University of Virginia Library

Act. 1.

Scen. 1.

Enter Albumazar, Harpax, Ronca.
Albumazar.
Come brave Mercurials sublim'd in cheating.
My deare companions, fellow-souldiers
I'th watchfull exercise of Theevery:
Shame not at your so large profession,
No more then? at deep Astrologie.
For in the dayes of old, Good morrow Thiefe,
As welcome was receiv'd, as now Your Worship.
The Spartans held it lawfull, and the Arabians,
So grew Arabia, Fœlix, Sparta valiant.

Ronc.
Read on this Lecture, wise Albumazar.

Alb.
Your Patron Mercury in his mysterious character,
Holds all the makes of the other wanderers,
And with his subtill influence works in all,
Filling their stories full of Robberies.
Most Trades and Callings much participate
Of yours; though smoothly gilt with th'honest title
Of Merchant, Lawyer, or such like: the learned
Onely excepted; and he's therefore poore.

Harp.
And yet he steals one Author from another.
This Poet is that Poets Plagiary,
And he a third's, till they end all in Homer.

Albu.
And Homer filtch't all from an Egyptian Priestesse.
The worlds a Theater of theft. Great Rivers
Rob smaller Brooks; and them the Ocean.
And in this world of ours, this Microcosme,
Guts from the stomack steale, and what they spare,
The meseraicks filch, and lay't i'the liver:
Where (least it should be found) turn'd to red Nectar,
Tis by a thousand theevish veins conveyde
And hid in flesh, nerves bones, muscles, and sinews,
In tendons, skin, and haire, so that the property
Thus altered, the theft can never be discovered.
Now all these pilfries couch't and compos'd in order,
Frame thee and me. Man's a quick masse of theevery.

Ronc.
Most Philosophicall Albumazar!

Harp.
I thought these parts had lent and borrowed mutuall.

Albu.
Say they do so: tis done with full intention
Nere to restore, and that's flat robbery.
Therefore go on, follow your vertues Lawes
Your cardnall vertue, great necessity,
Wait on her close, with all occasions.
Be watchfull, have as many eyes as Heaven,
And eares as Harvest: be resolv'd and impudent,
Beleeve none, trust none: for in this City
(As in a fought field Crowes and Carkasses)
No dwellers are but Cheaters and Cheateez.

Ronc.
If all the houses in the town were prisons,
The chambers cages, all the settles stocks,
The broad-gates gallowses, and the whole people
Justices, Juries, Constables, Keepers, and Hangmen,
Ide practise spite of all, and leave behinde me
A fruitfull Seminary of our profession,
And call them by the name Albumazarians.

Harp.
And I no lesse, were all the City theeves
As cunning as thy selfe.

Albu.
Why bravely spoken,
Fitting such generous spirits: Ile make way
To your great vertue with a deep resemblance
Of high Astrologie. Harpax and Ronca.
List to our profit: I have new lodg'd a prey
Hard by, that taken is so fat and rich
Twill make us leave off trading, and fall to purchase.

Harp.
Who is't? speak quickly.

Ron.
Where good Albumazar?

Alb.
Tis a rich Gentleman, as old as foolish.
The poore remnant of whose brain that age had left him
The doting love of a young Girle hath dried:
And which concerns us most, he gives firme credit
To Necromancie and Astrologie.
Enter Furbo.
Sending to me, as one that promise both.
Pandolfo is the man.

Har.
What old Pandolfo?

Alb.
The same: but stay, yon's Furbo whose smoothest brow
Shines with good news, and's visage promises
Triumphs and Trophies to's

Furbo playes.
Ron.
My life ha's learnt out all, I know't by's musick.

Then Furbo sings this Song.
Furb.
Albumazar.
Spread out thy nets at large, here's fowle abundance:
Pandolfo's ours, I understand his businesse
Which I filcht closely from him, while he reveal'd
This man, his purposes and projects.

Alb.
Excellent!
Thanks to this instrument: for in pretence
Of teaching yong Sulptia, th'old mans daughter,
I got accesse to th'house, and while I waited
Till she was ready, over-heard Pandolfo
Open his secrets to his servant: thus tis,
Antonio, Pandolfoes friend, and neighbour,
Before he went to Barbary, agreed
To give in marriage.

