FACE

Sirrah, I'll strip you— Rogue, Rogue, out of all your sleights. Srah. You most notorious whelp, you insolent slave, Dare you do this? Why! who Am I, my Mongrel? Who am I? Speak lower, Rogue. Will you be so loud? By your means, Doctor Dog? Why, I pray you, have I Been countenanced by you? or you, by me? Do but collect, S r . where I met you first. Not of this, I think it. But I shall put you in mind, S r . at Pie-Corner, Taking your meal of steam in, from Cooks stalls Where, Like the Father of Hunger, you did walk Pi eously costive with your pinched horn-nose, And your complexion, of the Roman wash, Stuck full of black, and melancholic worms, Like poulder corns, shot, at the Artillery-yard. When you went pinned up, in the several rags, Yo'had raked, and picked from dungh S, before day, Your feet in mouldy S ppers, for your kibes, A felt of rug, and a thin thredden cloak, That scarce would cover your no-buttockes. When all your Alchemy, and your Algebra, Your Minerals, Vegetals, and Animals, Your Conjuring, Cozening, and your dosen of Trades Could not relieve your corpse, with so much linen Would make you tinder, but to see a fire; I ga'you countenance, credit for your Coals, Your Stills, your Glasses, your Materials, Built you a Furnace, drew you Customers, Advanced all your black Arts; lent you, beside. A house to practice in. Where you have studied the more thriving skill Of Bawdry, since. You might talk softlier, Rascal. The Place has made you valiant. S r ah— I shall turn desperate, if you grow thus loud. Hang thee, Colliar, And all thy pots, and pans, in picture I will, Since thou hast moved me. Write thee up Baud, in Pauls; have all thy tricks Of cozening with a hollow coal, dust, scrapings, Searching for things lost, with a sive, and sheeres, Erecting figures, in your rows of Houses, And taking in of shadows, with a glass, Told in read letters: And a face, cut for thee, Worse then Gamaliel Ratsey's, I will have A Book, but barely reckoning thy Impostures, Shall prou a true Phil phers stone, to Printers. Out you Dog-leach, The vomit of all prisons— Still spewed out For lying too heavy o'the basket. Bawd. Conjurer. Witch. Away this Brach. I'll bring thee, Rogue, within The Statute of Sorcery, tricesimo tertio Of Harry the eight: I and (perhaps) thy neck Within a noose, for laundring gold, and barbing. 'Tis his fault, He ever murmurs, and objects his pains, And says, the weight of all lies upon him. Slid, prove to day, who shall shark best. For which at supper, thou shalt fit in triumph, And not be stiled ` Do common, but Do proper, Dol singular: the longest cut, at night. Shall draw thee for his Dol particular. Oh, fear not him. While there die one, a week, O'the plague, he's safe, from thinking, towards London. Beside, he's busy at his hop-yardes, now, I had a letter from him. If he do, Hee'll send such word, for airing o'the house As you shall have sufficient time, to quit it. Though we break up a fortnight, it's no matter. Oh My Lawyers Clerk, I lighted on, last night, In Hol'bourne, at the Dagger. He would have (I told you of him) a Familiar, To rifle with at horses, and win cups. Get you Your robes on. I will meet him, as going out. Not be seen, away. Seem you very reserved. God be w'you, S r . I pray you, let him know that I was here. His name is Dapper. I would gladly have stayed, But— Who's that? He's come, I think, Doctor. Good faith, S r , I was going away. But I thought Sure, I should meet you. This is his worship. Yes. I. Faith, he doe's make the matter, S r . so dainty, I know not what to say. Would I were fairly rid on't, believe me. I cannot think you will, S r . But the Law Is such a thing—And then he says, Read's matter Falling so lately. It was a Clerk, S r . Nay, hear me, S r . you know the Law Better, I think You did so. What's that? I'll tell the Doctor so. Come, noble Doctor,' pray thee, let's prevail, This is the Gentleman, and he is no Chiause. Tut, do not say so. You deal, now, with a noble fellow, Doctor, One that will thank you, richly, and h'is no Chiause: Let that S r . move you. He has Four Angels, here. Doctor, wherein? To tempt you with these spirits? I draw you? A horse draw you, and a halter, You, and your Flies together. That know no difference of men. Good deeds, S r . Doctor Dogs-mouth. Slight I bring you No cheating Clim-o'the-Cloughs, or Claribels. That look as big as fine, and fifty, and flush, And spit out secrets, Like hight Custard Nor any melancholic under-scribe, Shall tell the Vicar: but, a special Gentle, That is the Heir to forty marks, a year, Consorts with the small Poets of the time, Is the sole hope of his old Grandmother, That knows the Law, and writes you six fair Hands, Is a fine Clerk, and has his Ciphering perfect, Will take his oath, o'the Greek Testament, If needs be, in his pocket: and can court His Mistress, out of Ovid. Did you not tell me, so? Hang him proud Stag, with his broad velvet head. But, for your sake, I'd choke ere I would change And article of breath, with such a Puck-fist. Come let's be gone. I am sorry, I ever embarked my self, in such a business. Will he take, then? Not a syllable, 'lesse you take. Upon no terms, but and Assumpsit. Why now S r . talk. Now, I dare hear you with mine honour. Speak. So