€&e y&t\U$z%ztttt$ £>ttic$ SECTION III THE ENGLISH DRAMA FROM ITS BEGINNING TO THE PRESENT DAY GENERAL EDITOR GEORGE PIERCE BAKER, A. B. ASSISTANT PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY EASTWARD HOE BY JONSON, CHAPMAN AND MARSTON JONSON'S THE ALCHEMIST EDITED BY FELIX E. SCHELLING, Litt. D. PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE IN THE UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA BOSTON, U. S. A. AND LONDON D. C. HEATH AND COMPANY PUBLISHERS COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY D. C. HEATH & CO. Printed in United States of America ! JLffC Ben Jonson was born at Westminster in the year 1573. He was "poorly brought up," but by the assistance of the antiquary, William Camden, attended Westminster School. Jonson seems not to have gone to either uni- versity, although he later received degrees from both Ox- ford and Cambridge. After a short term at his step- father's trade, bricklaying, Jonson went to Flanders as a soldier. He returned to London about 1592 and married, beginning to write for the stage probably in 1595. In 1597 Jonson was in the employ of Henslowe, and one of the Admiral's players ; and in the following year he was mentioned by Meres, in his Palladis Tamia, as one of the best contemporary writers of tragedy. In that year Jonson killed a fellow-actor, one Gabriel Spenser, "in duel," for which he was tried and found guilty. He escaped the gallows by pleading the bene- fit of clergy. While in prison Jonson became a Roman Catholic, but returned to the faith of the Church of England twelve years later. Thrown out of the Ad- miral's company for his misdeed, Jonson offered their rival, the Lord Chamberlain's company (in which Shake- speare was already a prominent shareholder), his Every Man In His Humour, which was accepted, and proved in 1598 an immediate success, Shakespeare acting apart. The Case is Altered, a comedy never acknowledged by Jonson, appears to belong to this year. From 1599 to 1602 Jonson directed his efforts towards dramatic satire, and wrote Every Man Out Of His Humour, acted by the Chamberlain's men in 1599, Cynthia" s Revels, 1600, vi ilife and Poetaster, 1601, both for the children of the Queen's Chapel. From these contributions to the war of the theaters, in which Marston was the chief butt of his ridi- cule, Jonson turned to tragedy. Sejanus was acted by the Chamberlain's men in 1603, Shakespeare once more talcing a part. This tragedy was a failure on the stage, though much admired by "the judicious." At this time Jonson was living with Lord D'Aubigny, one of his many friends and patrons among the nobility. Upon the accession of King James in 1603, Jonson wrote an entertainment for the King at Althorp, and a second, with Dekker, for the royal progress through the city. In 1605 The Masque of Blackness, the first of Jonson' s long and splendid series of masques at court, was performed, Inigo Jones furnishing the scenery. In this year Jonson with his friend Chapman suffered a short imprisonment for certain reflections on the Scots in the comedy, Eastward Hoe, which they had written with John Marston. But the same year witnessed the tri- umphant success of Jonson 1 s Volpone, which was acted at the Globe and at the two universities. During the next twelve years Jonson enjoyed his greatest repute, the recognised Mentor as well as boon companion of poets and playwrights, the friend of the nobility, and wel- comed at court. Between 1605 and 16 14 Epicoene, 1609, The Alchemist, 1610, Catiline, 161 1, and Bar- tholomew Fair, 1 6 1 4, were produced ; and each, a mas- terpiece in its kind, added to Jonson'' s dramatic laurels. In 161 3 Jonson was tutor to the son of Raleigh, and visited France. In 161 6 he published a folio edition of his works, and wrote his satirical comedy, The Devil is an Ass. In 161 8 Jonson set out on foot for Scotland, visiting his many friends by the way, and staying some weeks with the Scottish poet, Drummond of Hawthorn- den, near Edinburgh, in which city Jonson was honored ilife vii by being made a burgess. Returning to London in the following year, Jonson visited Oxford, and formally re- ceived the degree of M. A. Meanwhile the poet's pen was far from idle, and he continued to entertain the court with masques and entertainments almost yearly throughout the reign of James. A few of the most noted of these productions (thirty-four complete) are Hymenaei, 1606; The Masque of Queens, 1609; Love Freed from Ignorance and Folly, 161 1 ; and the grotesque Metamorphosed Gypsies, 1621, most popular in its day. In October of this year, Jonson was granted a reversion of the office of Master of the Revels, after the death of Sir George Buc and Sir John Astley ; but the latter sur- vived him. At this period James is said to have medi- tated knighting Jonson. Failing to do this, he raised his pension to ^200. In 1623 Jonson's library, one of the best in England, was destroyed by fire ; and in it, to judge by the author's verses, An Execration against Vulcan, perished many manuscripts, especially those dis- playing the scholarly side of the great poet. In this year Jonson contributed his appreciative poem, To the Mem- ory of my Beloved, the Author, Mr. William Shakespeare and what he hath left us, to the folio edition of Shake- speare's works. With the coming to the throne of King Charles, Jonson lost his hold on the court, and, attacked with the dropsy and the palsy, spent some of the later years of his life bedridden. He returned to the popular stage in The Staple of News, in 1625, perhaps under the pressure of poverty ; and in 1629 experienced his severest theatrical reverse in The Neals. Subtle and-H olI. "arret yet in the end he escapes punishment and is 1 Prologue to Every Man In His Humour. ifintroDuction xxiii given all, fur his clever ness . Here the tricky, unprin- cipled slave or parasite, who serves as the motive force "in so many"ofTrTe~co'inedies of Pla'lUus' arid TerenciTTs responsible for this lapse in the ethics of the Eliza- bethan dramatist. Under the influence of the consummate artistry of Jonson the comedy of manners received a classical trend which deeply affected the drama in Jonson' s own day and modified the course of its subsequent development. Jonson' s theories were from the first those of the classicist. He believed in the criticism of Horace and in the rhetoric of Quintilian; 1 in the sanction of clas- sical usage for history, oratory and poetry. He be- lieved that English drama should follow the example of Greek tragedy and the practices of the vetus comoe- dia. % And he reprobated the improbabilities, the leaps in time and the changes of scene, in which the popular dramas of the day abounded. 