Alb.
Furbo, this no place
Fit to consider curious points of businesse,
Come let's away, Ile hear't at large above.
Ronca, stay you below, and entertain him
With a loud noise of my deep skill in Art,
Thou know'st my Rosie modesty cannot do it.
Harpax up you, and from my bed-chamber,
Where all things for our purposes are ready,
Second each beck, and nod, and word of ours.
You know my meaning.

Har.
Yes, yes.

Fur.
Yes, sir.
Furbo goes out singing,

SCEN. 2.

Ronca, Pandolfo, Cricca.
Ron.
There's old Pandolfo, amorous as youthfull May,
And gray as January. Ile attend him here.

Pan.
Cricca, I seek thy aid, not thy crosse counsell,
I am mad in love with Flavia, and must have her:
Thou spend'st thy reasons to the contrary,
Like arrows 'gainst an Anvile: I love Flavia,
And must have Flavia.

Cric.
Sir, you have no reason,
Shee's a young girle of sixteen, you of sixty.

Pan.
I have no reason, nor spare room for any,
Loves Herbinger hath chalk't upon my heart,
And with a coale writ on my brain, for Flavia;
This house is wholy taken up for Flavia.
Let reason get a lodging with her wit:
Vex me no more, I must have Flavia.

Cric.
But sir, her brother Lelio, under whose charge
Shee's now after her fathers death, sware boldly
Pandolfo never shall have Flavia.

Pan.
His father, ere he went to Barbary,
Promis'd her me: who be he live or dead,
Spight of a Last of Lelioes Pandolfo
Shall enjoy Flavia.

Cric.
Sir, y'are too old.

Pan.
I must confesse in yeares about threescore,
But in tuffe strength of body, foure and twenty,
Or two months lesse. Love of young Flavia,
More powerfull then Medea's drugs, renews
All decay'd parts of man: my Arteries
Blown full with youthfull spirits, move the bloud
To a new businesse: my withered Nerves grow plumpe
And strong, longing for action. Hence thou poore prop
Of feeblenesse and age: walke with such sires
As with cold Palfies shake away their strength.
And loose their legs with curelesse gouts. Pandolfo
New moulded is for Revels, Masks, and Musick. Cricca
String my neglected Lute, and from my Armory
Scoure my best sword, companion of my youth,
Without which I seeme naked.

Cric.
Your love, sir, like strong water
To a deplor'd sick man, quicks your feeble limbs
For a poor moment. But after ones nights lodging
You'l fall so dull and cold, that Flavia
Will shrike and leape from bed as from a Sepulchre.
Shall I speak plainer, sir? Sheele Cuckold you.
Alas sheele Cuckold you.

Pan.
What me? a man of known discretion,
Of riches, yeers, and this gray gravity?
Ile satisfie'r with gold, rich cloaths and jewels.

Cric.
Wer't not farre fitter urge your sonne Eugenio
To woo her for himselfe?

Pan.
Cricca be gone.
Touch no more there: I will and must have Flavia,
Tell Lelio, if he grant th'm his sister Flavia;
Ile give my daughter to him in exchange.
Be gone, and finde me here within this halfe houre.

SCENE 3.

Ronca. Pandolfo.
Ron.
Tis well that servant's gone: I shall the easier
Winde up his master to my purposes.

Pan.
Sure this some novice of th'Artillery,
That winks and shoots: sir, prime prime your peece a new,
The powder's wet: tick, tock, tick, tock.

Ron.
A good ascendent blesse me: sir, are you frantick?

Pan.
Why frantick? are not knocks the lawfull courses
To open doores and eares?

Ron.
Of vulgar men and houses.

Pan.
Whose lodgings this? is't not the Astrologers?

Ron.
His lodging? no: tis the learn'd Phrontisterion
Of most divine Albumazar.

Pan.
Good sir,
If the doore break, a better shall redeeme it.

Ron.
How! all your land sold at a hundred yeeres purchase
Cannot repaire the damage of one poore rap,
To thunder at the Phrontisterion
Of great Albumazar?

Pan.
Why man? what harme?

Ron.
Sir, you must know my Masters heavenly brain,
Pregnant with mysteries of Metaphysicks,
Growes to an Embryo of rare contemplation,
Which at full time brought forth, excels by far
The armed fruit of Vulcans Midwifry
That leapt from Iupiters mighty Cranium.

Pan.
What of all this?