may this Gentleman too No whi spring, Wherein? For what? How! You're mistaken, Doctor. Why, he do's ask one but for Cups, and Horses, A rifling Fly: none o'your great Familiars. God's-light, that's a new business! I understood you, a tame Bird, to fly Twice in a Term, or so; on Friday nights, When you had left the Office: for a Nagg, Of forty, or fifty shillings. Why this changes quite the case! Do'you think, that I dare move him? What? for that money? I cannot with my Conscience. Nor should you Make the request, me thinks. Why, then, Sir, I'll try. Say, that it were for all games, Doctor? Indeed! Speak you this from art? What! is he What? Will he win at cards too? A strange success, that some man shall be born too! Faith, I have a confidence in his good nature: You hear, he says, he will not be ingrateful. Troth, do it Doctor. Think him trusty, and make him. He may make us both happy in and hour: Win some five thousand pound, and send us two on't. And you shall, Sir. You have herd all? Nothing? Well, a rare Star Reigned, at your birth. The Doctor Swears that you are— Allied to the Queen of Faery. Yes, and that Yo'were born with a Caul o'your head. Come. You know it well enough, though you dissemble it. How! Swear by your fac? and in a thing, so known Unto the Doctor? How shall we, Sir, trust you I'the other matter? Can we ever think, When you have won five, or six thousand pound, Yo'll send us shares in't, by this rate? Go too. Go, thank the Doctor. He is your friend. To take it so. So? Another Angel. Must you? Slight, What else is Thanks? Will you be trivial? Doctor. When must he come, for his Familiar? Not, if she danced, to night. Did you never see Her royal Grace, yet? Your Aunt of Faery? Well, see her Grace, What ere it cost you, for a thing that I know. It will be somewhat hard to compass: But, How ever, see her. You are made, believe it, If you can see her. Her Grace is a lone woman, And very rich, and if she take a phant'sye, She will do strange things. See her, at any hand. 'slid, she may hap to leave you all she has: It is the Doctors fear. Let me alone take you no thought. Do you But say to me. Captain, I'll see her Grace. Enough. Can you remember this? Well, then, away. It's, but your bestowing Some twenty nobles, among her Graces Servants; And, put on a clean shirt: You do not know What grace her Grace may do you in clean linen. What! my honest Abel? Thou art well met, here. He shall do any thing. Doctor, do you hear? This is my friend, Abel, and honest fellow, He lets me have good Tobacco, and he do's not Sophisticate it, with Sack-lees, or Oil, Nor washes it in Muscadel, and Grains, Nor buries it, in gravel, under ground, Wrapped up in greasy leather, or pissed clouts: But keeps it in fine Lily-pots, that opened, Smell Like conserve of Roses, or French Beans. He has his Maple block, his silver tongue's, Winchester pipes, and fire of Juniper. A neat, spruce-honest-fellow, and no Goldmith. Already, Sir, ha'you found it? Lo'thee Abel! Sir. What, and so little beard? 'slid, Doctor, how canst thou know this so soon? I'am amused, at that! Which finger's that? Why, this is strange! Is't not, honest Nab? That's a secret, Nab. Why, how now Abel! Is this true? Nay, I'll not counsel thee. Thou hearst, what wealth, he says, spend what thou canst, Th'art Like to come too. A Crown? And towards such a fortune? Heart, Thou shalt rather gi'him thy shop. No Gold about thee? Out on thee, Nab, God's-light, there was such and offer, Shalt keepe't no longer, I'll gi'it him for thee? Doctor, Nab prays your Worship, to drink this, and swears He will appear more grateful, as your skill Do's raise him in the world. What is't, Nab? That he shall, Nab. Leave it, it shall be done, against afternoon. Now, Nab? Art thou well pleased, Nab? Away. Why, now, you smoky persecuter of Nature, Now, do you see, that something's to be done, Beside your Beech-coal, and your Corrosive waters, Your Cross-lets, Crucibles, and Cucurbites? You must have stuff, brought home to you, to work on? And, yet, you think, I am at no expense. In searching out these veins, then following them, Then trying'hem out. Before God, my intelligence Costs me more money, then my share oft comes too, In these rare works. The evening will set read upon you, Sir, You have colour for it, crimson, the read Ferment Has done his office. Three hours hence, prepare you To see projection. No Sir? Take The covering of o'Churches. Yes. Let'hem stand bore, as do their Auditory, Or cap them, new, with Shingles. I have blown, Sir, Hard for your Worship; thrown by many a Coal, When was not Beech; weighed those I put in, joust, To keep your heat, still even; These bleared eyes Have waked, to read your several colours, Sir, Of the pale C ron, the green Lion, the Crow, The Peacocks tail, the plumed Swan. Yes Sir At's prayers, Sir, he, Good man, he's doing his devotions, For the success. Good, Sir. Yes, Sir. Both blood, & spirit, Sir. And I shall carry it. Sir, I'll go look A little, how it heightens. Anon Sir. Yes Sir. Which on Worser. Sir? Whitish. I will, Sir. Sir please you Shall I not change the feltre? The Ground black, Sir. Yes, Sir, and then married'hem, And put'hem in a Bolthead, nipped to digestion, According as you bade me; when I set The liquour of Mars to circulation, In the same heat. Yes, by the token, Sir, the Retort brake, And what was saved, was put into the Pellicane, And signed with Hermes seal. Yes, Sir, He's ripe for inceration; He stands warm, In his ash-fire. I would not, you should let Any die now, if I might council Sir, For lucks-sake to the rest. It is not good. Nay, I know't Sir, I'haue seen th'ill fortune. What is some three Ounces Of fresh materials? No more, Sir, Of Gold, to amalgame, with some six of Mercuri Ask him, Sir. Yes, Sir. I. Sir? Wherein Sir? 