8 In the fragment of Mortimer, as well as in Catiline, Jonson preserved the ancient chorus; and he struggled for unity of time to the serious detriment of probability in Volpone* to reach both the unity of time and of place in their per- fection in The Alchemist, , 5 But the reader must be 1 See the several passages translated from Quintilian in Jonson's prose tract, Discoveries ,• and the weight given to the theories of Horace in the same book. 2 Prologue to E-very Man Out of His Humour. 8 See his strictures in the Prologue to E-very Man In His Hu- mour. * Cf. Professor Lounsbury on this topic, Shakespeare as a Dra- matic Artist, 1 90 1, p. 85. 6 See Note, p. 166. xxiv ^Introduction reminded that Jonson was no supine classicist, content indiscriminately to praise all practices, were they but Greek or Roman, and to bewail the Gothic barbarism into which the world had fallen since the death of Seneca. On the contrary, Jonson asserted in theory and confirmed in his practice " the same licence, or free power to illustrate and heighten our invention," — to use his own words — which he affirmed that the ancients had always enjoyed. 1 When Jonson followed the classics he followed them faithfully, as in Catiline and The Alchemist. Dispensing with their guidance at other times, Jonson went his own way, as in his masques and later plays. When Jonson wrote an ode, he studied Pindar; when he penned a satire or an epi- gram, he remembered Juvenal and Martial. There was to Jonson an orthodox and professional way of doing recognized things, but this did not in the least preclude his exercise of his originality and his recog- nition that every rule of classical art must ultimately be tested by its applicability to contemporary con- ditions. Jonson might have written the well known words of Matthew Arnold to define his position to his time. " In the sincere endeavor to learn and practice amid the bewildering confusion of our times what is sound and true in poetical art, I seemed to myself to find the only sure guidance, the only solid footing among the ancients. They, at any rate, knew what they wanted in art, and we do not." 2 Thus in the practice of comedy Jonson began in the 1 Prologue to Every Man Out of His Humour. 2 Poems of Matthezv Arnold, Preface to the edition of 1854. JlntroDuctton xxv leading strings of Plautus, and developed the remarkable dramatic satires which he contributed to the war of the theaters from a powerful application of moral ideas to his new comedy of humors. In Eastward Hoe he seems to have emerged from the period in which the over-elaboration of his faculties of analysis and satirical invective impaired his art. How far Jonson's associa- tion with his fellow playwrights may have influenced this clarification of method and style it would be diffi- cult to say. In Vol-pone, from its hypothetical basis and departure from real life, Jonson stepped back from truly realistic art into the moralist's caricature of vice. In Epicoe?ie he substituted colossal folly and ingenious situ- ation, for actualities and wrought a successful tour de force. Lastly, in The Alchemist we have a frank return t o realjty, the mor alist subordinated to the s atirist, the satir ist serving the artist, and the artist reconciling in perfect equipoise the claims of a ction, plot and character. Shakespeare marks the height to which the drama ot the age attained. Jonson exercised the more potent in- fluence on what came after. Jonson's personal associa- tions touch almost every notable name, in literature, in courtly and public life, from the last few years of Eliza- beth far into the reign of King Charles. Camden had educated him, Bacon encouraged him, Selden was his intimate friend. He was esteemed and patronized by King James and by many of his nobility. A strong and enduring friendship subsisted between Jonson and Shake- speare, who had acted in some of Jonson's earlier plays. And it is agreeable to believe the tradition which re- lates that Jonson owed his first dramatic success to the xxvi 31ntroDuctton discernment and encouragement of the master - poet. Nor was Jonson's influence on the drama of his day less than we might expect from a man of such association and of so commanding a personality. The association of Jonson, Chapman and Marston was one of kindred spirits. It is not impossible that Jonson received his training in the school of Plautus and Terence through the example if not at the hands of Chapman. Both men were deeply read in classical literature, and imbued with the spirit of ancient learning to a remarkable de- gree considering the counter trend of their age. Mar- ston, from his partly Italian extraction, had in him a romantic strain which neither of the others shows, but Marston too was a "classic," if not in his tragedy of Sophonisba, in his satires ; and he is closely allied to Jonson in a certain sardonic humor, in his attitude of arrogance towards the public and in the conscious effort of his art. There can be no question that Marston owes much in his plays to the immediate example of Jonson. As much can not be said for Dekker and Chettle with whom alone, besides, Jonson collaborated in two plays now no longer extant. For in none of the existing plays of these two authors can a trace of the influence of Jonson be discerned, if we except Dekker's Satiro- Mastix, an avowed retort to Jonson's