Ron.
Thus one of your bold thunders may abortive
And cause that birth miscarry, that might have prov'd
An instrument of wonders greater and rarer
Then Apollonius the Magitian wrought.

Pan.
Are you your Masters Countriman?

Ron.
Yes: why aske you?

Pan.
Then must I get an Interpreter for your language.

Ron.
You need not; with a wind instrument my Master made,
In five dayes you may breath ten Languages
As perfect as the Devill or himselfe.

Pan.
When may I speak with him?

Ron.
When't please the stars.
He puls you not a haire, nor pares a naile,
Nor stirs a foot without due figuring
The Horoscope: sit downe awhile and't please you,
I see the Heavens incline to his approach.

Pan.
Whats this I pray you?

Ron.
An Engine to catch stars,
A Mase to arrest such Planets as have lurkt
Foure thousannd yeers under protection
Of Iupiter and Sol.

Pan.
Pray you speak English.

Ron.
Sir, tis a perspicill, the best under Heaven:
With this Ile reade a leafe of that small Iliade
That in a wall-nut-shell was deskt, as plainly
Twelve long miles off, as you see Pauls from High-gate.

Pan.
Wonderfull workman of so rare an instrument!

Ron.
Twill draw the Moon so neer that you would sweare
The bush of thorns in't prick your eyes: the Chrystall
Of a large Arch, multiplies millions,
Works more then by point blank: and by refractions
Optick and strange, searcheth like the eye of truth,
All closets that have windows. Have at Rome,
I see the Pope, his Cardinals and his Mule,
The English Colledge and the Iesuits,
And what they write and do.

Pan.
Let me see too.

Ron.
So far you cannot: for this glasse is fram'd
For eyes of thirty: you are nigh threescore.
But for some fifty miles twill serve you,
With help of a refractive glasse that's yonder.
For triall sir: where are you now:

Pan.
In London.

Ron.
Ha you found the glasse within that chamber?

Pan.
Yes.

Ron.
What see you?

Pan.
Wonders, wonders: I see as in a Land-shappe
An honourable throng of noble persons,
As cleere as I were under the same roofe:
Seems by their gracious browes, and courteous looks
Something they see, which if it be indifferent
They'l favourably accept: if otherwise
They'l pardon: who or what they be, I know not.

Ron.
Why thats the court at Cambridge forty miles hence, what else?

Pan.
A Hall thrust full of bare-heads, some bald, some busht,
Some bravely brancht.

Ron.
Thats the University
Larded with Towns-men. Look you there: what now?

Pan.
Who? I see Dover Peere, a man now landing
Attended by two Porters that seeme to grone
Under the burthen of two loads of paper.

Rom.
That's Coriatus Persicus, and's observations
Of Asia and Africk.

Pan.
The price.

Ron.
I dare not fel't.
But here's another of another of a stranger vertue.
The great Albumazar by wondrous Art,
In imitation of this Perspicill,
Hath fram'd an Instrument that multiplies
Objects of hearing, as this doth of seeing,
That you may know each whisper from Prester John
Against the winde, as fresh as 'twere delivered
Through a trunk, or Glosters listning wall.

Pan.
And may I see't sir? blesse me once more.

Ron.
'Tis something ceremonious: but you shall try't.
Stand thus. What heare you?

Pan.
Nothing.

Ro.
Set your hands thus
That the vertex of the Orgon may perpendicularly
Point out our Zenith. What heare you now? ha, ha, ha.

Pan.
A humming noise of laughter.

Ro.
Why that's the Court
And University, that now are merry
With an old Gentleman in a Comedy. What now?

Pan.
Celestiall musick, but it seems far off.
List, list, 'tis neerer now.

Ro.
'Tis musick 'twixt the Acts. What now

Pan.
Nothing.

Ron.
And now?

Pan.
Musick again, and strangely delicate,
O most Angelicall! they sing!

Ron.
And now?

Pan.
Tis gone, give me't again.—O do not so.

Ron.
What heare you now?

Pan.
No more then a dead Oister.
O let me see this wondrous instrument.

Ron.
Sir, this is call'd an Otacousticon.

Ban.
A Cousticon?
Why tis a paire of Asses eares, and large ones.

Ron.
True: for in such a forme the great Albumazar
Hath fram'd it purposely, as fit'st receivers
Of sounds, as spectacles like eyes for sight.

Pan.
What Gold will buy't?

