 | The Alchemist |  |
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—
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