Poetaster, imi- tating and parodying, as it does in places, Jonsonian situations, personages and phraseology. In a consideration of the influence of Jonson on the drama of his time it is important to remember that he never enjoyed a steady and continuous success with the public. His arrogant disregard for the verdict of the iflntro&uctton xxvii vulgar, his preconceptions as to the practice of the dra- matic art and, at times, the too apparent moral purpose of some of his plays precluded the possibility of this. Jonson's successes on the popular stage — and he was far from without them — were won by sheer force of genius and snatched at times from unwilling auditors. Moreover the whole spirit of the contemporary drama, its carelessness and ease, its amateurishness, its negli- gent construction, its borrowings and pilferings, were alien to the practice of his art, the first demands of which were originality of design, conscious literary con- sistency and a professional touch leading at times to man- nerism. Hence we must look for general rather than specific effects of the art of Jonson on his immediate contemporaries and expect to find the close following that marks a disciple only in the younger dramatic "sons of Ben." None the less Jonson stood in the actual relation of master to two of the minor dramatists of his day. The first of these was Nathaniel Field, who had been kidnapped as a boy and taught the trade of actor, as was but too frequently the case, at the point of the rod. 1 Field acted in Cynthia' s Revels ; and Jon- son, no doubt moved by compassion for a child de- prived of home and schooling, read Horace and Mar- tial to him and taught him to make plays. Field profited by this instruction and composed several comedies, two of which remain extant 2 to attest his master's method in their ease and cleverness of plot, their pervading satiric 1 Fleay, History of the London Stage, 1 890, pp. 126 ff. 2 Woman is a Weathercock and Amends for Ladies, in Nero and Other Plays, Mermaid Series, ed. A. W. Verity, 1888. xxviii 31ntroimctioiT humor and their " vigorous and eccentric characteriza- tion." * The other playwright who claimed Jonson for his immediate master was Richard Brome, sometime the great poet's servant. Brome caught much of Jon- son's self-consciousness, which he mingled at times amusingly with the diffidence befitting his former sta- tion in life. Brome learned all that a man of conscien- tiousness and unremitting industry, working on a meagre education and without genuine literary instinct, could be expected to learn ; in fine, Brome caught the Jon- sonian manner in its coarser outlines, without its in- forming spirit of poetry and without its scholarly dis- tinction. Among the free and untamed Elizabethan spirits, his earlier companions, Jonson' s influence was far less marked and consisted more in the ideal of restraint, of considerate workmanship, and constructive originality which he set up before them. It can not be denied that men of such adaptable genius as Beaumont, Fletcher, and Middleton with their successors, Massinger and Shirley, owed something to Jonson especially in the conception and conduct of the comedy of manners. But these men were too great and their sympathy with the romantic spirit of their age was too close to admit of their falling much within the influence of Jonson's orbit. The similarity of the blank verse of Beaumont to that of Jonson, in its sinew and restraint, has been often remarked ; but in this respect, perhaps less than in any other, was Jonson influential in the drama of his time : for the tendency in dramatic blank verse was 1 Woman is a Weathercock, etc., Mermaid Series, p. 336. 3|ntro&uction xxix towards a relaxed and fluent structure, and comedy showed an increasing preference for prose. In the char- acter of its verse, in its antithetical wit and controlled style, in its ideals of poetry, drama and criticism, it was reserved for the age of Dryden to realize to the full the classical ideals which Jonson had championed in times yet stimulated with the strong wine of the Renaissance. 1 It was in his later days, those of the Apollo Room of the Devil Tavern as contrasted with the earlier times of the Mermaid, that Jonson wielded his greatest lit- erary influence. There, as his namesake Doctor Samuel Johnson later expressed it, "seated on the throne of earthly felicity," the surrounding walls blazoned with his mild and judicious leges conviviales, Jonson held his literary court and ruled his not too turbulent Bohemia, circled by the wits, the poets and many a choice spirit among the young nobility of the day. Jonson 's in- fluence on the literature of the reign of King Charles was exerted more through his poetry and his masques and less through his later dramas, which reverted to an intrusive moral purpose and hardened at times — as in The Magnetic Lady — into mere allegory. Notwith- standing, several of the younger "sons of Ben " at- tempted the drama as well as the lyric and the occa- sional verse of their master. And although the pastoral and pseudo-romantic spirit that led directly to the he- roic plays of the Restoration was strong upon them in 1 See the present editor's Ben Jotison and the Classical School, Publications of the Modern Language Association, 1898, XIII. No. 2. xxx introduction tragedy and "romance," when these dramatists wrote comedies they turned instinctively to the man who had adapted Roman comedy to English conditions and who, according to the ideals of their classical education, had achieved the most perfect literary drama which England had produced. Not only is life conceived in general, in these comedies of the later gentlemen playwrights, as Jonson conceived life ; but at times his personages and situations, even the turn and trick of his phrase, are adopted, for the most part under sufficiently changed conditions to preclude any charge of plagiarism, but so as to leave the student of Jonson in no uncertainty as to their paternity. But if the young wits could admire him, few could