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Thy worst. I fart at thee. What to do? lick figs Out at my— Oh, let the wild sheep lose. I'll gum your silks With good strong water, an'you come. I shall mar All that the Taylor has made, if you approach. Yes faith, yes faith. I'll tell you, Since you know not your self. Yes. You were once (time's not long passed) the good, Honest, plain, liuerie-three-pound-Thrum; that kept Your Masters worships house, here, in the Friars, For the vacations. Since, by my means, translated Suburb-captain. Within men memory, All this, I speak of. I do not hear well. I wish, you could advance your voice, a little. So S r . Your Master's house? Yes, in your Master's house. You, and the Rats, here, kept possession. Make it not strange. I know, you were one, could keep The Buttery-hatch still locked, and save the chippings, Fell the dole-beer to Aqua-v take men, The which, together with your Christmas vails, At Post, and Pair, your letting out of Counters, Made you a pretty stock some twenty marks, And gave you credit, to converse with cobwebs, Here, since your Mistress death hath broke up house. No, you Scarabe, I'll thunder you, in pieces. I will teach you How to beware, to tempt a Fury' again That carries tempest in his hand, and voice. No, your Clothes. Thou Vermin have I taken thee, out of dung, So poor, so wretched, when no living thing Would keep thee company, but a Spider, or worse? Raised thee from brooms, and dust, and watering pots? Sublsm'd thee, and exal ed thee, and fixed thee I'the third region, the high state of grace? Wrought thee to spirit, to quintessence, with pains Would twice have won me the Philosophers work? Put thee in words, and fashion? made thee fit For more then ordinary fellowships? Given thee thy oaths, thy quarreling dimensions? Thy rules, to cheat at horserace, cockpit, cards, Dice, or what ever gallant tincture, else? Made thee a Second, in mine own great Art? And have I this for thank? Doe'you rebel? Do you fly out, i'the projection? Would you be gone now? Slave, thou hadst had no Name, Never been known, passed Equi Clibanum, The heat of horse-dung, under ground, in cellars, Or and Alehouse, darker then deaf John's: be lost To all mankind, but Laundresses, and Tapsters, Had not I been. And hang thy self, I care not. Away you Trencher-rascal. Cheater. Cowherd. Cutpurse. Why so it do's. Yes, but they are not aequal. I, they may. Dorothee, Mistress Dorothee, O'ds precious, I'll do any thing. What do you mean? Not I, by heaven. Would I were hanged then. I'll conform my self. What should I swear? Let me not breath, if I meant ought, beside. I only used those speeches, as a spur To him. Agreed. Slight the knot Shall grow the stronger, for this breach, with me. Royal Dol! Spoken Like Claridiana, and thy self. Who's that? one rings. To the windo' Who is it, Dol? Stay. Who shall doo't? Enough. Captain, I have returned you all my answer. I would do much S r . for your love—But this I neither may, nor can. Pray you, forbear. You do me wrong good S r . To tempt my art, and love, Sir, to my peril. Before heaven, I scarce can think you are my friend, That so would draw me to apparent danger. Good words S r . Pray you, le'me speak with you. First, hear me— Pray ye' S r . Your Humour must be law. Why S r . Before Heaven, you do not apprehend the lose You do your self, in this. Marry, to be so'importunate for one, That, when he has it, will undo you all: He'll win up all the money i'the Town. Yes. And blow up Gamester, after Gamester, As they do crackers, in a Puppit-play. If I do give him a Familiar, Give you him all you play for; never set him: For he will have it. I told you so. I say, then, not a mouth shall eat for him At any Ordinary, but o'the Score, That is a gaming mouth, conceive me. He'll draw you all the treasure of the realm, If it be set him. I, Sir, and reason too; the ground of art. H'is o'the only best complexion The Queen of Fairy loves. Peace. He'll overhear you. Sir, should she but see him— Do not you tell him. The Spirits of dead Holland, living Isaac, You'd swear, were in him: such a vigorous luck As cannot be resisted. Slight he'll put Six o'your Gallants, to a cloak, indeed. He hears you, man. Why, as you please, my venture follows yours. Nay Captain, Yo'll tell all, now. No, no, he did but jest. Oh, good Sir, There must a world of ceremonies pass, You must be bathed, and fumigated, first; Beside, the Queen of Faery do's not rise, Till it be noon. And she must bless it. Not, since she kissed him, in the cradle, Captain, I can resolve you that. Who's there? Anon. (Conduct him forth, by the back way) Sir, against one a Clock, prepare your self. Till when you must be fasting; only, take Three drops of vinegar, in, at your nose; Two at your mouth; and one, at either ear; Then, both your fingers ends; and, wash your eyes; To sharpen your five Senses; and, cry Hum, Thrice; and then Buz, as often; and then, Come. A seller of Tobacco? 