Ron.
Ile felt you when tis finisht.
As yet the Epiglottis is unperfect.

Pan.
'Soone as you can, and here's ten crownes in earnest,
For when tis done, and I have purchas'd it,
I meane to entaile it on my heires male for ever.
Spight of the ruptures of the common Law.

Ron.
Nay, rather giv't to Flavia for her joynture:
For she that marries you, deserves it richly.

SCEN. 4.

Cricca, Pandolfo, Ronca.
Cric.
Sir, I have spoke with Lelio, and he answers.

Pan.
Hang Lelio, and his answers. Come hither Cricca.
Wonder for me, admire, and be astonish'd,
Marvaile thy selfe to Marble at these Engines,
These strange Gorgonian instruments.

Cric.
At what?

Pan.
At this rare Perspicill and Otacousticon:
For with these two Ile heare and see all secrets,
Vndoe intelligencers. Pray let my man see
What's done in Rome; his eyee are just as yours are.

Ron.
Pandolfo, are you mad? be wise and secret:
See you the steepe danger you are tumbling in?
Know you not that these instruments have power
To unlocke the hidden'st closets of whole States?
And you reveale such mysteries to a servant.
Sir be advis'd, or else you learne no more
Of our unknowne Philosophy.

Pan.
Enough.
What newes from Lelio? shall I have his sister?

Cric.
He sweares and vowes he never will consent.
She shall not play with worne Antiquities,
Nor lye with Snow and Statutes; and such replies
That I omit for reverence of your worship.

Pan.
Not haue his sister? Cricca I will have Flavia,
Maugre his head: by meanes of this Astrologer
Ile enjoy Flavia. Are the stars yet inclin'd
To his divine approach?

Ro.
One minute brings him.

Cri.
What Strologer?

Pan.
The learned man I told thee,
The high Almanack of Germany, an Indian
Far beyond Trebesond and Tripoli,
Close by the Worlds end a rare Conjurer,
And great Astrologer. His name, pray sir?

Ron.
Albumazarro Meteoroscopico.

Cri.
A name of force to hang him without triall.

Pan.
As he excels in Science, so in Title.
He tels of lost plate, horses, and strayd cattell
Directly, as he had stolne them all himselfe.

Cri.
Or he, or some of his confederates.

Pan.
As thou respects thy life, look to thy tongue,
Albumazar has an Otacousticon.
Be silent, reverent, and admire his skill,
See what a promising countenance appeares:
Stand still and wonder, wonder and stand still.

SCENE 5.

Albumazar, Ronca, Pandolfo, Cricca.
Alb.
Ronca , the bunch of Planets new found out
Hanging at the end of my best Perspicill,
Send them to Galilæo at Padua;
Let him bestow them where he please. But the stars
Lately discovered twixt the horns of Aries,
Are as a present for Pandolfoes marriage,
And hence stil'd Sidera Pandolfæa.

Pan.
My marriage Cricca! he foresees my marriage:
O most Celestiall Albumazar!

Cri.
And sends y' a present from the head of Aries.

Alb.
My Almanack made for the Meridian
And height of Iapan, give't th'East Indy Company;
There may they smell the price of Cloves and Pepper,
Monkies and China-dishes five yeers ensuing,
And know the successe of the voyage of Magores,
For in the volume of the Firmament,
We children of the stars read things to come,
As clearely as poore mortalls stories past
In Speed or Hollingshead.

Ro.
The perpetuall motion
With a true larum in't to run twelve houres
'Fore Mahomets returne.

Alb.
Deliver it safe
To a Turky Factor, bid him with care present it
From me to the house of Ottoman.

Ro.
I will sir,

Cric.
Pray you stand here, and wonder now for me,
Be astonish't at his Gorgon, for I cannot.

Pan.
Vpon my life he proves a meere imposture.
Peace, not a word, be silent and admire.

Alb.
As for the issue of the next summers warre,
Reveale't to none, keepe it to thy selfe in secret,
As a touch-stone of my skill in prophesie. Begon.

Ron.
I go sir.

Alb.
Signior Pandolfo, I pray you pardon mee,
Exoticall dispatches of great consequence
Staid me; and casting the Nativity
O'th' Cham of Tartary, and a private conference
With a Mercuriall intelligence.
Y'are welcome in a good houre, better minute,
Best second, happiest third, fourth, fift, and scruple.
Let the twelve houses of the Horoscope
Be lodg'd with fortitudes, and fortunates,
To make you blest in your designes Pandolfo.