'Twas not my fault, Sir, she would speak with you. I dare not Sir. Stay man, what is she? A Lords Sister, Sir. She's mad Sir, & sent hither— (He'll be mad too. Sir, to be cured. Lo you. Here Sir. Softly, Sir, speak softly. I meant To have told your Worship all. This must not hear, You're very right. Sir, she is a most rare scholar: And is gone mad, with studying Broughtons works. If you but name a word, touching the Hebrew, She falls into her fit, and will discourse So learnedly of Genealogies, As you would run mad, too, to hear her, Sir, Oh, diverse have run mad upon the Conference. I do not know, Sir: I am sent in hast, To fetch a Viale. I dare not, in good faith. H'is extreme angry, that you saw her, Sir. Oh the most affablest Creature, Sir! so merry! So pleasant! she'll mount you up, Like quicksilver, Over the helm; and circulate, Like oil; A very Vegetal: discourse of State, Of Mathematics, Ba dry, any thing — I'll come to you again, Sir. Here's one from Captain Face, Sir, Desires you meet him i'the Temple-Church, Some half hour hence, and upon earnest business. Sir, if you please to quit us, now; and come, Again, within two hours: You shall have My Master busy examining o'the works, And I will steal you in, unto the party, That you may see her Converse. Sir, Shall I say, You'll meet the Captains Worship? Sir. He do's pray, you'll not forget. But do so, good Sir, to avoid suspicion. This Gent'man has a par'lous head. As my life, Sir. And wilt thou insinuate what I am? and praise me? And say I am a Noble fellow? Oh what else, Sir? And, that you'll make her royal, with the Stone, And Empress; and your self King of Bantam. Will I Sir? Send your stuff Sir, that my Master May busy himself, about projection. Your Jack and all Sir. Not I Sir? Away Sir. Good Sir, go. And swallowed too, my Subtle. I have given him line, and now he plays, I faith. Through both the gills. A Wench is a rare bay , with which a Man No sooner's taken, but he straight firkes mad. Well said, sanguine. His Jack too; And's iron Shooing-horne. I ha'spoke to him. Well, I must not lose my wary Gamester, yonder. I, if I can strike a fine hook into him, now, The Temple-church, there I have cast mine angle. Well, pray for me. I'll about it. Sir. Yes, Sir. And save the ground? Sir, Putrefaction, Solution, Ablution, Sublimation, Cohobation, Calcination, Ceration, and Fixation. After Mortification. It's the powering on Your Aquam R Jesu, and then drawing him off, To the trine circle of the seven spheres. Malleation. Antimonium. A very Fugitive, he will be gone, Sir. By his viscosity, His oleosity, and his suscitability. With the calce of Eggshells, White Marble, Talck. Shifting, Sir, your elements, Dry into cold, cold into moist, moist in- To hight, hight into dry. It's a Stone, and not A Stone, a spirit, a soul, and a body; Which, if you do dissolve, it is dissolved, If you coagulate, it is coagulated, If you make it to fly, it flies. I told you he would be furious. Sir, Here's Nab, Has brought you another piece of Gold, to look on: (We must appease him. Give it me) and prays you You would devise (what is it Nab? ) I, a good lucky one, a thriving Sign, Doctor. God's-light, do not say so, He will repent he give you any more. What say you to his Constellation, Doctor? The Balance? Nab. Six o'thy legs more, will not do it, Nab. He has brought you a pipe of Tobacco, Doctor. Out with it Nab. Good! a Bona roba? Very good, Abel. No matter Abel. What dost thou deal, Nab? Good, His match too! on Nab. Gods lid, Nab! Send her to the Doctor, hither. Hurt it? It's the way To heal it, if'twere hurt; to make it more Followed and sought: Nab, thou shalt tell her this. Shee'll be more known, more talked of, and your Widows Are never of any price till they be famous; Their Honour is their multitude of Suitors. Send her, it may be thy good fortune. What? Thou dost not know. What, and dost thou despair, my little Nab, Knowing, what the Doctor has set down for thee, And seeing so many, o'the City, dubbed? One Glass o'thy water, with a Madame I know Will have it done Nab. What's her brother? a Knight? How! to quarrel? 