'Vmh. Free of the Grocers? Well. Your business, Abel? I do If I do see'hem. H'is a fortunate fellow, that I am sure on. And, in right way to'ward riches. This Summer. He will be of the Clothing of his company. And, next spring, called to the Scarlet. Spend what he can. Sir, you must think, He may have a receipt, to make hair come. But he'll be wise, preserve his youth, and fine for't: His fortune looks for him, another way. By a rule, Captain, In Metaposcopie, which I do work by, A certain Star i'the forehead, which you see not. Your Chestnut, or your Olive-coloured face Do's never fail: and your long Ear does promise. I knew't, by certain spots too, in his teeth, And on the nail of his Mercurial finger. His little finger, Look. Yo'were born upon a Wednesday. The Thumb, in Chiromantie, we give Venus; The Forefinger to Jove; the Amid, to Saturn; The Ring to Solemnizing, the Least, to Mercury: Who was the Lord, Sir, of his Horoscope, His House of life being Libra. Which foreshowed, He should be a Merchant, and should trade with Balance. There is a Ship now, coming from Ormu's, That shall yield him, such a Commodity Of Drugs. This is the West, and this the South? And those are your two sides? Make me your Door, then, South; your broad side, West: And, on the East-side of your shop, aloft, Write Mathlaj, Tarmiel, and Baraborat; Upon the North-part, Rael, Velel, Thiel, They are the names of those Mercurian spirits, That do fright flies from boxes. And Beneath your threshold, bury me a Loadstone To draw in Gallants, that wear spurs: The rest, They'll seem to follow. And, on your stall, a Puppet, with a vice, And a Court-fucus, to call City-dames. You shall deal much, with Minerals. I, I know, you've Arsnike, Vitriol, Sal Tartre, Argaile, Alkaly, Cinoper. I know all. This fellow, Captain, Will come, in time, to be a great Distiller, And give a say (I will not say directly, But very fair) at the Philosophers stone. And a direction for his shelves. You're pleasant, Sir. How now? Heart, I cannot speak with'hem. Where? Face, Go you, and shift, Dol, you must presently make ready, too. Oh, I did look for him With the suns rising. 'Meruaile, he could sleep. This is the day, I am to perfect for him The Magisterium, our great work, the Stone; And yield it, made, into his hands: Of which, He has, this month, talked, as he were possessed on't, And, now, he's dealing pieces on't, away. Me thinks, I see him, entering Ordinaries, Dispensing for the pox; and Plaguy-houses, Reaching his dose; Walking More-fields for Lepers; And offering Citizens Wives Pomander Bracelets, As his preservative, made of the Elixir; Searching the Spittle, to make old Bawds young; And the High ways, for Beggars, to make rich. I see no end of his labours. He will make Nature ashamed, of her long sleep, when Art, Who's but a Stepdame, shall do more, then she, In her best love to Mankind, ever could. If his Dream last, He'll turn the Age, to Gold. Gentle Son, good morrow, And, to your friend, there. What is he, is with you? Son, I doubt Yo'are covetous, that thus you meet your time I'the joust point: prevent your day, at morning. This argues something, worthy of a fear Of importune, and arnall appetite. Take heed, you do not cause the blessing leave you, With your ungoverned hast. I should be sorry, To see my labours, now, eene to perfection, God by long watching, and large patience, Not prosper, where my Love, and Zeal hath plac'd'hem. Which (heaven I call to witness, with your self, To whom, I have poured my thoughts) in all my ends, Have looked no way, but unto public good, To pious uses, and deer Charity No grown a prodigy with men. Wherein If you, my Son, should, now, prevaricate, And, to your own particular lustest, employ So great, and catholic a bliss; Be sure, A curse will follow, yea, and overtake Your subtle, and most secret ways. Who is, Indeed, Sir, somewhat caustiue of belief Towards your Stone. Would not be gulled. Well, Son, All that I can convince him in, is this, The Work is done: Bright Solemnizing is in his robe. We have a medicine of the triple Soul, The glorified spirit. Thanks be to heaven, And make us worthy of it. Ulen spiegle. Look well to the Register, And let your heat, still, lessen by degrees To the Aludels. Did you look O'the Bolthead yet? I. What's the complexion? Infuse vinegar, To draw his vola le substance, and his tincture: And let the water in Glass