follow in its details Jonson' s difficult and studious art. In The Muses' Looking Glass, which Jonson might have seen on the stage two years before his death in 1637, Thomas Randolph essayed a satir- ical portraiture of the Puritan in much the Jonsonian manner. But Randolph, brilliant and witty though he was, failed fully to catch the Jonsonian spirit of comedy. In his Ordinary, William Cartwright attempted the portrayal of a group of rascals and sharpers such as Jon- son so often delights in ; but the picture is gross and the plot a cobweb. Cartwright was too purely aca- demic, moreover, to have learned to know his London as Jonson knew it. May's City Match is extravagant and farcical like Epicoene : but the sense of farce and extravagance is never lost, for the dramatic logic of Jon- son was beyond May's sounding. Marmion's A Fine Companion, although including a shadow of Captain Bobadil, is undramatic, if well written. As to the pre- 3Introtiuctton xxxi Restoration comedy of Davenant, it smacks more of Middleton than of Jonson. The influence of Jonson on his age, when all has been said, was an influence of restraint ; and never were there wilder steeds than those that drew the gorgeous, glittering car of Elizabethan romantic drama. It was Jonson that reclaimed the drama from amateurishness and insisted on its serious function as an art existing for more than idle diversion. 'It was Jonson that set a standard of literary excellence, not recognized before his time ; and assumed in so doing an attitude of inde- pendence towards the public. Jonson developed the masque and devised a species of Roman tragedy con- ceived historically and freed alike from the restrictions of Senecan models and the improbabilities of romantic treatment. Most important of all, Jonson added the c omedy of manners or humors, as he called it, to the forms of the English drama. It was this satirically h eightened pictu re of contemporary life handled w ith""1T restraint and finish ultimately traceable to classical ex- ample that survived on the stage after the Restoration in the comedies of Davenant, Dryden, Etheredge and Vanbrugh. In a word Jonson gave to the later drama one of its two permanent types. THE TEXT Three quarto versions of Eastward Hoe appeared in 1605, all "printed for William Aspley " and showing title-pages practi- cally identical. Only the first quarto contains the passage against the Scotch which cast two of the authors into prison. Really, however, (see Notes) there are but two editions of Eastward Hoe : Ql and Qz constituting the editio princeps ; Q3 the second. The first edition, as exhibited in Qz, has been followed, save where otherwise noted ; all variants other than obvious misprints or mere variations in spelling are given ; and the omitted passage and neces- sary collation have been supplied from a copy of Q I in the South Kensington Museum. The punctuation, probably Aspley's, and not Marston's, Chapman's, or Jonson's, has been modernized. In designating speakers, in order to avoid the confusions of the quartos, the whole name, in modern form, is given for the first speech, an abbreviation thereafter. Any addition to the stage directions of Qz is in brackets ; substitutions for old directions are in brackets and the former reading is given among the variants. As an aid in dis- tinguishing the quartos, even the misprints of Qz are noted among the variants. EASTWARD HOE. As It was playdin the c Black < >frieru By The Children of her Maiefties Reuefe? {JMxitby. Cbo:Chapkah. Ben-Ion$oh. Iok:Marstom. AT LONDON Printed for WittUm zAftlg. l 6 o y. SOURCES OF EASTWARD HOE The seekers after sources find no immediate model for Eastward Hoe. For the ultimate source of the underlying idea of Eastivard Hoe we must look to the parable of the prodigal son, a favorite theme with the continental humanists of the Renaissance, and from them directly transferred into the earlier English drama. Aside from Palsgrave's translation of Acolastus, which was employed as a Latin school-book as early as the reign of Henry VIII, this theme enters into The Nice Wanton, an interlude of the succeeding reign, into Misogonus, which has been variously dated between 1537 and 1560, and into Ingeland's Disobedient Child, which belongs close to the latter date. This parable reached an elaboration of form, not surpassed in the play before us, in Gascoigne's excellent school drama, The Glasse of Government, 1 575. Were we seeking par- allels — a search too easily made to assume more than its actual importance — we could find in Gascoigne's play " hints and sug- gestions " to satisfy a delicately adjusted sense for the eternal like- ness of things. Chief among them is the circumstance that in both plays the idle boy is tried for his misdemeanors before the industrious lad, now become a magistrate. On the other hand, the authors of Eastivard Hoe have lightened their play of all the old didactic fur- niture and transformed a disquisition on morality in dramatic form into a vivacious comedy of manners. [DRAMATIS PERSON^ 1 Touchstone, a goldsmith. Quicksilver, ) . „, >- y apprentices to Touchstone. CtOLDING, j ' r Sir Petronel Flash, a shifty knight. Security, an old usurer. Bramble, a lawyer. Seagull, a sea captain. SCAPETHRIFT, ) , . , , , ... . . o y adventurers bound for Virginia. Slitgut, a butcher's apprentice. Poldavy, a tailor. Holdfast, ) a- c , ,-, TTr } officers or the Counter. Wolf, j Hamlet, a footman. Potkin, a tankard-bearer. Toby, a prisoner. 3 Drawer. Mistress Touchstone. Gertrude, ) , , , „ . , \ her daughters. Mildred, j & Winifred, wife of Security. Sindefy, mistress to Quicksilver. Bettrice, a waiting-woman. Mrs. Ford, Mrs. Gazer, Coachman, Page, Con- stable, Prisoners, etc. Scene. — London and Thames-Side.] 1 Supplied by Bullen. 