SURLY

What, and turn that too? No faith. Yes, when I see't, I will. But, if my eyes do cossen me so (and I Giuing'hem no occasion) sure, I'll have A Whore, shall pisse'hem out next day. No doubt hee'is that already. The decayed Vestal's of Pickthatch would thank you, That keep the fire alive, there. And I'll Be bound, the Players shall sing your pra ses, then, Without their Poets. As he that built the Waterwork, dos with water, Faith, I have a humour, I would not willingly be gulled. Your Stone Cannot transmute me How! Did Adam write, Sir, in high Dutch? What Paper? Oh that, indeed (they say) Will last against worms. And do'you think to have the Stone, with this? Why, I have herd, he must be Homo frugi, A pious, holy, and religious man, One free from mortal sin, a very Virgin. What a brave language here is? next to Canting? Your Cockscomb's, is to not? Oh, I looked for this. The hay is a pitching. Oh, this Ferret Is rank as any Polecat. I, are you bolted? Yes twenty, and be cossend, Do. We shall have a salad. I believe you, in that. And Dripping-pans, and Pot-hangers, and Hooks? Shall he not? To be and Ass. And little hope, Sir, But, much less charity, should I gull my self. But your whole work, no more. That, you should hatch gold in a Furnace, Sir, As they do eggs in Egypt. That cannot be. The Egg's ordained by Nature, to that end: And is a Chicken, in Potentiam. I, what is that? Pray you, Sir, stay. Rather, then I'll be brayed, Sir, I'll believe, That Alchemy is a pretty kind of Game, Somewhat Like Tricks o'the Cards, to cheat a man, With charming. What else are all your Term , Whereon no one o'your Writers grees with other? Of your Elixir, your Lac virginis, Your Stone, your Medicine, and your Chrysosperme, Your Sal, your Sulphur, and your Mercury, Your Oil of height, your Tree of life, your Blood, Your Marchesite, your Tutie, your Magnesia, Your Toad, your Crow, your Dragon, and your Panthar, Your Sun, your Moon, your Firmament, your Adrop, Your Lato, Azoch, Zernich, Chibrit, Heautarit, And then your Read man, and your white ; With all your Broathes, your M nstrues, and Materials, Of Piss, and Egge-shells, Women's terms, Men blood, Hair o'the head, burned Clouts, Chalk, Merds, and Clay, Poulder of bones, scalings of Iron, glass. And world's of other strange Ingredients, Would burst a man to name. Heart, this is a baudy-House. I'll be burned else. Be not gulled, Sir Mammon. Yes, as you are. And trust confederate Knaves, and Bawds, and Whores. Sir Epic re, Your friend to use. Yet, still, loath to be gulled. I do not Like your Phil sophicall bawds. Their Stone is lechery enough, to pay for, Without this bait And yet, you never saw her Till now? A very treacherous memory. Tut if you ha'it not about you pass it, Till we meet next. Heart! Can it be, That a graven Sir, a rich, that has no needs, A wise Sir, too, at other times should thus With his own oaths, and arguments, make hard means To gull himself? And, this be your Elixir, Your Lapis M neralis, and your Lunary, Give me your honest trick, yet, at Primero, Or Gleek; and take your Lutum sapientis, Your Menstruum simplex: I'll have Gold, before you, And, with less danger of the Quicksilver; Or the hight Sulphur. Sir, I will. But, by Attorney, and to a second purpose. Now, I am sure, it is a Bawdyhouse; I'll swear it, were the Marshal here, to thankeme. The naming this Commander, does confirm it. Done Face! Why, h'is the most authentic dealer I'these Commodities! The Superintendent To all the queinter Traffickers, in town. He is their Visiter, and do's appoint Who lies with whom; and at what hour; what price; Which gown; and in what smock; what fallen; what tire. Him will I prove, by a third person, to find The subtleties of this dark Labyrinth: Which, if I do discover, deer, Sir Mammon, You'll give your poor Friend leave, though no Philosopher, To laugh: for you that are, it's thought, shall weep. I will not, Sir. Sir Epicure, I shall leave you. Peuter, and Brass, Andirons, and Kitchen beware, Metals, that we must use our medicine on: Wherein the Brothers may have a penn'orth. For ready money. Sennores, beso las manos, à vuestras mercedes. Gratiam. Por dios, Sennores, muy lindam Casa! Ent endo. Con licencia, see puede for à esta Sennorà? Entiendo, que la Sennora es tan her mosa, Q tan à for la, common la bien de mi vida, , p r que see tàrdatànta? Puede, sir, de haz r burla de miamor. Por estas barbas. Tiengo dùd , Sennores, Que no me hágan algunatraycion. Que es èsto See oars, que non seven Gam? Esta tardanza me mata! Por todos los dioses, la mass acabada Hermosùra, que he visto en mivìda! El Solha perdido sum lumbre, con el Resplandor, que tràe esta dama. Valga me dio ! Por que no see acùde? Por el amor de dios, que es esto, que see tàrda? Sennora mia, mi personam muy indignaesta All gar àtànta Hermosura. Sennora, si sera seruida, entremus. And for these Household-rogues, let me alone. To treat with them. Will you, Done Baud, and Pickpurse? How now? Reel you? Stand up Sir, you shall find since I am so heavy, I'll give you aequal weight. No Sir. There's no such thing intended. A good Cart, And a clean Whip shall ease you of that fear. I am the Spanish Done, that should be cossened, Do you see? cossened. Where's your Captain Face? That parcel-broker, and whole-bawd, all Rascal. Oh, make your approach, good Captain. I'haue found, from whence your Copper Rings, and Spoons Come now, wherewith you cheat abroad in Taverns. 'Twas here, you learned to anoint your boot with Brimstone, Then rub men's Gold on't, for a kind of touch, And say 'twas nought, when you had changed the colour, That you might have't for nothing. And this Doctor, Your sooty, smoky-bearded Compear, He Will close you so much Gold, in a Bolthead, And, on a turn, convey (i'the stead) another With sublimed Mercury, that shall burst in he heat, And fly out all in fumo. Then weeps Mammon. Then swoons his Worship. Or he is the Faustus, That casts figures, and can conjure, cures Plague, Piles, and Pox, by the Ephemerides, And holds intelligence, with all the Bawds, And Midwives of three Shires. While you send in— Captain, (what is he gone?) Dam'sells with child, Wives, that are barren, or, the waiting-maid With the Greensickness. Nay Sir, you must tarry Though he be scaped; and answer, by the ears, Sir. I should be loath, Sir, To confess so much. How? Sir you are abused. You are indeed. Will you hear me, Sir? This's strange! Lady, do you inform your Brother. Sir, all is truth, she says. You are valiant out of Company. Hydra of villainy! Why this is madness, Sir, Not valour in you: I must laugh at this. You'll hear me Sir? New Rascals! I must give way. But isle take A course with you— Captain, and Doctor. The happy word, Be rich — Should be to day pronounced, to all your friends. And where be your Andirons now? And your Brass Pots? That should ha'beene Golden Flaggons, and great Wedges? I, now, it's Holiday with them. Your word, Groom arrogant? This's a new Face! You Rascal. This is one OF the Confederacy. Come let's get Officers! And force the door. No, Sir, wee'll come with warrant. Down with the door. And my Captain Face? That are Birding in men's purses. And the Captain Pandar. How! Have I lost her then? Must I needs cheat my self, With that same foolish vice of Honesty! Come let us go, and Harken out the Rogues. That Face I'll mark for mine, if ere I meet him. If I should?