E. be feltered, And put into the Gripes egg. Lute him, well; And leave him closed in Balneo. I'haue another work; you never saw, Son, That, three days since, passed the Philoso hers wheel, In the lent heat of Athanor; and's become Sulphur o'nature. What needs you? You have enough, in that is, perfect. Why this is Covetise! How now. Marry, yes. And bring me the complexion of Glass B. Yes Son, were I assured Your piety were firm, we would not want The means to glorify it. But I hope the best: I mean to tinct C. in sand-hate, tomorrow, And give him imbibition. No Sir ofred. F. is come over the helm too, I thank my Maker, in S. Mary's both, And shows Lac Virginis. Blessed be heaven. I sent you of his faeces there, calc ed. Out of that calx, I'ha'wonne the salt of Mercury. Yes, and reverberating in Athanor. How now? What colour says it? No, It's not perfect, would it were the Crow. That work wants something. Are you sure, you loos'd'hem I'their own menstrue? The process, then, was right. I thinke'twas so. We should have a new Amalgama. But I care not. Let him e'ene die; we have enough, beside, In Embrion. H. ha his white shirt on? Give him nine pound, you may gi'him ten. This needs not. But that you will have it, so, To see conclusions of all. For two Of our inferior works, are at fixation. A third is in Ascension. Go your ways, Ha'you set the Oil of Luna in Kemia? And the Philosophers vinegar? Son, be not hasty, I exalt our Medicine, By hanging him in Balneo Vaporoso; And giving him solution; then congeal him, And then dissolve him; then again congeal him; For look, how oft I iterate the work, So many times, I add unto his virtue. As, if at first, one Ounce convert a hundred, After his second lose, he'll turn a thousand; His third solution, ten: his fourth a hundred. After his fifth, a thousand thousand Ounces Of any imperfect mettle, into pure Silver, or Gold, in all examinations, As good, as any of the natural Mine. Get you your stuff here, against afternoon, Your Brass, your Pewter, and your Andirons. Yes. You may bring them, too. We'll change all mettle's. Yes, and your Racks. If e please. How Sir! Why what have you observed, Sir, in our Art, Seems so impossible? Sir, do you Believe that eggs are hatched so? Why, I think that the greater Miracle. No Egg, but differs from a Chicken, more, Then Metals in themselves. The same we say of Led, and other Metals, Which would be Gold, if they had time. I, for 'twere absurd To think that Nature, in the earth, bred Gold Perfect i'the instant. Something went before. There must be remote Matter. Marry, we say. It is, of the one partly, A humid exhalation, which we call Materiam liquida, or the V ctuous Water; On th'other partly, a certain crasse, and viscous Portion of earth; both which, concorporate, Do make the elementary matter of Gold: Which is not, yet, propriam materiam, But commune to all Metals, and all Stones. For, where it is forsaken of that moisture, And hath more dryness, it becomes a Stone; Where it retains more of the humid fatness, It turns to Sulphur, or to Quicksilver: Who are the Parents of all other Metals. Nor can this remote Matter, suddenly, Progress so from extreme, unto extreme, As to grow Gold, and leap over all the means. Nature does, first, beget th'imperfect; then Proceeds she to the perfect. Of that airy, And oily water, Mercury is engendered; Sulphur o'the fat, and earthy partly; the one (Which is the last) supplying the place of Male, The other of the Female, in all Metals. Some do believe Hermaphrodeity, That both do act, and suffer. But these two Make the rest ductile, malleable, extensive. And, even in Gold, they are; for we do find Seeds of them, by our fire, and Gold in them: And can produce the species of each mettle More perfect thence, then Nature does in earth. Beside, who does not see, in daily practice, Art can beget Bees, Hornets, Beetles, Wasps, Out of the Carcases, and dung of Creatures; Yea, Scorpions, of and herb, being ritely placed. And these are living Creatures, far more perfect, And excellent, then Mettle. Sir? And all these, named, Intending but one thing: which art our Writers Used to obscure their Art. Was not all the knowledge Of the Egyptians writ in mystic Symbols? Speak not the Scriptures oft in Parables? Are not the choicest Fables of the Poets, That were the Fountains, and first Springs of Wisdom, Wrapped in perplexed Allegories? God's precious—What do you mean? Go in, good Lady; Let me entreat you. Where's this Varlet? You very knave. Do you use me, thus? Go in, and see, you traitor. Go. Nothing Sir. Nothing. All Arts have still had, Sir, their adversaries, But ours the most ignorant. What now? Would she Sir? Follow