'slid Nab. The Doctor is the only man In Christendom for him. He has made a Table, With Mathematical demonstrations, Touching the Art of Quarrels. He will give him And Instrument to quarrel by. Go, bring them, both; Him, and his Sister. And, for thee, with her The Doctor haply may persuade. Go to. Shalt give his Worship, a new Damask suit Upon the premises. He shall, He is the honestest fellow, Doctor. Say not, No offers, bring the Damask, and the Parties. And thy will too, Nab. Hee'll send you a pound, Doctor. He will do't. It is the gooddest soul. Abel about it. (Thou shalt know more anon. Away, be gone.) A miserable Rogue, and lives with Cheese, And has the worms. That was the cause indeed Why he came now. He dealt with me, in private, To get a medicine for them. A wife, a wife, for one on'vs, my deer Subtle: Wee'll eene draw lots, and he, that fails, shall have The more in goods, the other has in tail. I, or be such a burden, A man would scarce endure her, for the whole. Content. But Doll must have no breath on't. pray God I ha'not stayed too long. Good pox. Yoned costive Cheater Never came on. Iha' walked the round, Till now, and no such thing. Quit him? and Hell would quit him too, he were happy. God's-light would you have me stalk Like a Mill-jade, All day, for one, that will not yield us Grains? I know him of old. Let him go, black Boy, And turn thee, that some fresh news may possess thee. A noble Count, a Done of Spain (my deer Delicious compear, and my party-bawd) Who is come hither, private, for his Conscience, And brought munition with him, six great slops, Bigger then three Dutch Hoighs, beside round trunks, Furnished with Pistolets, and Pieces of eight, Will straight be here, my Rogue, to have thy Both That is the colour, and to make his battery Upon our Dol, our Castle, our Cinque-Port, Our Dover Pire, our what thou wilt. Where is she? She must prepare perfumes, delicate linen, The both in chief, a banquet, and her wit, For she must feel his Epididimis. Where is the Doxy? Are they within then? How much? Why this's a lucky day. Ten pounds of Mammon? Three of my Clerk. A Portague of my Grocer. This o'the Brothers, beside Reversions, And States, to come i'the Widow, and my Count. My share, to day, will not be bought for forty— Pounds, dainty Dorothee, art thou so near? As, with the few, that had entrenched themselves Safe, by their discipline, against a world, Dol: And laughed, within those trenches, and grew fat With thinking on the booties, Dol, brought in Daily, by their small parties. This deer hour, A doughty Done is taken, with my Doll; And thou mayest make his ransom, what thou wilt, My Dousabell: He shall be brought here, fettered With thy fair looks, before he see's thee, and thrown In a Downbed, as dark as any Dungeon; Where thou shalt keep him waking, with thy Drum; Thy Drum, my Dol; thy Drum; till he be tame As the poor Blackbirds were i'the great frost, Or Bees are with a basin: and so hive him I'the Swanskin Coverlid, and cambrick Sheets, Till he work Honey, and Wax, my little Gods-gift. And Adalantado, A Grand, Girl Was not my Dapper here, yet? Nor my Drugger? A pox on them, They are so long a furnishing. Such Stinkards Would not be seen, upon these festival days. How now! ha'you done? 'slid, Nab shall doo't, against he have the Widow, To furnish household. I pray, he keep away Till our new business be overpast. Oh no, not yet this hour. Gods will, then, Queen of Faery, On with your tire; and, Doctor, with your robes. Let's us dispatch him, for Gods sake. I warrant you, take but the QQ S I give you, It shall be brief enough, God's-light, here are more. Abel, and I think, the angry Boy, the Heir, That fame would quarrel. No, Not that I see. Away. Oh Sir, you are welcome. See her, and kiss her too. What? honest Nab! Ha'st brought the Damask? Nab. No Sir, here's Tobacco. It's Well done. Thou'lt bring the Damasketoo? Where's the Widow? Oh, is it so? Good time. Is your name Kastrill, Sir? Wherein, Sir? It seems Sir, you are but young About the town, that can make that a question. Sir, for the Duello, The Doctor, I assure you, shall inform you, To the least shadow of a hair: and show you, And Instrument he has, of his own making, Wherewith, no sooner shall you make report Of any Quarrel, but he will take the Height on't, Most instantly; and tell in what Degree, Of saf'ty it lies in, or mortality. And, how it may be born, whither in a right line, Or a half-circle; or may, else, be cast Into and angle blunt, if not acute: All this he will demonstrate. And then, Rules, To give, and take the Lie, by. Yes, in oblique, hee'll show you; or in circle: But never in diameter. The whole Town Study his Theorems, and dispute them, ordinarily. At the eating Academies. Any thing, what ever. You cannot think that subtlety, but he reads it. He made me a Captain; I was a stark Pimp, Iusto'your standing, before I met with him: It i'not two months since. I'll tell you his method. First, He will enter you, at some Ordinary. For why, Sir? Why, would you be A Gallant, and not game? Spend you? It will repair you, when you are spent. How do they live by their wits, there, that have vented Six times your Fortune's? I, forty thousand. I Sir. And Gallants, yet. Here's a young Gentleman, Is born to nothing, forty marks a year, Which I count nothing. H'is to be initiated, And have a Fly o'the Doctor. He will win you By unresistable luck, within this fortnight, Enough to buy a Baronry. They will set him Upmost, at the Groom-porters, all the Christmas. And, for the whole year through, at every place, Where there is play, present him with the Chair, The best attendance, the best drink, sometime Two glasses of Canary, and pay nothing; The purest linen, and the sharpest knife, The Partridge next his trencher: and, somewhere, The dainty bed, in private, with the