Pan.
Wer't not much trouble to your starry imployments,
I a poore mortall would intreat your furtherance
In a terrestriall businesse.

Alb.
My Emphemeris lies,
Or I foresee your errant: thus 'tis thus.
You had a neighbour cal'd Antonio,
A widdower like your selfe, whose onely daughter,
Flavia you love, and he as much admir'd
Your Child Sulpitia. Is not this right?

Pan.
Yes sir: O strange! Cricca admire in silence.

Alb.
You two decreed a counter-match betwixt you,
And purpos'd to truck daughters. Is't not so?

Pan.
Iust as you say't. Cricca admire and wonder.

Cric.
This no such secret: looke to your selfe, he'le cheate you.

Alb.
Antonio after this match concluded,
Having great summes of gold in Barbary,
Desires of you before he consummate
The Rites of Matrimony, he might goe thither,
For three moneths; but as now 'tis three and three
Since he imbarkt, and is not yet return'd.
Now sir your businesse is to me, to know
Whether Antonio be dead or living.
Ile tell you instantly.

Pan.
Hast thou reveal'd it?
I told it none but thee.

Cric.
Not I.

Pan.
Why stare you?
Are you not well?

Alb.
I wander 'twixt the Poles
And heavenly hinges, 'mongst excentricalls,
Centers, concentrickes, circles, and epicycles,
To hunt out an aspect fit for your businesse.

Cric.
Meane ostentation! for shame awake your selfe.

Alb.
And since the Lampe of Heaven is newly entred
Into Cancer, old Antonio is starke dead,
Drown'd in the Sea stone dead; for radius directorius
In the sixt house; and th'waning Moone by Capricorne,
He's dead, he's dead.

Cric.
'Tis an ill time to marry.
The Moone growes fork't, and walkes with Capricorne.

Pan.
Peace foole: these words are full of mysterie.

Alb.
What ominous face and dismall countenance.
Mark't for disasters, hated of all the heavens,
Is this that followes you.

Pan.
He is my servant,
A plaine and honest speaker, but no harme in him.

Cric.
What see you in my face?

Alb.
Horrour and darknesse, death and gallowses:
I'de sweare thou wert hang'd, stoodst thou but too foote higher:
But now the Starres threaten a nearer death:
Sir, send to toale his knell.

Pan.
What is he dead?

Alb.
He shall be by the dint of many stabs:
Onely I spy a little hope of scaping
Through the clouds, and foule aspects of death,

Cric.
Sir, pray give no credit to this cheater.
Or with his words of Art he'le make you dote
As much on his feign'd skill, as on faire Flavia.

SCEE 6.

Harpaz. Furbo. Album. Pandolfo. Cricca.
Har.
Stay villaine, stay, though safety't selfe defend thee
Thou dyest.

Fur.
Come doe thy worst, thrust sure, or die.

Cric.
For heavens sake Gentlemen stay your hands, helpe, helpe.
Helpe Albumazar.

Harp.
Thus to the hinderer
Of my revenge.

Cric.
Save me Albumazar.

Furb.
And thus, and thus, and thus.

Cric.
Master, I dye, I dye.

Harp.
Fliest thou base coward? 'tis not thy heels can save thee.

SCEN. 7.

Album. Pand. Cric.
Cric.
Oh, oh!

Pan.
What ailes thee Cricca?

Cri.
I am dead, I am dead.
Trouble your self no more.

Pan.
What dead & speak'st?

Cric.
Onely there's left a litle breath to tell you.

Pan.
Why where art hurt?

Cric.
Stab'd with a thousand daggers
My heart, my lights, my liver, and my skinne
Pierst like a sive.

Pan.
Here's not a wound, stand up,
'Tis but thy feare.

Cric.
'Tis but one wound all over:
Softly, oh softly: you have lost the truest servant. Farewell I die.

Alb.
Live by my courtesie, stand up and breath.
The dangerous and malignant influence is past;
But thanke my charity that put by the blowes.
The least of which threatned a dozen graves.
Now learne to scoffe divine Astrology,
And flight her servants.

Cri.
A Surgion, good sir, a Surgeon.

Pan.
Th'art well, th'art well.

Cric.
Now I perceive I am:
I pray you pardon me Divine Astrologer.