me. Why Rascal! What call you her Brother? And shall we twitch him? Dol, my Lord Whachums Sister, you must now Bear your self statelich. But will he send his And rons? Oh Monsieur Caution, that will not be gulled? What, more G dgeons! Dol, scout, scout; stay Face, you must go to the door. pray God, it be my Anabaptist. Who is't Dol? Gods so! it's he, he said he would send. What call you him? The sanctified Elder, that should deal For Mammon's, Jack, and Andirons! Let him in. Stay, help me of, first, with my gown. Away Madame, to your withdrawing Chamber. Now, In a new tune, new gesture, but old language. This fellow is sent, from one negotiates with me About the stone, too; for the holy Brothers Of Amsteredam; the exiled Saints: that hope To raise their discipline, by it. I must use him In some strange fashion, now, to make him admire me. Take away the Recipient, And rectify your Menstrue, from the Phlegma. Then pour it, Oh the Solemnizing, in the Cucurbite, And let'hem macerate, together. No. Terra damnatam Must not have entrance, in the work. Who are you? What's that? A Lullianist? a Ripley? Filius artis? Can you sublime, and dulcefie, calcine? Know you the sapor pontic? sapor stipstick? Or, what is Homogene, or Heterogene? Heathen, you Knipper-doling? Is Arssacra, Or Chrysopoeia, or Spagirica, Or the Pamphysick, or Panarchick knowledge, A Heathen language? How? Heathen Greek? Sirrah, my Varlet, stand you forth, and speak to him Like a Philosopher: Answer, the language. Name the vexations, and the Martyrizations Of Metals, in the Work. This is Heathen Greek, to you, now? And when comes Vivification? What's Cohobation? What's the proper passion of Metals? What's your Ultimum supplicium auri? This's Heathen Greek, to you? And, what's your Mercury? How know you him? How do you sublime him? Your Magisterium, now? What's that? This's Heathen Greek to you, still? Your L pis Philosophicus? Enough. This's Heathen Greek, to you? What are you Sir. Oh, you are sent from M r . Wholesome, Your Teacher? Good. I have Some Orphans goods to come here. Why do you ask? 'slid, you'd cossen, else, And, if their Parents were not of the Faithful? I will not trust you, now I think on't, Till I have talked with your Pastor. have you brought money To buy more Coals? No? How so? How! What's your name? Out, the Varlet That cossend the Apostles! Hence, away, Flee Mischief; had your holy Consistory No name to send me, of another found; Then wicked Ananias? Send your Elders, Hither, to make atonement for you, quickly, And give me satisfaction; or out goes The fire: and down the Alembekes, and the Furnace. Piger Henricus, or what not. Thou wretch, Both Sericon, and Bufo, shall belost, Tell them. All hope of rooting out the Bishops, Or the Antichristian Hierarchy shall perish, If they stay threescore minutes. The Aqueity, Terreity, and Sulphureity Shall run together again, and all be annulled Thou wicked Ananias. This willfetch them, And make'hem hast towards their gulling more. A man must deal Like a rough Nurse, and fright Those, that are froward, to and appetite. How now! What Mates? What Baiards have we here? I was devising now. No, that way is stale, and Common. A Towns. Man, born in Taurus, gives the Bull; Or the Bullshead: In Aries, the Ram. A poor devise. No. I will have his Name Formed in some mystic character; whose radii, Striking the senses of the passers by, Shall, by a virtual influence, breed affections, That may result upon the party owns it: As thus. He first shall have a Bell, That's Abel; And, by it, standing one, whose name is Dee, In a rug Gown; There's Worser. and R g, that's Drug: And, right anenst him, a Dog snarling Er; There's Drugger, Abel Drugger. That's his sign. And here's now Mystery, and Hieroglyphic. Abel, thou art made. I did tell you, Captain. Oh good Captain. It's good Tobacco this! What is't and ounce? Oh, no: And shall, Sir. This works. Rather the less. For she may be so light She may want grains. Faith, best let's see her first, and then determine. Mum. Away, you to your Surly yonder, Catch him. I fear it. Why, this does qualefie. This qualefies more. This qualifies, most. Why, thus it should be, now you understand. Have I discourse worser so unto you, of our Stone? And, of the good that it shall bring your cause? Showed you (beside the main of hiring forces Abroad, drawing the Hollanders, your friends, From the Indies, to serve you, with all their Fleet) That even the medicinal use shall make you a faction, And party in the Realm. As, put the case, That some great Man, in stat , he have the Gout, Why you but send three drops of your Elixir, You help him straight: There you have made a Friend. Another has the