2 Added to Bullen's list. PROLOGUS Not out of envy, for thers no effect Where there's no cause ; nor out of imitation, For we have evermore bin imitated; Nor out of our contention to doe better Then that which is opposde to ours in title, For that was good ; and better cannot be : And for the title, if it seeme affected, We might as well have calde it, " God you good even" Onely that east-ward west-wards still exceedes, — Honour the sunnes faire rising, not his setting. Nor is our title utterly enforste, As by the points we touch at you shall see. Beare with our willing paines, if dull or witty ; We onely dedicate it to the Citty. CagttoarD J^oe Actus primus. Scena prima. [Goldsmiths' Row.~\ Enter Maister Touch-stone and Quicksilver at sever all dores ; Quicksilver with his hat, pumps, short sword and dagger, and a racket trussed up under his cloake. At the middle dore, enter Golding, discovering a goldsmiths shoppe, and walking short turns before it. Touchstone. And whether with you now ? what loose action are you bound for ? Come, what comrades are you to meete withall ? whers the supper? whers the randevous ? Quicksilver. Indeed, and in very good sober truth, sir Touch. u Indeed, and in very good sober truth, sir! " Behinde my backe thou wilt sweare faster then a French foot boy, and talke more baud- ily then a common midwife ; and now " in- deed, and in very good sober truth, sir ! " but if a privie search should be made, with what furniture Primus, Qq. primi. 6 CasttoarD J^oe [act i. are you riggd now ? Sirrah, I tell thee, I am thy maister, William Tutchstone, goldsmith ; and thou my prentise, Francis Quick-silver, and I will 15 see whether you are running. Worke upon that now. ®)uick. Why, sir, I hope a man may use his recreation with his maisters profit. Touch. Prentises recreations are seldome with 20 their maisters profit. Worke upon that now. You shall give up your cloake, tho you be no alderman. Heyday ! RufHns Hall ! Sword, pumps, heers a racket indeed ! Touchstone uncloakes Quicksilver. £htick. JVorke upon that now. 2 . Touch. Thou shamelesse varlet ! dost thou jest at thy lawfull maister, contrary to thy in- dentures ? ®)uick. Why zblood, sir! my mother's a gen- tle-woman, and my father a justice of peace and 30 of quorum; and tho I am a yonger brother and a prentise, yet I hope I am my fathers Sonne ; and by Gods lidde, tis for your worship and for your commoditie that I keepe companie. I am intertaind among gallants, true; they call me 35 coozen Franke, right ; I lend them monies, good ; they spend it, well. But when they are spent, must not they strive to get more, must not their land flye ? and to whom ? Shall not your wor- Scene I] (tettDatf) 1)00 7 ship ha the refusall ? Well, I am a good mem- 4° ber of the citty, if I were well considered. How would merchants thrive, if gentlemen would not be unthriftes ? How could gentlemen be unthrifts if their humours were not fed ? How should their humours be fedde but by whit-meate, and 45 cunning secondings ? Well, the cittie might consider us. I am going to an ordinary now : the gallants fall to play ; I carry light golde with me ; the gallants call, " Coozen PVancke, some golde for silver ; " I change, gaine by it ; the 5° gallants loose the gold, and then call, " Coozen Francke, lend me some silver." Why Touch. Why? I cannot tell. Seven score pound art thou out in the cash ; but looke to it, I will not be gallanted out of my monies. And 55 as for my rising by other mens fall, God shield me ! Did I gaine my wealth by ordinaries ? no : by exchanging of gold ? no : by keeping of gal- lants company ? no. I hired me a little shop, fought low, tooke small gaine, kept no debt 60 booke, garnished my shop, for want of plate, with good wholesome thriftie sentences; as, Touchstone, keepe thy shopp, and thy shoppe will keepe thee ; Light gaines makes heavy purses ; Tis good to be merry and ivise. And when I 65 was wiv'd, having something to stick too,-I had the home of suretiship ever before my eyes. 8 easttoarD Jjoe [act i. You all know the devise of the home, where the young fellow slippes in at the butte end, and comes squesd out at the buckall : and I grew up, 70 and I praise Providence, I beare my browes now as high as the best of my neighbours : but thou well, looke to the accounts; your fathers bond lyes for you : seven score pound is yet in the reere. 75 £)uick. Why slid, sir, I have as good, as pro- per gallants wordes for it as any are in London — gentlemen of good phrase, perfect language, passingly behav'd ; gallants that weare socks and cleane linnen, and call me " kinde coozen 80 Francke," " good coozen Francke," for they know my father : and, by Gods lidde shall I not trust 'hem ? — not trust ? Enter a Page, as inquiring for Touch-stones shoppe. Golding. What doe yee lacke, sir ? What ist you'le buye, sir ? 85 Touch. I, marry sir ; there's a youth of another peece. There's thy fellowe-prentise, as good a gentleman borne as thou art : nay, and better mean'd. But dos he pumpe it, or racket it ? Well, if he thrive not, if he out-last not a hun- 90 dred such crackling bavins as thou art, God and men neglect industrie. Scene I] (totfojatf) fl?0e 9 Gold. It is his shop, and here my M [aister] walkes. To the Page. Touch. With me, boy ? Page. My Maister, Sir Petronel Flash, re- 95 commends his love to you, and will instantly visite you. Touch. To make up the match with my eld- est daughter, my wives dilling, whom she longs to call maddam. He shall finde me unwillingly ioo readie, boy. Exit Page. Ther's another affliction too. As I have two prentises, the one of a boundlesse prodigalitie, the other of a most hopefull industrie, so have I onely two daughters: the eldest, of a proud 105 ambition and nice wantonnesse ; the other, of a modest humilitie and comely sobernesse. The one must bee ladyfied, forsooth, and be attir'd just to the court-cut and long tayle. So farre is she ill naturde to the place and meanes of my no preferment and fortune, that shee throwes all the contempt and dispight hatred it selfe can cast upon it. Well, a peece of land she has ; 'twas her grandmothers gift ; let her, and her Sir Pe- tronel, flash out that; but as for my substance, 115 shee that skornes mee, as I am a citizen and trades-man, shall never pamper her pride with my 113 'twas, Q2 t'was. io CastfcoarD J?oe [acti. Industrie ; shall never use me as men doe foxes, keepe themselves warme in the skinne, and throwe the body that bare it to the dung-hill. 120 I must goe intertaine this Sir Petronell. Gould- ing, my utmost care's for thee, and onely trust in thee ; looke to the shoppe. As for you, Maister Quick-silver, thinke of huskes, for thy course is running directly to the prodigalls hogs trough 5125 huskes, sra ! IVorke upon that now. Exit Touch\_stone~\. Hjhiick. Mary fough, goodman flat-cap ! sfoot ! tho I am a prentise, I can give armes ; and my fa- ther's a justice a peace by discent, and zbloud Gold. Fye, how you sweare ! 