Alb.
I doe, but hence-forth laugh at Astrology
And call her servants Cheaters.

Pan.
Now to our businesse: on good Albumazar,

Albu.
Now since the moone passeth from Capricorne,
Through Aquarius to the watry signe of Pisces,
Antonio's drownd, and is devour'd by fishes.

Pan.
Is't certaine?

Alb.
Certaine.

Pan.
Then let my earnestnes
Intreat your skill a favour.

Alb.
It shall, but first
I'le tell you what you meane to aske me.

Pan.
Strange!

Alb.
Antonio dead that promised you his daughter,
Your businesse is to entreat me raise his Ghost,
And force it stay at home till it have perform'd
The promise past, and so returne to rest.

Pan.
That, that, y'have hit it, most divine Albumazar.

Alb.
Tis a hard thing; for de privationa ad habitū non datur regressus:
O what a businesse! what a Master piece
'Tis to raise up his Ghost whose body's eaten
By fish. This worke desires a planetary intelligence
Of Iupiter and Sol, and these great Spirits
Are proud, phantasticall: It askes much charges,
To entice them from the guiding of their Spheares
To waite on mortalls.

Pan.
So I may have my purpose, spare for no cost.

Alb.
Sir, spare your purse, Ile do it an easier way;
The worke shall cost you nothing.
We have an Art is cald Præstigiatory,
That deales with spirits and intelligences
Of meaner office and condition,
Whose service craves small charges: with one of these
Ile change some servant or good friend of yours
To the perfect shape of this Antonio:
So like in face, behaviour, speech, and action,
That all the Towne shall sweare Antonio lives.

Pan.
Most necromanticall Astrologer,
Doe this, and take me for your servant ever.
And for your paines, after the transformation
This chaine is yours, it cost two hundred pound,
Beside the Jewel.

Al.
After the worke is finish't, then how now?
What lines are these that looke sanguineous?
As if the stars conjur'd to do you mischiefe?

Pan.
How? mean you me?

Alb.
They're dusky marks of Saturne,
It seems some stone shall fall upon your head,
Threatning a fracture of the Pericranium.

Pan.
Cricca, come hither, fetch me my staffe again,
Threescore and ten's return'd: A generall Palsie
Shakes out the love of Flavia with a feare.
Is thore no remedy?

Alb.
Nothing but patience.
The Planet threatens so, whose prey you are.
The Stars and Planets daily war together.
Por should they stand at truce but one halfe houre
This wondrous Machin of the world would ruine.
Who can withstand their powerfull influence?

Pan.
You with your wisdome, good Albumazar.

Alb.
Indeed th'Egyptian Ptolomy the wise,
Pronounc't it as an Oracle of truth; Sapiens dominabitur astris.
Who's above there? Ronca bring down the cap
Made in the point of Mercury being ascendent:
Here put it on, and in your hand this Image,
Fram'd on a Tuesday when the fierce of warre
Mounted th'Horizon in the signe of Arries.
With these walke as unwounded as Achilles,
Dipt by his mother Thetis.

Pan.
You bind me to your service.

Alb.
Next get the man you purpose to transforme,
And meet me here.

Pan.
I will not fail to finde you.

Alb.
Mean while with Sciofericall instrument,
By way of Azimuth and Almicantarath
Ile seek some happy point in Heven for you.

Pan.
I rest your servant sir.

Al.
Let all the Stars
Guide you with most propitious influence.

SCENE 8.

Pandolfo. Cricca.
Pan.
Here's a strange man indeed, of skil profound?
How right he knew my busines, 'fore he saw me?
And how thou skoftst him when we talkt in private.
Tis a brave instrument his Otacousticon.

Cric.
In earnest sir, I tooke him for a cheater:
As many, under name of cunning men,
With promise of Astrology, much abuse
The gaping vulgar, wronging that sacred skill,
That in the starres reads all our actions.

Pan.
Is there no Archers o're our heads? look Cricca.

Cric.
None but the Arch of heaven, that cannot fall.

Pan.
Is not that made of Marble? I have read
A stone dropt from the Moone; and much I feare
The fit should take her now, and voyd another.

Cric.
Feare nothing sir, this charmed Mercuriall cup
Shields from the fall of mountaines: 'tis not a stone
Can checke his Art, walke boldly.

Pan.
I doe, let's in.