Palsy, or the Dropsy, He takes of your incombustible stuff, He's young again: There you have made a Friend. A Lady, that is passed the feat of body, Though not of mind, and hath her face decayed Beyond all cure of painting; you restore With the Oil of Tal k: There you have made a Friend. And all her friends. A Lord, that is a Leper, A Knight, that has the boneache, or a Squire That hath both these, you make'hem smooth, and found, With a bore fricace of your medicine: Still, You increase your Friends. And, then, the turning of this Lawyers pewter To plate, at Christmas. Yet, Ananias? Or changing His parcel gilded, to massy Gold. You cannot But raise you Friends. With all, to be of power To pay and army, in the field; to buy The King of France, out of his Realms; or Spain, Out of his Indies: What can you not do, Against Lords Spiritual, or Temporal, That shall oppone you? You may be any thing, and leave of to make Long-winded exercises: or suck up, Your would, and hum, in a tune. I not deny, But such as are not graced, in a State, May, for their ends, be adverse in Religion, And get a tune, to call the flock together: For (to say sooth) a tune do's much, with women, And other phlegmatic people, It is your Bell. No warning with you? Then, farewell my patience. God's-light, it shall down: I will not be thus tortured. All shall perish. I have spoke it. No, nor your holy vizard, to win Widow's To give you Legacies; or make zealous Wives To rob their Husbands, for the common cause; Nor take the start of Bands, broke but one day, And say, they were forfeited, by providence. Nor shall you need, over night, to eat huge meals, To celebrate your next days fast the better: The while the Brothers, and the Sisters, humbled, Abate the stiffness of the flesh; Nor cast Before your hungry hearers, scrupulous bones, As whither a Christian may hawk, or hunt; Or whither, Matrons, of the holy Assembly, May lay their hair out, or wear doublets, Or have that Idol Starch, about their linen. Nor shall you needs to libel against the Prelates, And shorten so your ears, against the hearing Of the next wiredrawn Grace. Nor, of necessity, Rail against plays, to please the Alderman, Whose daily Custard you devour Nor lie With zealous rage, till you are hoarse. Not one Of these so singular arts. Nor call your selves, By names of Tribulation, Persecution, Restraint, Long-Patience, and such Like, affected By the whole Family, or Wood of you, Only for glory, and to catch the ear Of the Disciple. Oh, but the Stone, all's idle to'it! nothing! The art of Angels, Nature's miracle, The divine secret, that does fly in clouds, From East to West: and whose Tradition Is not from men but spirits. Well, Ananias, thou shalt overcome. Has he a competent sum, there, i'the bag, To buy the goods, within? I am made Guardian, And must, for Charity, and Conscience sake, Now, see the most be made, for my poor Orphan. Though I desire the Brothers, too, good Gainers. There, they are, within. When you have viewed, & bought them, And taken the Inventory of what they are, They'are ready for roiection; there's no more To do; Cast on the medicine: So much Silver As there is Tin there, so much Gold as Brass, I'll give it you in, by weight. Let me see, How's the Moon, now? Eight, nine, ten days hence He will be Silver potate; then, three days, Before he citronise: some fifteen days, The Magisterium will be perfected. Yes my good Ananias. Some hundred Marks; as much as filled three Cars, Unloaded now: you shall make six millions of them. But I must ha'more coals laid in. Another load, And then we have finished. We must now increase Our fire to Ignis ardens, we are passed Fimus equinus, B lnei, Cineris, And all those lenter heats. If the holy Purse Should, with this draught, fallen low, and that the Saint Do needs a present sum; I have trick To melt the Pewter, you shall buy now, instantly, And, with a tincture, make you as good ` Dutch Dollars, As any are in Holland I, and shall bide the third examination. But you must carry it, secret It is no coining, Sir. It is but casting, There is no scruple Sir, to be made of it; believe Ananias. This case of conscience he is studied in. For that we'll talk, anon. There's some to speak with me. Go in, I pray you, And view the parcels. That's the Inventory. I'll come to you straight. Who is it? Face? Appear. How then? And have you quit him? Oh, but to have gulled him, Had been a mastery. I'll send her to thee: And but dispatch my brace of little John Leydens, And come again my self. Numbering the sum. A hundred marks, boy, Done. They are gone. The sum Is here in Banque, my Face. I would, we knew Another chapman, now, would buy them outright. Excellent