130 £>uick. Sfoote, man, I am a gentleman, and may sweare by my pedegree. Gods my life ! Sirrah Goulding, wilt be ruled by a foole ? Turne good fellow, turne swaggering gallant, and let the welkin roare, and Erebus also. Looke not west- 135 ward to the fall of Dan Phoebus, but to the east — Eastward hoe ! Where radiant beanies of lusty Sol appeare. And bright Eous makes the ivelkin cleare. We are both gentlemen, and therefore should be 140 no coxcombes; lets be no longer fooles to this 128 and my father, Q3 omits and. 136 Dan, <2q : Don. Scene I. ] (totfcOarD f$Qt II flat-cap, Touchstone. Eastward, bully, this sattin belly ! And canvas backt Touchstone — slife, man ! his father was a malt-man, and his mother sould ginger-bread in Christ-church. 145 Gold. What would yee ha me doe ? £)uick. Why, do nothing, be like a gentle- man, be idle; the cursse of man is labour. Wipe thv bum with testones, and make duckes and drakes with shillings. What, Eastward hoe! 15° Wilt thou crie, " What ist yee lack ? " stand with a bare pate and a dropping nose, under a wod- den pent-house, and art a gentleman ? Wilt thou beare tankards, and maist beare armes ? Be rul'd; turne gallant; Eastward hoe! ta lyiss re, ly re ro ! Who calls Jeronhno ? Speake, here I am. Gods so ! how like a sheepe thou lookst : a my conscience, some cowheard begot thee, thou Goulding of Goulding-hall ! Ha, boy ? Gold. Goe, yee are a prodigall coxcombe ! I a 160 cowheards sonne, because I turne not a drunken, whore-hunting rake-hell like thy selfe ! j-Pa/Vi. Rakehell ! rakehell ! Offers to draw, and Goulding trips up his heeles and holds him. Gold. Pish, in soft termes, yee are a cowardly, bragging boy. He ha you whipt. 165 ghiick. Whipt ? — thats good, ifaith ! Un- trusse me ? 1 2 (tottoatD j^oe [act i. Gold. No, thou wilt undoe thy selfe. Alas ! I behold thee with pitty, not with anger ; thou common shot-clog, gull of all companies; meeiyo thinkes I see thee already walking in Moore fields without a cloake, with halfe a hatte, with- out a band, a doublet with three buttons, with- out a girdle, a hose with one point, and no garter, with a cudgell under thine arme, borrowing and 175 begging three pence. £)uick. Nay, slife ! take this and take all ; as I am a gentleman borne, He be drunke, grow valiant, and beate thee. Exit. Gold. Goe, thou most madly vaine, whom 180 nothing can recover but that which reclaimes atheists, and makes great persons sometimes re- ligious — calamitie. As for my place and life, thus I have read : — What ere some vainer youth may terme disgrace, 185 The gaine of honest paines is never base ; From trades, from artes,from valor, honor springs, These three are founts of gentry, yea, of kings. Scene II] CaStCOafD $)Ot 1 3 [Actus primus. Scena secunda. A Room in Touchstone's Mouse. .] Enter Girtred, Mildrid, Bettrice, and Poldavy a taylor ; Poldavy with a faire gowne, Scotch varthingall and French fall in his amies ; Girt\_r~\ed in a French head attire, and citti- zens gowne ; Mildred sewing, and Bettrice leading a monkey after her. Gertrude. For the passion of patience, looke if Sir Petronell approach — that sweet, that fine, that delicate, that — for loves sake, tell me if he come. O sister Mill, though my father be a low capt tradsman, yet I must be a lady ; and I praise 5 God my mother must call me Madam. Does he come ? Off with this gowne, for shames sake, off with this gowne : let not my knight take me in the citty cut in any hand : tear't, pax ont (does he come ?) tear't of. Thus whilst shee 10 sleepes, I sorrow for her sake, &c. Mildred. Lord, sister, with what an immodest impaciencie and disgracefull scorne doe you put off your citty tier ; I am sorrie to thinke you imagin to right your selfe in wronging that which 15 hath made both you and us. Ger. I tell you I cannot indure it, I must be a lady : do you weare your quoiffe with a Lon- don licket, your stammell petticoate with two 6 Madam, Qz Medam. 19 stammell, Q3 stamen. 14 Casttoaru S?oe [act i. guardes, the buffin gowne with the tuf-taffitie 20 cape, and the velvet lace. I must be a lady, and I will be a lady. I like some humors of the Cittie dames well : to eate cherries onely at an angell a pound, good ; to dye rich scarlet black, pretty ; to line a grogaram gowne cleane thorough with 25 velvet, tollerable ; their pure linnen, their smocks of 3. li. a smock, are to be borne withall. But your minsing niceryes, taffata pipkins, durance petticotes and silver bodkins — Gods my life, as I shall be a lady, I cannot indure it ! Is hee 30 come yet ? Lord, what a long knight tis ! And ever shee cride, Shoute home ! And yet I knew one longer; And ever she cryde, Shoute home, fa, la, ly, re, lo, la ! Mill. Well, sister, those that scorne their 35 nest, oft flye with a sicke wing. Ger. Boe-bell ! Mill. Where titles presume to thrust before fit meanes to second them, wealth and respect often growe sullen, and will not follow. For 40 sure in this, I would for your sake I spake not truth: Where ambition of place goes before ftnesse of birth, contempt and disgrace follow. I heard a scholler once say that Ulisses, when he counter- feited himselfe madde, yoakt cattes and foxes 45 and dogges togither to draw his plowe, whilst he 33 Shoute home, Q3 Shout home; Bullcn guesses, Shoot home. Scene II] (totfcOatf) fyOt 1 5 followed and sowed salt ; but sure I judge them truely madde, that