 | The Alchemist |  |
Scene III.
Svbtle, Face, Dol.
How now? Good prise?
Fac.
Good poxe! Yond' caustiue cheater
Neuer came on.
Svb.
How then?
Fac.
I ha' walk'd 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 graines?
I know him of old.
Svb.
O, but to ha' gull'd him,
Had beene a maistry.
Fac.
Let him goe, black Boy,
And turne thee, that some fresh newes may possesse thee.
641
Delicious compeere, and my partie-bawd)
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 pieces 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?
Shee must prepare perfumes, delicate linnen,
The bath in chiefe, a banquet, and her wit,
For shee must milke 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 marks, Boy.
Fac.
Why, this's a lucky day! Ten pounds of Mammon!
Three o' my clarke! A portague o' my grocer!
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 fortie—
Dol.
What?
Fac.
Pounds, daintie Dorothee, art thou so neere?
Dol.
Yes, say lord Generall, how fares our 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
Daily, by their small parties. This deare houre,
A doughtie Don is taken, with my Dol;
And thou maist make his ransome, what thou wilt,
My Dousabell: He shall be brought here, fetter'd
With thy faire 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 sheets,
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 Drvgger?
Dol.
Neither.
Fac.
A poxe on 'hem,
They are so long a furnishing! Such stinkards
Would not be seene, vpon these festiuall dayes.
642
Svb.
Done. They are gone. The summe
Is here in banque, my Face. I would, we knew
Another chapman, now, would buy 'hem out-right.
Fac.
'Slid, Nab shall doo't, against he ha'the widdow,
To furnish houshold.
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,
As I was coniuring, yonder, in my circle
For Svrly: I ha'my flies abroad. Your bath
Is famous Svbtle, by my meanes. Sweet Dol,
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
Verdvgo-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 coach-man, whom I haue sent, as guide,
No creature else. Who's that?
Svb.
It i'not he?
One knocks.
Fac.
O no, not yet this houre.
Svb.
Who is't?
Dol.
Dapper,
Your Clarke.
Fac.
Gods will, then, Queene of Faerie,
On with your tyre; and, Doctor, with your robes.
Lett's dispatch him, for gods sake.
Svb.
'Twill be long.
Fac.
I warrant you, take but the cues I giue you,
It shall be briefe inough. 'Slight, here are more!
Abel, and I thinke, the angrie boy, the heire,
That faine would quarrell.
Svb.
And the widdow?
Fac.
No,
Not that I see. Away. O sir, you are welcome.
| The Alchemist | |