well thought on, Pray God, he come. But, Face, How camest thou, by this secret Done? A Spirit Brought me th'intelligence, in a paper, here, As I was conjuring, yonder, in my Circle For Surly: I have my Flies abroad. Your Both Is famous Subtle, by my means. Sweet Doll, You must go tune your Virginal, no losing O'the least time. And, do you hear? good Actium. Firk Like a Flounder, kiss Like a Scallop, close; And tickle him with thy Mother-tongue. His great Verdugo-ship has not a jot of language: So much the easier to be cossin'd, my Dolly. He will come here, in a hired Coach, obscure, And our own Coachman, whom I have sent, as Guide, No creature else. Who's that? It i'not he? Who is't? It'll be long. And the Widow? And is he fasting? And hath cried Hum? And as oft Buz? Then, to her Cuz, Hoping, that he hath vinegard his senses, As he was bid, the Fairy Queen dispenses, By me, this Robe, the Peticoate of Fortune; Which that he straight put on, she does importune. And though to Fortune near be her Peticoate, Yet, nearer is her Smock, the Queen does note: And, therefore, even of that a piece she hath sent, Which, being a Child, to wrap him in, was rend; And prays him, for a scarf, he now will wear it (With as much love, as then her Grace did tear it) About his eyes to show, he is fortunate. And, trusting unto her to make his State, Hee'll throw away all worldly pelf, about him; Which that he will perform, she does not doubt him. Ti, ti, ti, ti, he has more yet. Titi, titi, titi, titi. They must pinch him, or he will never confess, they say. Ti ti, ti ti to ta. He dos aequiuocate, she says: Ti, ti do ti, ti ti do, ti Dam. And swears by the light, when he is blinded. What news, Dol? And, you are not ready, now? Dol, get his suit. He must not be sent back. Why lay him back a while, With some devise, Ti, ti ti, ti ti ti. Would her Grace speak with me? I come. Help Dol. Her Grace Commends her kindly to you, M r . Dapper. She, now, is set At Dinner, in her bed; and she has sent you, From her own private trencher, a dead Mouse, And a piece of Gingerbread, to be merry withal, And stay your stomach, least you faint with fasting. Yet, if you could hold out, till she saw you, she says, It would be better for you. He must nor see, nor speak To any body, till then. Of what? Where shall we now Bestow him? Come along, Sir I now must show you Fortune's privy lodgings. All. Only the Fumigation's somewhat strong. Yes. Are they gone? The Widow is come. I. Stay, Bring them in, first. I know not. What else? To door, man. Yes, and perhaps hit you through both the nostrils. Come never, my Worshipful Boy, my Terr Fili, That is, my Boy of Land; Make thy approaches: Welcome, I know thy lustest, and thy desires, And I will serve, and satisfy them. Begin. Charge me from thence, or thence, or in this line; Here is my Centre: Ground thy Quarrel. How, Child of wrath, and anger! The loud lie? For what, my so dame Boy? Oh, this's no true Grammar, And as ill Logic. You must render causes, Child, Your first, and second Intentions, know your Canons, And your Divisions, Moods, Degrees, and Differences, Your Predicaments, Substance, and Accident, Series extern, and intern, with their causes Efficient, , formal, final, And have your el ments perfect. That false precept, Of being aforehand, has deceived a number; And made them enter Quarrels, oftentimes, Before they were aware: and afterwards. Against their w lls. I cry this Lady mercy. She should, first, Have been saluted. I do call you Lady, Because you are to be one, ere't be long, My soft, and buxom Widow. Yes, or my art is and egregio is liar. By inspection, on her forehead; And subtlety of her lip, which must be tasted Often, to make a udgement God's-light, she melts Like a Myrobalane! Here is, yet, a line In frontis, tells me, he is no Knight. Let me see your Hand. Oh, your Linea F rtunae makes it plain; And , here, in Monte veneris: But, most of all, I ctura annularis. He is a Soldier, or a Man of Art, Lady: But shall have some great honour, shortly. Where is he? Why, you must entertain him. Why haue'hem up, and shew'hem Some Fustian Book, or the Dark Glass. Must, you? I, if your fortune will, you must. Come Sir, the Captain will come to us presently. I'll ha'you to my Chamber of Demonstrations, Where I'll show you both the Grammar, and Logic, And of Quarreling, my whole method, Drawn out in Tables, and my Instrument, That hath the several Scam e vpon't, shall make you Able to quarrel, at a straws breadth, by Moonlight. And, Lady, I'll have you look in a Glass, Some half and hour, but to clear your eyesight, Against you see your Fortune, which is greater, Then I may judge upon the sudden, trust