University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

Face
, Mammon, Dol.
O, sir, yo'are come i' the onely, finest time—

Mam.
Where's master?

Fac.
Now preparing for proiection, sir.
Your stuffe will b'all chang'd shortly.

Mam.
Into gold?

Fac.
To gold, and siluer, sir.

Mam.
Siluer, I care not for.

Fac.
Yes, sir, a little to giue beggars.

Mam.
Where's the lady?

Fac.
At hand, here. I ha' told her such braue things, o'you,
Touching your bountie and your noble spirit—

Mam.
Hast thou?

Fac.
As shee is almost in her fit to see you.
But, good sir, no diuinitie i' your conference,
For feare of putting her in rage—

Mam.
I warrant thee.

Fac.
Sixe men will not hold her downe. And, then
If the old man should heare, or see you—

Mam.
Feare not.

Fac.
The very house, sir, would runne mad. You know it
How scrupulous he is and violent,
'Gainst the least act of sinne. Physick, or Mathematiques,
Poetrie, State, or Bawdry (as I told you)
Shee will endure, and neuer startle: But
No word of controuersie.

Mam.
I am school'd, good Ulen.

Fac.
And you must praise her house, remember that,
And her nobilitie.

Mam.
Let me, alone:
No Herald, no nor Antiquarie, Lungs,
Shall doe it better. Goe.

Fac.
Why, this is yet
A kind of moderne happinesse, to haue
Dol Common for a great lady.

Mam.
Now, Epicvre,
Heighten thy selfe, talke to her, all in gold;
Raine her as many showers, as Iove did drops
Vnto his Danae: Shew the God a miser,
Compar'd with Mammon. What? the stone will do't.
Shee shall feele gold, tast gold, heare gold, sleepe gold:
Nay, we will concumbere gold. I will be puissant,
And mightie in my talke to her! Here shee comes.

Fac.
To him, Dol, suckle him. This is the noble knight,
I told your ladiship—

Mam.
Madame, with your pardon,
I kisse your vesture.

Dol.
Sir, I were vn-ciuill
If I would suffer that, my lip to you, sir.

Mam.
I hope, my lord your brother be in health, lady?

Dol.
My lord, my brother is, though I no ladie, sir.

Fac.
(Well said my Guiny-bird.)

Mam.
Right noble madame—

Fac.
(O, we shall haue most fierce idolatrie!)

Mam.
'Tis your prerogatiue.

Dol.
Rather your courtesie.

Mam.
Were there nought else t'inlarge your vertues, to me,
These answeres speake your breeding, and your bloud.

Dol.
Bloud we boast none, sir, a poore Baron's daughter.

Mam.
Poore! and gat you? Prophane not. Had your father
Slept all the happy remnant of his life
After that act, lyen but there still, and panted,
H'had done inough, to make himselfe, his issue,
And his posteritie noble.

Dol.
Sir, although
We may be said to want the guilt, and trappings,
The dresse of honor; yet we striue to keepe
The seedes, and the materialls.

Mam.
I doe see
The old ingredient, vertue, was not lost,
Nor the drug money, vs'd to make your compound.
There is a strange nobilitie, i'your eye,
This lip, that chin! Me thinks you doe resemble
One o'the Austriack princes.

Fac.
Very like,
Her father was an Irish costar-monger.

Mam.
The house of Valois, iust, had such a nose.
And such a fore-head, yet, the Medici
Of Florence boast.

Dol.
Troth, and I haue beene lik'ned
To all these Princes.

Fac.
I'll be sworne, I heard it.

Mam.
I know not how! it is not any one,
But ee'n the very choise of all their features.

Fac.
I'll in, and laugh.

Mam.
A certaine touch, or aire,
That sparkles a diuinitie, beyond
An earthly beautie!

Dol.
O, you play the courtier.

Mam.
Good lady, gi'me leaue—

Dol.
In faith, I may not,
To mock me, sir.

Mam.
To burne i'this sweet flame:
The Phœnix neuer knew a nobler death.

Dol.
Nay, now you court the courtier: and destroy
What you would build. This art, sir, i'your words,
Calls your whole faith in question.

Mam.
By my soule—

Dol.
Nay, oathes are made o'the same aire, sir.

Mam.
Nature
Neuer bestow'd vpon mortalitie,
A more vnblam'd, a more harmonious feature:
Shee play'd the step-dame in all faces, else.
Sweet madame, le'me be particular—

Dol.
Particular, sir? I pray you, know your distance.

Mam.
In no ill sense, sweet lady, but to aske
How your faire graces passe the houres? I see
Yo'are lodg'd, here, i'the house of a rare man,
An excellent Artist: but, what's that to you?

Dol.
Yes, sir. I studie here the mathematiques,
And distillation.