Dainty. You shall ha'your Ordinaries bid for him, As Play-houses for a `Poet ; and the Master Pray him, aloud, to name what Dish he affects, Which must be buttered Shrimps: and those, that drink To no mouth else, will drink to his, as being The goodly President-Mouth of all the board. God's my life! Do you think it? You shall have a cast Commander, can but get In credit with a Glover, or a Spurrier, For some two pair, of eithers beware, aforehand, Will, by most swift posts, dealing with him, Arrive at competent means, to keep himself, His Punk, and naked Boy, in excellent fashion. And be admired for't. He will do more, Sir, when your Land is gone, (As men of Spirit hate to keep earth long) In a Vacation, when small money is stirring, And Ordinaries suspended till the Term, Hee'll show a Perspective, where on one side You shall behold the faces, and the persons Of all sufficient young Heirs, in town, Whose bonds are currant for commodity; On th'other side, the Merchant's forms, and others, That, without help of any second Broker, (Who would expect a share) will trust such parcels: In the third square, the very street, and sign Where the Commodity dwells, and do's but wait To be delivered, be it Pepper, Soap, Hops, or Tobacco, Ote-meale, Woad, or Cheeses. All which you may so handle, to enjoy, To your own use, and never stand obliged. Why, Nab here knows him. And then for making matches, for rich Widow's, Young Gentlewomen, Heirs, the fortunatest Man! He's sent too far, and near, all over England To have his counsel, and to know their Fortune's. I'll tell you, Sir, What he did tell me of Nab. It's a strange thing, (By the way you must eat no Cheese, Nab, it breeds Melan choly: And that same Melancholy breeds worms) but pass it, He told me honest Nab, here, was never at Tavern, But once in's life. And, then he was so sick— How should I know it? And he has no head To bear any Wine; for, what with the noise o'the Fiddlers, And care of his shop, for he dares keep no Servants— As he was feign to be brought home, The Doctor told me. And then a good Old Woman— I, that was with the grief Thou took st for b king seast at eighteen pence, For the waterwork Nay, so says the Doctor. Sir, he is but e now: But, if you have a Sister to fetch , Perhaps, your own pains may command her sooner; And he, by that time, will be free. Drugger, she's thine; the Damas e. Subtle, and I Must wrestle for her. Come on, M r . Dapper. You see, how I turn Clients, here, away, To give your cause dispatch. Ha'you performed The ceremonies were enjoined you? It's well: that shirt may do you More Worship then you think. Your Ant's a fire But that she will not show it, to-have a sighed on you. have you provided for her Graces Servants? Very good. Oh, you are too joust. I would you had had the other Noble in Mari S. He is come. Yes. Thrice, you must answer. If you have, say. She needs not doubt him, Sir Alas, he has nothing, But what he will partly withal, as willingly, Upon her Graces word (Throw away your purse) As she would ask it, (handkerchiefs, and all) She cannot bid that thing, but hee'll obey. If you have a Ring, about you, cast it off, Or a silver seal, at your wrist, her Grace will send Her Fairies here to search you, therefore deal Directly with her Highness. If they find That you conceal a mite, you are undone. All what? Keep nothing, that is transitory, about you, Bid play music. Look, the are come To pinch you, if you tell not truth. Advise you. Ti, ti, They knew't, they say. Ti, ti ti ti. I'the tother pocket? Nay, pray you hold. He is her Graces Ne phew. Ti ti ti? What care you? Good faith, you shall care. Deal plainly, Sir, and shame the Fairies. Show You are and Innocent. I thought, 'twas something. And, would you incur Your Ants displeasure for these trifles? Come I had rather you had thrown away twenty half-crowns. You may wear your leaden Heart still. How now? Gods lid, We never thought of him, till now. Where is he? Oh by no means. What shall we do with this same Puffin, here, Now he's o'the Spit? Who's there? Sir Epicure; My Master's i'the way. Please you to walk Three or four turns, but till his back be turned, And I am for you. Quickly, Dol. Sir, He shall Hold out, and 'twere this two hours, for her Highness; I can assure you that. We will not lose All we have done. For that, we'll put Sir, A stay in 'is mouth. Of Gingerbread. Make you it fit. He that hath pleased her Grace, Thus far, shall not now crinckle, for a little. Gape Sir, and let him fit you. Are they perfumed? and his both ready? Sir Epicure,, I am yours, Sir, by and by. Now preparing for pro iection, Sir. Your stuff will be all changed shortly. To Gold, and Silver, Sir. Yes, Sir, a little to give Beggars. At hand, here. I have told her such brave things, on you, Touching your bounty & your noble Spirit As she is almost in her fit to see you. But, good Sir, no Divinity i'your conference For fear of putting her in rage. Six men will not hold her down. And, then If the Old man should hear, or see you. The very House, Sir, would run mad. You know it How scrupulous he is, and violent, against the least act of sin. Physic, or Mathematics, Poetry, State, or Baudry (as I told you) She will endure and never startle; But No word of Controuer j. And