University of Virginia Library

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.

Fac.
'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?

Drv.
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?