Mam.
O, I crie your pardon.
H'is a diuine instructer! can extract
The soules of all things, by his art; call all
The vertues, and the miracles of the Sunne,
Into a temperate fornace: teach dull nature
What her owne forces are. A man, the Emp'rour
Has courted, aboue Kelley: sent his medalls,
And chaines, t'inuite him.

Dol.
I, and for his physick, sir—

Mam.
Aboue the art Æscvlapivs,
That drew the enuy of the Thunderer!
I know all this, and more.

Dol.
Troth, I am taken, sir,
Whole, with these studies, that contemplate nature:

Mam.
It is a noble humour. But, this forme
Was not intended to so darke a vse!
Had you beene crooked, foule, of some course mould,
A cloyster had done well: but, such a feature
That might stand vp the glorie of a kingdome,
To liue recluse! is a mere solæcisme,
Though in a nunnery. It must not be.
I muse, my lord your brother will permit it!
You should spend halfe my land first, were I hee.
Do's not this diamant better, on my finger,
Then i' the quarrie?

Dol.
Yes.

Mam.
Why, you are like it.
You were created, lady, for the light!
Heare, you shall weare it; take it, the first pledge
Of what I speake: to binde you, to beleeue me.

Dol.
In chaines of adamant?

Mam.
Yes, the strongest bands.
And take a secret, too. Here, by your side,
Doth stand, this houre, the happiest man, in Europe.

Dol.
You are contented, sir?

Mam.
Nay, in true being:
The enuy of Princes, and the feare of States.

Dol.
Say you so, sir Epicvre!

Mam.
Yes, & thou shalt proue it,
Daughter of honor. I haue cast mine eye
Vpon thy forme, and I will reare this beautie,
Aboue all stiles.

Dol.
You meane no treason, sir!

Mam.
No, I will take away that iealousie.
I am the lord of the Philosophers stone,
And thou the lady.

Dol.
How sir! ha' you that?

Mam.
I am the master of the maistrie.
This day, the good old wretch, here, o' the house
Has made it for vs. Now, hee's at proiection.
Thinke therefore, thy first wish, now; let me heare it:
And it shall raine into thy lap, no shower,
But flouds of gold, whole cataracts, a deluge,
To get a nation on thee!

Dol.
You are pleas'd, sir,
To worke on the ambition of our sexe.

Mam.
I'am pleas'd, the glorie of her sexe should know,
This nooke, here, of the Friers, is no climate
For her, to liue obscurely in, to learne
Physick, and surgery, for the Constables wife
Of some odde Hundred in Essex; but come forth,
And tast the aire of palaces; eate, drinke
The toyles of Emp'ricks, and their boasted practice;
Tincture of pearle, and corrall, gold, and amber;
Be seene at feasts, and triumphs; haue it ask'd,
What miracle shee is? set all the eyes
Of court a-fire, like a burning glasse,
And worke 'hem into cinders; when the iewells
Of twentie states adorne thee; and the light
Strikes out the starres; that, when thy name is mention'd,
Queenes may looke pale: and, we but shewing our loue,
Nero's Poppæa may be lost in storie!
Thus, will we haue it.

Dol.
I could well consent, sir.
But, in a monarchy, how will this be?
The Prince will soone take notice; and both seize
You, and your stone: it being a wealth vnfit
For any priuate subiect.

Mam.
If he knew it.

Dol.
Your selfe doe boast it, sir.

Mam.
To thee, my life.

Dol.
O, but beware, sir! You may come to end
The remnant of your daies, in a loth'd prison,
By speaking of it.

Mam.
'Tis no idle feare!
Wee'll therefore goe with all, my girle, and liue
In a free state; where we will eate our mullets,
Sous'd in high-countrey wines, sup phesants egges,
And haue our cockles, boild in siluer shells,
Our shrimps to swim againe, as when they liu'd,
In a rare butter made of dolphins milke,
Whose creame do's looke like opalls: and, with these
Delicate meats, set our selues high for pleasure,
And take vs downe againe, and then renew
Our youth, and strength, with drinking the elixir,
And so enioy a perpetuitie
Of life, and lust. And, thou shalt ha' thy wardrobe,
Richer then Natures, still, to change thy selfe,
And vary oftner, for thy pride, then shee:
Or Art, her wise, and almost-equall seruant.

Fac.
Sir, you are too loud. I heare you, euery word,
Into the labaratory. Some fitter place.
The garden, or great chamber aboue. How like you her?

Mam.
Excellent! Lungs. There's for thee.

Fac.
But, doe you heare?
Good sir, beware, no mention of the Rabbines.

Mam.
We thinke not on 'hem.

Fac.
O, it is well, sir. Svbtle!