you must praise her House, remember that, And her Nob Why this is yet A kind of , to have Dol ommon for a great Lady. To him, Dol, suckle him. This is the noble Knight, I told your Ladyship. Well said my Guiny- Oh, we shall have most fierce Idolatry! Very Like, Her Father was and Irish Costermonger. I'll be sworn, I herd it. I'll in, and laugh. Sir, you are too loud. I hear you, every word, Into the Laboratory: some fitter place, The Garden, or great Chamber above. How Like you her? But, do you hear? Good Sir beware, no mention of the Rabbines. Oh, it is well, Sir. Subtle — All's clear. And your quarreling Disciple? I must to my Captainship again, then. So I meant. What is she? A Bony-Bell? ? We'll draw lots, You'll stand to that? Oh, for a suit, To fallen now, Like a Curtine: Flap. You'll ha'the first kiss, because I am not ready. Who would you speak with? Gone, Sir, About some business. He'll return straight. But M r . Doctor, his Lieutenant, is here. I shall be proud to know you, Lady. At the door. What ll you do With these the while? Before God, She is a delicate Dab chick! I must have her. I will have this same Widow, now I have seen her, On any composition. have you disposed of them? Nay, but hear me. Nay, thou a to so violent now. Do but conceive, Thou art old, and canst not serve— Nay, But understand: I'll give you composition. Well Sir, I am silent. Will you go help, to fetch in Done, in state? Peace Subtle. Or, what do you say to a Collar of Brawn, cut down Beneath the Souse, and wriggled with a knife? Perhaps some Fleming, or some Hollander God him In D'alva's time: Count Egmonts Bastard. Praises the house, I think, I know no more But's Actium. Cossened, do you see? My worthy Donzel, Cossened. Full. Milked, in troth, sweet Done. OF the Sennora. 'slid, Subtle, how shall we do? Why, Dol's employed, you know. Stay? That he must not, by no means. Unless you'll mar all. God's-light, Hee'li suspect it. And then he will not pay, not half so well. This is a traveled Punque-Master, and do's know All the delays: a notable hight Rascal, And looks, already, Rampant. Mamm n, in no case! Mi vida? 'slid, Sub le, he puts me in mind o'the Widow. What dost thou say to draw her Would? And tell her, it is her Fortune. All our venture Now lies vpon't. It is but one man more. Which on's chance to have her. And beside, There is no Maiden head, to be feared, or lost. What dost thou think on't, ? The Credit of our house is engaged. Oh, by that light, I'll not buy now. You know your doom to me. Even take your lot, obey your chance, Sir; win her, And wear her, out for me. It is the common cause, therefore bethink you. Dol else must know it, as you said. That's now no reason, Sir. You hear the Done, too? By this air, I call, And lose the hinges. ol. Will you then do? Yes And le take her oo, with all her faults, Now, I do think on't better. As you please. Remember, now, that, upon any change, You never claim her. A Spanish Countess, Sir. Better? God's-light, make you that a question, Lady? Ask from your Courtier, to your Inns of Courtman, To your mere Millaner; They will tell you all Your Spanish Jennet is the best Horse. Your Spanish Stoop is the best Garb. Your Spanish Beard Is the best Cut. Your Spanish Ruff S are the best Wear. Your Span the best Dance. Your Spanish in a Glove The best Perfume. And, for your Spanish Pike, And Spanish Blade, let your poor Captain speak. Here comes the Doctor. I would 'told her all, Sir. And her right worshipful Brother, here, that she shall be A Countess: do not delay them Sir. A Spanish Countess. By this good rush, persuade her, She will cry Strawberry else, within this twelvemonth. Indeed, Sir? Nay good Sir. Be not so fierce. And kissed, and ruffled— And then come forth in pomp— Of keeping all the Idolaters o'the Chamber Barer to her, then at their prayers— And has her Pages, Huishers. Footmen, & Coaches— Nay eight— Yes, and have The Citizens gape at her, and praise her Tires, And My-Lords Goose turd bans, that rides with her. It is the Count come. The Doctor knew he would be here, by his Art. Is't not a gallant language that they speak? No Spanish, Sir. List Sir. He' admires your Sister. It's true he tells you, Sir: His Art knows all. That he do's Sir. Oh, no Sir. Dos he not use her bravely? Nay he will use her better. Into the Garden, Sir, Take you no thought, I must interpret for her. What's the matter, Sir? Death, Sir, We are undone. My Master will hear! Nay you must never hope to lay her now. How did you put her into't? Out of I told you so. 