me. I'll come to you presently. I have sent them up. Is that the matter? Go to If you rebel once, Dol shall know it all. Therefore, be quiet, and obey your chance. Who, cannot I? God's-blood, I will serve her with thee, for a— I will not treat with thee: what, fell my Fortune? It's better then my Birthright. Do not murmur. Win her, and carry her. If you grumble, Dol Knows it directly. I follow you Sir, we must keep Face in awe, Or he will overlook us Like a Tyrant. Brain of a Taylor! Who comes here? Done Ion Would you had stouped a little, and kissed our and S. Stab me; I shall never hold, man. He looks in that deep Ruff, Like a Head in a platter, Served in by a short Cloak upon two tressils. slud, he do's look too fat to be a Spaniard. Done, Your scurvy, yellow Madril face is welcome. He speaks, out of a Fortification. pray God, He have no squibs in those deep sets. What says he? Yes, the Casa, My precious Diego, will prove fair enough, To cossen you in. Do you mark? you shall Be cossened, Diego. Do you intend it? So do we deer Done. Have you brought Pistolets? or Portagues? My solemn Worser n? Dost thou feel any? You shall be emptied, Done; pumped, and drawn, Dry, as they say. See all the Monsters; the great Lion of all, Done. What talks he now? Oh, Done, That is the Lioness, which you shall see Also my Done. For what? That's true. Before heaven I know not: He must stay, that's all. No, Why? 'Sdeath, and Mammon Must not be troubled. What shall we do then? Who I? Why— You made me and offer for my share ever while. What wilt thou g ? God's-light. I'll not work her then. I care not. Faith, I am not fit, I am old. A plague of Hell— You are a terrible Rogue, I'll think of this: will you, Sir, call the Widow? With all my heart, Sir. Am I discharged o'the lot. Hands. Much good joy, and health to'you Sir. Marry a Whore? Fate, let me wed a Witch, first. He swears by his beard. Dispatch, and call the Brother too. How, Issue on? Yes, praesto Sennor. Please you Entratha the , worthy Done; Where if it please the F tes, in your B thada, You shall be ok'd, and stroked, and tubbed, and rubbed, And scrubbed, and fub'd, deer Done, before you go. You shall in faith, my scurvy Babjon Done; Be curried, clawed, and flawed, and tawed, indeed. I will the heartilier go about it now, And make the Widow a Punk, so much the sooner, To be revenged on this impetuous Face: The quickly doing of it is the grace. My most honoured Lady, For so I am now to style you, having found By this my scheme, you are to undergo And honourable fortune, very shortly. What will you say now, if some— Still, my scarce Worshipful Captain, you can keep No secret. Well, since he has told you, Madam, Do you forgive him, and I do Well then. Nought rests But that she fit her Love, now, to her fortune. No? Come, you must love him, or be miserable: Choose, which you will. Nay, Shads, and Mackr ll, which is worse. No my enraged Child, She will be ruled. What when she comes to taste The pleasures of a Countess, to be courted— I, behind the hangings. And know her State— Is served Upon the knee— Her six Mares— To hurry her through London, to the Exchange, Bethlehem, the China-Houses— En Gallanta Madama, Done! Gallantissima! God-save will, she must go to him, Man; and kiss him: It is the Spanish fashion, for the women To make first court. Give Dol the word. Come my fierce Child. Advance, Wee'll to our quarreling Lesson again. Nay, and by this means, Sir, You shall be Brother To a great Count. pray God your Sister prove but pliant. How! No faith Sir. Yet by erection of her Figure, I gest it. Come, let's go practice. I warrant you. What's to do How! What sighed is here? Close deeds of Darkness, and that shun the light! Bring him again. Who is he? What, my Son? Oh, I have lived too long. Not, and flee me, When I come in? Error? Gilded, gilded, my Son. Give it the right Name. No marvel, If I found check in our great Work within, When such affairs as these were managing. It has gone back this half hour: And all the rest of our less Works stand still. Where is the Instrument of wickedness, My lewd false Drudge? Will you commit more sin, Excuse a Varlet? This will hinder The Work, a Month at least. As they were, So the reward will prove. How now! Aye me. God, and all Saints be good to us. What's that? Oh the cursed fruits of vice, and lust! Hangs my roof Over us still, and will not fallen, Oh Justice, Upon us, for this wicked man! Face. Is he gone? I, as Balls, and bound And hit our heads against the roof for joy. There's so much of our care now cast away. Yes, your young Widow, by this time Is made a Countess, Face: She has been in travail Of a young Heir for you. Off with your case, And