yoake citizens and court- iers, trades men and souldiers, a goldsmiths daughter and a knight. Well, sister, pray God 5° my father sowe not salt too. Ger. Alas ! poore Mil, when I am a lady, He pray for thee yet, ifaith : nay, and He vouch- safe to call thee Sister Alii still ; for though thou art not like to be a lady as I am, yet sure thou 55 art a creature of Gods making ; and mayest par- adventure to bee sav'd as soone as I (dos he come ?). And ever and anon she doubled in her song. Now, ladyes my comfort, what prophane ape's here ? Tailer, Poldavis, prethee, fit it, fit 6o it : is this a right Scot ? Does it clip close, and beare up round ? Poldavy. Fine and stifly, ifaith ; twill keepe your thighes so coole, and make your waste so small ; here was a fault in your bodie, but I have 65 supplyed the defect, with the effect of my Steele instrument, which, though it have but one eye, can see to rectifie the imperfection of the pro- portion. Ger. Most aedefying tailer ! I protest you 70 tailers are most sanctified members, and make many [a] crooked thing goe upright. How must I beare my hands ? light ? light ? 72 Many [3 my usurous. 32 (tottoarti $?oe [act n. I thy covetousnes ; thou art pandar to me for my wench, and I to thee for thy coosenages. K. me, K. thee, runnes through court and coun- 20 trey. Sec. Well said, my subtle Quickesilver ! These K's ope the dores to all this worldes felicitie : the dullest forehead sees it. Let not mast[er] courtier thinke he carries all the 25 knavery on his shoulders : I have knowne poore Hob, in the countrie, that has worne hob-nayles on's shoes, have as much villanie in 's head as he that weares gold bottons in 's cap. ghtick. Why, man, tis the London high-way 3° to thrift ; if vertue bee used, tis but as a scrappe to the nette of villanie. They that use it sim- plie, thrive simplie, I warrant. Waight and fashion makes goldsmiths cockolds. Enter Syndefie, with ^uicke-silvers doublet, cloake, rapier, and dagger. Sindefy. Here, sir, put of the other halfe of 35 your prentiship. £htick. Well sayd, sweet Syn. Bring forth my braverie. Now let my truncks shoote foorth their silkes concealde 18 I thy covetousnes, Q3 omits / and reads covetouines. 31 but as a scrappe, (^3 but a scape. Scene II] (tottoatt) U?OC 33 I now am free, and now will Justine My trunkes and punkes. Avant, dull flat-cap, then ! 40 Via, the curtaine that shaddowed Borgia ! There lie, thou huske of my envassail'd state, I, Sampson, now have burst the Philistins bands, And in thy lappe, my lovely Dalila, He lie, and snore out my enfranchisde state. 45 When Sampson tuas a tall yong man, His power and strength increased than ; He sould no more nor cup nor can ; But did them all despise. Old 'Touchstone, now write to thy friends 50 For one to sell thy base gold ends ; Shiickesilver now no more attends Thee, Touchstone. But, dad, hast thou seene my running gelding drest to day ? 55 Sec. That I have, Franck. The ostler a'th' Cocke drest him for a breakefast. Ghtick, What, did he eate him ? Sec. No, but he eate his breakfast for dress- ing him ; and so drest him for breakfast. 60 £hiick. O wittie age! where age is young in witte, And al youths words have gray beards full of it ! 44 Dalila, Qq. Delida. 50 write, Q2 vvright ; Q3 writ. 34 (tettoarij fyot [act n. Sin. But ahlas, Francke ! how will all this bee maintain'd now ? Your place maintain'd it before. 65 Quick. Why, and I maintainde my place. He to the court : another manner of place for maintenance, I hope, then the silly Cittie. I heard my father say, I heard my mother sing an olde song and a true : < T\]^ou art a shee foole, 70 and know' st not what belongs to our male wisdome. I shallbee a marchaunt, for-sooth : trust my estate in a wooden troughe as hee does ! What are these shippes but tennis balles for the windes to play withall ? tost from one wave to another ; 75 nowe under-line, nowe over the house ; some- times brick-wal'd against a rocke, so that the guttes flye out againe ; sometimes strooke under the wide hazzard, and farewell, Mast [er] Mar- chant. 80 Sin. Well, Francke, well : the seas you say, are uncertaine : but hee that sayles in your court seas shall finde 'hem tenne times fuller of haz- zard ; wherein to see what is to bee seene is torment more then a free spirite can indure ; 85 but when you come to suffer, howe many in- juries swallowe you ! What care and devotion must you use to humour an imperious lord, pro- 63 Sin. But ahlas, <,)2 llyn. But ah-las ; 23 Secur. But ahlas Fracke. Scene II] (totttoafO fi?O0 35 portion your lookes to his lookes, smiles to his smiles ; fit your sayles to the winde of his 90 breath ! £)uick. Tush ! hee's no journey-man in his craft that cannot doe that. Sin. But hee's worse then a prentise that does it ; not onely humouring the lorde, but every 95 trencher-bearer, every groome, that by indul- gence and intelligence crept into his favour, and by pandarisme into his chamber; he rules the roste ; and when my honourable lorde sayes it shall bee thus, my worshipfull rascall, the groome 100 of his close stoole, sayes it shall not bee thus, claps the doore after him, and who dares enter ? A prentise, quoth you ? Tis but to learne to live ; and does that disgrace a man ? Hee that rises hardly, stands firmely ; but hee that rises 105 with ease, alas ! falles as easily. ghtick. A pox on you ! who taught you this morallitie ? Sec. Tis long of this wittie age, Maister Francis. But, indeede, Mistris Synndefie, all no trades complaine of inconvenience, and there- fore tis best to have none. The marchaunt, hee complaines and sayes, " Trafficke is subject to much uncertaintie and losse ; " let 'hem keepe their goods on dry land, with a vengeaunce, and 115 not expose other mens substances to the mercie 36 (EasttoarD J?oe [act ii. of the windes, under protection of a woodden wall (as Maister Francis sayes) ; and all for greedie desire to enrich themselves with unconscionable gaine, two for one, or so; where I, and such 120 other honest men as live by lending money, are content with moderate profit, thirtie or fortie i'th'hundred, so wee may have it with quietnesse, and out of perrill of winde and weather, rather then runne those daungerous courses of trading, 125 as they doe. [Exit Sindefy.