'slid stop her mouth. She'll never leave else. If the old man hea We are but fences, Ashes. Oh, we are lost. Now she hears him, she Oh Sir, we are defeated: all the Works Are flown in fumo. Every Glass is burst. Furnace, and all rend down: as if a Bolt Of thunder had been dri en through the house. Retorts, Receivers, Pellicanes, Bolt-heads, All struck in shivers. Help good Sir. Alas, Coldness, and Death invades him. Nay, Sir Mammon, Do the fair offices of a man. You stand, As you were readier to depart, then he. Who's there? My Lord her Brother is come. His Coach is at the door. Avoid his sighed, For he's as furious, as his Sister is mad. My brain is quite undone with the fume, Sir, I never must hope to be mine own man again. Faith, very little, Sir. A peck of coals, or so, which is cold comfort, Sir. And so am I, Sir. Nay, certainties Sir. Nay, look, Sir, You grieve him, now, with staying in his sighed: Good Sir, the Noble man will come too, and take you, And that may breed a Tragedy. I, and repent at home, Sir. It may be, For some good penance, you may have it, yet A hundred pound to the Box at Bethlehem. For the restoring such as have their wits. I'll send one to you to receive it. All flown, or stinks, Sir. I cannot tell Sir. There will be, perhaps, Something, about the scraping of the Shardes, Will cure the Itch, though not your itch of mind, Sir. It shall be saved for you, and sent home. Good Sir, This way, for fear the Lord should meet you. I. Yes, and as heavily As all the Gold he hoped for, were in his blood. Let us be light, though. Now to our Done. Good, Sir. Very well, Sir. Will you go fetch Done Diego off the while? Why you can do it as well, if you would set to't. I pray you prove your virtue. How, Surly! A very errant Rogue, Sir, and a Cheater, Employed here, by another Conjurer, That dos not love the Doctor, and would cross him If he knew how— Well said, Sir. He is The impudentest Rascal— By no means. Bid him be gone. There is not such a Foist, in all the town, The Doctor had him, presently: And finds, yet, The Spanish Count will come, here. Bear up, Subtle. And yet this Rogue, would come, in a disguise, By the temptation of another Spirit, To trouble our Art, though he could not hurt it. Do not believe him, Sir: He is the lying'st Swabber. Come your ways, Sir. Nay, here's and honest fellow too, that knows him, And all his tricks. Make good what I say, Abel, This Cheater would have cossen'd thee o'the Widow. He owes this honest Drugger, here, seven pound, He has had on him, in two-peny'orths of Tobacco. And what do's he owe for Lotium? Nay, Sir you must quarrel him out o'the house. No, Sir. Yes indeed Sir. Oh you must follow Sir, and threaten him tame. Hee'll turn again else. Drugger, this Rogue prevented us, for thee: We' had determined, that thou shouldst have come, In a Spanish suit, and have carried her so; and he A Brokerly slave, goes, puts it on himself. Hast brought the Damask? Thou must borrow, A Spanish suit. Hast thou no credit with the Players? I know not Nab. Thou shalt, if I can help it. Hieronimo's old Cloak, Ruff, and Hat will serve: I'll tell thee more, when thou bringest them. What did he come for? I conceive. Come Subtle, Thou art so down upon the least disaster! How wouldst though have done, if I had not helped thee out? Who would ha'lookt, it should ha'beene that Rascal? Surly? He had died his beard, and all. Well, Sir, Here's Damask come, to make you a suit. He is gone to borrow me a Spanish habit, I'll be the Count, now. Within, with my Lords Sister: Madame Dol Is entertaining her. You will not offer it? Stand to your word, Or—Here comes Dol. She knows— Strict for my right. How now, Dol? Hast'told her, The Spanish Count will come? Who's that? She lies. This is some trick. Come leave your Quiblins, Dorothee. It's he, by this good day. We are undone, and taken. No: 'twas within the Walls. Be silent, not a word, if he call, or knock. I'll into mine old shape again, and meet him, Of Jeremy, the Butler. In the mean time, Do you two pack up all the goods, and purchase, That we can carry i'the two trunks. I'll keep him Off for to day, if I cannot longer: And then At night, I'll ship you both away to Ratcliffe, Where wee'll meet to morrow, and then wee'll share. Let Mammon's Brass, and Peuter keep the Cellar: Wee'll have another time for that. But, Dol, pray thee go heat a little water, quickly, Subtle must shave me. All my Captains beard Must off, to make me appear smooth Jeremy. You'll do't? And not cut my throat, but trim me? What mean you Sir? Good Sir, Come from the door. Yet farther, you are to near, yet. The House, Sir, has been visited. No, Sir. I had it not. Yes, Sir. My Fellow, The Cat, that kept the Buttery, had it on her A week, before I spied it: But I God her Conveyed away, i'the night. And so I shut The house up for a Month- Purposing the ̄ , Sir. to have burned Rose-vinegar, Triackle, and Tar, And, have made it sweet, that you should never ha'knowne it: Because I knew the News would but afflict you, Sir. How Sir? Sir. Their wisdoms will not say so. Did you see me at all? Surly come! And Mammon made acquainted? They'll tell all. (How shall I beat them off? What shall I do?) Nothing's more wretched, then a guilty conscience. What mean you, Sir? Another men house? Here is the Owner, Sir. Turn you to him, And speak your business. The Gentleman is distracted, Sir. No Lungs Nor Lights ha'beene seen here these three weeks, Sir, Within these doors, upon my word. Yes Sir, I am the Housekeeper, And know the keys ha'not been out o'my hands. You do mistake the house, Sir. What sign was't at? I cannot tell Sir. Two of the Fools? You talk as idly as they. Good faith, Sir, I think the Moon has crazed them all. (Oh me, The angry Boy come too? Hee'll make a noise And never away till he have betrayed us all.) Who would you speak with, Sir? Upon my trust, the doors were never open, Sir. Ananias too? And his Pastor? These are all broke lose, Out of