No, this was Abel Drvgger. 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 Captayne, tell him at Yarmouth: or
Some good port-towne else, lying for a winde.
If you get off the angrie Child, now, sir—
To his sister.
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 lie, Boy;
As sound as you: and I am afore-hand with 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.
What, doe you change your copy, now? Proceed,
Here stands my doue: stoupe 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 honor thee, for this match.
Lov.
O, doe you so, sir?
Kas.
Yes, and thou canst take tabacco, 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, Ieremie.
Kas.
'Slight, thou art not hide-bound! thou art a Iouy 'Boy!
Come let's in, I pray thee, and take our whiffes.
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 helpe his fortune, though with some small straine
Of his owne candor. Therefore, gentlemen,
And kind Spectators, if I haue out-stript
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What a yong wife, and a good braine may doe:
Stretch ages truth sometimes, and crack it too.
Speake for thy selfe, knaue.
Fac.
So I will, sir. Gentlemen,
My part a little fell in this last Scene,
Yet 'twas decorum. And though I am cleane
Got off, from Svbtle, Svrly, Mammon, Dol,
Hot Ananias, Dapper, Drvgger, all
With whom I traded; yet I put my selfe
On you, that are my countrey: and this pelfe,
Which I haue got, if you doe quit me, rests
To feast you often, and inuite new ghests.
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