greet her kindly, as a Bridegroom should. After these common hazards. And fetch him over too, if you'll be pleased Sir: Would Dol were, in her place, to pick his pockets now. For your sake, Sir. How does my noble Diego? And my deer Madame, Countess? Hath the Count Been courteous, Lady? liberal? and open? Donzell, me thinks you look melancholic, After your Coitum, and scurvy! Truly, I do not Like the dulness of your eye: It hath a heavy cast, it's vpsee Dutch, And say's you are a lumpish Whoremaster. Be lighter, I will make your pockets so. Help, Murder. Yes Sir, he must appear, within this hour. Peace Ananias. Zeal, in the young Gentleman, Against his Spanish slops. True. But here, I cannot do it; if the House Should chance to be suspected, all would out. And we be locked up, in the Tower, for ever, To make Gold there: (for the state) never come out. And, then, are you defeated. Thanks, courteous Ananias. About casting Dollars, Presently, out of hand. And so, I told him, A Spanish Minister came here to spy Against the Faithful— I thank thee Face, for the Angry Boy, I.faith. But where's the Widow? By your favour, Face, Now she is honest, I will stand again. Why? You are tyrannous still. How Dol? Art thou in earnest? You said he would not come, While there died one a Week, within the Liberties. Was't so? Cry' you mercy: I thought the Liberties. What shall we do now, Face? Yes I'll shave you, as well as I can. You shall see, Sir. You Fool, Peace, you'll mar all. You have spoiled all then. Your Ant's a gracious Lady, but In You were to blame. I, he has spoken! And hast thou done it? Why then triumph, and sing Of Face so famous, the precious King Of present wits. Yes, and I dwindled with it. Well Sir, your Aunt her Grace, Will give you audience presently, on my suit, And the Captains word, that you did not eat your gag, In any contempt of her Highness. Here she is come. Down of your knees, and wriggle: She has a stately presence. Good. Yet nearer, And bid God save her. And your Aunt. The Skirts, And kisse'hem. So. I, much indeed. Why do you not thank her Grace? See, the kind wretch! Your Graces kinsman right. Open a vein, with a Pin, And let it suck but once a week. Till then, You must not look on't. Her Grace would have you eat no more Woolsack pies, Nor Dagger Frumenty. She's with you every where. Nor play with Costermongers at Mum-chance, Tray-trip, God make you rich (when as your Aunt has done it:) but keep The Gallantest company, and the best Games. Gleek and Primero; and what you get be true to us. You may bring's a Thousand pound, Before to morrow night, (if but three Thousand Be stirring) if you will. Your Fly will learn you all Games. Your Grace will command him no more duties? There's a kind Aunt! Kiss her departing partly. But you must fell your forty mark a year, now. Or gi't away. A pox on't. It's well, away. Here. What news? Here's your Hieronimo's cloak, and hat. And the Ruff too? Now, he is gone about his project, Dol, I told you of, for the Widow. Well, wee'll fit him, Wench. Hast thou gulled her of her Jewels, or her Bracelets? Soon at night, my Worser lly, When we are shipped, and all our goods aboard, Eastward for Ratcliffe, we will turn our course To Brainford, Westward, if thou sayest the word, And take our leaves of this overweening Rascal, This peremptory Face. Thou'hast cause, when the Slave will run a wiving, Dol, Against the instrument, that was drawn between us. Yes, tell her, She must by any means, address some present To cunning man, make him amends for wronging His Art with her suspicion, send a Ring, Or chain of Pearl, she will be tortured else Extremely in her sleep, say, and have strange things Come to her, wilt thou? My fine Flittermouse, My Bird o'the night; wee'll tickle it at the Pigeons, When we have all, and may unlock the Trunks, And say, this's mine, and thine, and thine, and mine— Yes, a little exalted In the good passage of our Stock-affairs. I will: and shave himself? The Chaplain waits you i'the hall, Sir. He cannot yet, he is not ready. Dear Dol, Cousin her of all thou canst. To deceive him Is no deceit, but Justice; that would break Such and inextricable tie as ours was. Here. Here, In this. The Fishwives rings, I think. And th'Alewiues single money. Is't not Dol? Here, i'the Trunk, And the Bolts of Lawn. Yes. No matter, Dol, because We shall not open them, before he comes. You are a precious fiend! Rogue, I'll hang my self That I may walk a greater devil, then thou, And haunt thee i'the Flock-bed, and the Buttery. Nay, then I wonder less, if you, for whom The blessing was prepared, would so tempt heaven: And lose your Fortune's. What do you say? And fasting.) Where's Drugger?