S. Katherine's, where they use to keep, The better sort of Mad-folkes. Peace, you Drunkards. Sir, I wonder at it! Please you, to give me leave To touch the door, I'll try and the Lock be changed. Good faith, Sir, I believe, There's no such thing. It's all Deceptio visus. Would I could get him away. (Our Clerk within, that I forgotten) I know not, Sir. Would! Illusions, some spirit o'the air: (His gag is melted, And now he sets out the throat.) Believe it Sir, i'the air. Or you will else, you Rogue. Dismiss this rabble, Sir. What shall I do? I am catched. Sir, you were wont to affect mirth, and wit. But here's no place to talk on't i'the street. Give me but leave, to make the best of my fortune, And only pardon me abuse of your House. It's all I beg. I'll help you to a Widow, In recompense, that you shall gi'me thanks for, Will make you seven years younger, and a rich one. It's but your putting on a Spanish Cloak, I have her within. You need not fear the House, It was not visited. It is true, Sir. Pray you forgive me. How now! Is his mouth down? (A pox, I herd him, and you too.) He's undone, then. I have been feign to say, the House is haunted With Spirits, to keep Churl back. Sure, for this night. Did you not hear the coil, About the door? Show him his Aunt, and let him be dispatched: I'll send her to you. Ha'you done there? I'll gi't mine Aunt. I'll go and fetch the writings. Where's Subtle? Drugger is at the door, go take his suit, And bid him fetch a Parson presently. Say he shall marry the Widow. Thou shalt spend A hundred pound by the service. Now, Queen Dol, have you packed up all? And how do you Like The Lady Pliant? Give me them. Yes, I'll come to you presently. What now, a billing? Drugger has brought his Parson, take him in, Subtle, And send him back again, to wash his face. If you can get him. A trick, that Dol shall spend ten pound a month by. Is he gone? I'll go bestow him. Come my Venturers. You have packed up all? Where be the Trunks? Bring forth. Let's see them. Where's the Money? Mammon's ten pound: Eight score before. The Brothers' money, this. Druggers and Dappers. What Paper's that? If she should have precedence of her Mistress? What box is that? Wee'll wet it to morrow: and our Silver-beakers, And Tavern cups. Where be the French Petticoats, And Girdles, and Hangers? Is Druggers Damask, there? And the Tobacco? Give me the Keys. It's true, you shall not open them, indeed, Nor have them forth. Do you see? Not forth, Dol. No my Smock-rampant. The right is, my Master Knows all, has pardoned me, and he will keep them. Doctor it's true (you look) for all your Figures. I sent for him, indeed. Wherefore good Partners, Both He and She, be satisfied. For here Determines the Indenture tripartite Betwixt Subtle, Dol, and Face. All I can do Is to help you over the wall, o'the backside; Or lend you a sheet, to save your Velvet Gown, Doll. Here will be Officers presently; bethink you, Of some course suddenly to escape the Dock, For thither you'll come else. Hark you, Thunder. Dol, I am sorry for thee i'faith. But hearst thou? It shall go hard, but I will place thee somewhere: Thou shalt ha'my Letter to M rs Amo. Or Madame Imperial. Subtle, Let's know where you set up next; I'll send you A Customer, now and then, for old acquaintance: What new course have you? Sir, have you done? Is it a Marriage? perfect? Off with your Ruff, and Cloak then, be your self, Sir. I, he would ha'built The City new; and made a Ditch about it Of Silver, should have run with Cream from Hogsden: That, every Sunday in More-fields, the Younkers, And Tits, and Tom-boyes should have fed on gratis. If I can hear of him, Sir, I'll bring you word, Unto your lodging: for in troth, they were strangers To me, I thought them honest, as my self, Sir. No this was Abel Drugger. Good Sir, go. And satisfy him; tell him, all is done: He stayed too long a washing of his face. The Doctor, he shall hear of him at Westchester: And of the Captain, tell him at Yarmouth, or Some good Port-town else, lying for a wind. If you can get off the Angry Child now, Sir— Yes, but go in, and take it, Sir. So I will Sir. Gentlemen, My Partly a little fell in this last Scene, Yet 'twas decorum. And though I am clean God off, from Subtle, Surly, Mammon, Dol, Hight Ananias, Dapper, Drugger, all With whom I traded; yet I put my self On you, that are my Country: And this Pelf, Which I have God, if you do quit me, rests To feast you often, and in item new guests. They did pass through the doors then, Or walls, I assure their Eyesights, and their Spectacles; For here, Sir, are the keys; and here have been, In this my pocket, now, abou twenty days. And for before, I kept the Fort alone, there. But that it's yet not deep i'the afternoon, I should believe my Neighbours had seen double Through the Black-pot, and made these apparitions: For, on my faith to your Worship, for these three weeks And upwards, the door has not been opened. Like a Wench with Child, Sir, That were, but now, discovered to her Master. Thy hair went off? Good. I those same Are best of all. Where are they? Hark, the Doctor. Good M r . Kastril. Is this your Sister? The Count is come. Subtle, in troth. I needs must have this Widow. Think: you must be sudden. Would you were altogether.)