The Alchemist

Subtle

What to do? Lick figs Out at my⁠—

Face

Rogue, rogue!⁠—out of all your sleights.

Dol Common

Nay, look ye, sovereign, general, are you madmen?

Subtle

O, let the wild sheep loose. I’ll gum your silks With good strong water, an you come.

Dol Common

Will you have The neighbours hear you? Will you betray all? Hark! I hear somebody.

Face

Sirrah⁠—

Subtle

I shall mar All that the tailor has made, if you approach.

Face

You most notorious whelp, you insolent slave, Dare you do this?

Subtle

Yes, faith; yes, faith.

Face

Why, who Am I, my mongrel? Who am I?

Subtle

I’ll tell you, Since you know not yourself.

Face

Speak lower, rogue.

Subtle

Yes, you were once (time’s not long past) the good, Honest, plain, livery-three-pound-thrum, that kept Your master’s worship’s house here in the Friars, For the vacations⁠—

Face

Will you be so loud?

Subtle

Since, by my means, translated Suburb-Captain.

Face

By your means, Doctor Dog!

Subtle

Within man’s memory, All this I speak of.

Face

Why, I pray you, have I Been countenanced by you, or you by me? Do but collect, sir, where I met you first.

Subtle

I do not hear well.

Face

Not of this, I think it. But I shall put you in mind, sir;⁠—at Pie-corner, Taking your meal of steam in, from cooks’ stalls, Where, like the father of hunger, you did walk Piteously costive, with your pinched-horn-nose, And your complexion of the Roman wash, Stuck full of black and melancholic worms, Like powder corns shot at the artillery-yard.

Subtle

I wish you could advance your voice a little.

’Fore God, my intelligence Costs me more money, than my share oft comes to, In these rare works.

Subtle

You are pleasant, sir.

Reenter Dol.

—How now! What says my dainty Dolkin?

Dol Common

Yonder fishwife Will not away. And there’s your giantess, The bawd of Lambeth.

Subtle

Heart, I cannot speak with them.

Dol Common

Not afore night, I have told them in a voice, Thorough the trunk, like one of your familiars. But I have spied sir Epicure Mammon⁠—

Subtle

Where?

Dol Common

Coming along, at far end of the lane, Slow of his feet, but earnest of his tongue To one that’s with him.

Subtle

Face, go you and shift.

Exit Face.

Dol, you must presently make ready, too.

Dol Common

Why, what’s the matter?

Subtle

O, I did look for him With the sun’s rising: ’marvel 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. And now he’s dealing pieces on’t away.⁠— Methinks I see him entering ordinaries, Dispensing for the pox, and plaguey houses, Reaching his dose, walking Moorfields for lepers, And offering citizens’ wives pomander-bracelets, As his preservative, made of the elixir; Searching the spittal, to make old bawds young; And the highways, for beggars, to make rich. I see no end of his labours.

Come on, sir. Now, you set your foot on shore In Novo Orbe; here’s the rich Peru: And there within, sir, are the golden mines, Great Solomon’s Ophir! He was sailing to’t, Three years, but we have reached it in ten months. This is the day, wherein, to all my friends, I will pronounce the happy word, Be Rich; This day you shall be spectatissimi. You shall no more deal with the hollow dye, Or the frail card. No more be at charge of keeping The livery-punk for the young heir, that must Seal, at all hours, in his shirt: no more, If he deny, have him beaten to’t, as he is That brings him the commodity. No more Shall thirst of satin, or the covetous hunger Of velvet entrails for a rude-spun cloak, To be displayed at Madam Augusta’s, make The sons of Sword and Hazard fall before The golden calf, and on their knees, whole nights Commit idolatry with wine and trumpets: Or go a feasting after drum and ensign. No more of this. You shall start up young viceroys, And have your punks, and punketees, my Surly. And unto thee I speak it first, Be Rich. Where is my Subtle, there? Within, ho!

Face

Within. Sir, He’ll come to you by and by.

Sir Epicure Mammon

Sir Epicure Mammon

I will have all my beds blown up, not stuffed; Down is too hard: and then, mine oval room Filled with such pictures as Tiberius took From Elephantis, and dull Aretine But coldly imitated. Then, my glasses Cut in more subtle angles, to disperse And multiply the figures, as I walk Naked between my succubae. My mists I’ll have of perfume, vapoured ’bout the room, To lose ourselves in; and my baths, like pits To fall into; from whence we will come forth, And roll us dry in gossamer and roses.⁠— Is it arrived at ruby?⁠—Where I spy A wealthy citizen, or [a] rich lawyer, Have a sublimed pure wife, unto that fellow I’ll send a thousand pound to be my cuckold.

Then, to her cuz, Hoping that he hath vinegared his senses, As he was bid, the Fairy Queen dispenses, By me, this robe, the petticoat of fortune; Which that he straight put on, she doth importune. And though to fortune near be her petticoat, Yet nearer is her smock, the Queen doth note: And therefore, ev’n of that a piece she hath sent Which, being a child, to wrap him in was rent; 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. They blind him with the rag. And, trusting unto her to make his state, He’ll throw away all worldly pelf about him; Which that he will perform, she doth not doubt him.

Face

She need not doubt him, sir. Alas, he has nothing, But what he will part withal as willingly, Upon her Grace’s word⁠—throw away your purse⁠— As she would ask it;⁠—handkerchiefs and all⁠— He throws away, as they bid him. She cannot bid that thing, but he’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.

Dapper

Truly, there’s all.

Face

All what?

Dapper

My money; truly.

Face

Keep nothing that is transitory about you. Aside to Subtle. Bid Dol play music.⁠— Dol plays on the cittern within. Look, the elves are come. To pinch you, if you tell not truth. Advise you.