~\ ghiick. I, dad, thou mayst well bee called Se- curitie, for thou takest the safest course. Sec. Faith, the quieter, and the more con- tented, and, out of doubt, the more godly ; for 130 marchants, in their courses, are never pleas'd, but ever repining against heaven : one prayes for a westerly winde, to carry his shippe foorth ; another for an easterly, to bring his shippe home, and at every shaking of a leafe hee falles into 135 an agonie, to thinke what daunger his shippe is in on such a coast, and so foorth. The farmer, hee is ever at oddes with the weather : some- times the clowdes have beene too barren ; some- times the heavens forgette themselves; their 140 harvests answere not their hopes ; sometimes the season falles out too fruitefull, corne will beare no price, and so foorth. Th' artificer, hee's Scene II] €Z8t\BWfo fyOt 37 all for a stirring worlde : if his trade bee too full, and fall short of his expectation, then fallesHS he out of joynt. Where we that trade nothing but money are free from all this ; we are pleas'd with all weathers, let it raine or hold up, be callme or windy ; let the season be whatsoever, let trade goe how it will, wee take all in good 150 part, een what please the heavens to send us, so the sunne stand not still, and the moone keepe her usuall returnes, and make up dayes, moneths and yeares. Quick. And you have good securitie ? 155 Sec. I, mary, Francke, that's the speciall point. Quick. And yet, forsooth, wee must have trades to live withall ; for wee cannot stand without legges, nor flye without wings, and a 160 number of such skurvie phrases. No, I say still, hee that has wit, let him live by his wit ; hee that has none, let him be a trades-man. Sec. Witty Maister Francis ! tis pittie any trade should dull that quicke braine of yours. 165 Doe but bring Knight Petronell into my parch- ment toyles once, and you shall never neede to toyle in any trade, a my credit. You know his wives land ? Quick. Even to a foote, sir ; I have beenei7° 144 his trade, Q3 this trade. 38 (tottoaro fyot [act ii. often there ; a pretie fine seate, good land, all intire within it selfe. Sec. Well wooded ? ^htick. Two hundered pounds woorth of wood readye to fell, and a fine sweete house, 175 that stands just in the midst an't, like a pricke in the midst of a circle ; would I were your farmer, for a hundred pound a yeere ! Sec. Excellent M [aster] Francis ! how I do long to doe thee good ! How I doe hunger andiSo thirst to have the honour to inrich thee ! I, even to die, that thou mightest inherite my living: even hunger and thirst ! For, a my religion, M [aster] Francis, — and so tell Knight Petronell — I doe it to doe him a pleasure. i8 5 ^uick. Marry, dad, his horses are now com- ming up to beare downe his ladie ; wilt thou lend him thy stable to set 'hem in ? Sec. Faith, M [aster] Francis, I would be lothe to lend my stable out of dores ; in a 190 greater matter I will pleasure him, but not in this. £hiick. A pox of your hunger and thirst ! Well, dad, let him have money ; all he could any way get is bestowed on a ship now bound for Vir-195 ginia ; the frame of which voiage is so closely convaide that his new ladie nor any of her friendes know it. Notwithstanding, as soone as Scene II] CBStfcOarD fyOt 39 his ladyes hand is gotten to the sale of her inheritance, and you have furnisht him with 200 money, he will instantly hoyst saile and away. Sec. Now a franck gale of winde goe with him, Maister Franke ! we hav too few such knight adventurers ; who would not sell away competent certainties to purchase, with any dan-205 ger, excellent uncertainties ? Your true knight venturer ever does it. Let his wife seale to day ; he shall have his money to day. Quick. To morrow she shall, dad, before she goes into the country; to worke her to which 210 action with the more engines, I purpose pre- sently to preferre my sweete Sinne here to the place of her gentlewoman ; whom you (for the more credit) shall present as your friends daugh- ter, a gentlewoman of the countrie, new come 21 5 up with a will for a while to learne fashions forsooth, and be toward some ladie ; and she shall buzz prettie devices into her ladies eare ; feeding her humors so serviceable, as the man- ner of such as she is, you know, — 220 Sec. True, good Maister Fraunces. Enter Syndefie. Quick. That she shall keepe her port open to any thing she commends to her. Sec. A' my religion, a most fashionable pro- 4° (tottoaru H?oe [act ii. ject ; as good she spoile the lady, as the lady 225 spoile her ; for 'tis three to one of one side. Sweete Mistresse Sinne, how are you bound to Maister Frances ! I doe not doubt to see you shortly wedde one of the head men of our cittie. Sin. But, sweete Franke, when shall my fa- 2 , ther Securitie present me ? 6)uick. With all festination ; I have broken the ice to it already ; and will presently to the knights house, whether, my good old dad, let me pray thee, with all formallitie to man her. 235 Sec. Commaund me, Maister Frances, / doe hunger and thirst to doe thee service. Come, sweete Mistresse Sinne, take leave of my Wyn- nifride, and we will instantly meete francke Maister Frances at your ladies. 240 Enter Winnifride above. Winifred. Where is my Cu there ? Cu ? Sec. I Winnie. Win. Wilt thou come in, sweete Cu ? Sec. I Wynney, presently. Exeunt [ Winifred above, Security and Syn- defie below ^ Ghiick. " I Wynney," quod he ; thats all he 24s can doe, poore man, he may well cut off her name at Wynney. O, tis an egregious pandare ! What will not an usurous knave be, so he may Scene III] CaSttDarD l^OC 4 1 bee riche ? O, 'tis a notable Jewes trump ! I hope to live to see dogs meate made of the old 250 usurers flesh, dice of his bones, and indentures of his slcinne ; and yet his skinne is too thicke to make parchment, 'twould make good bootes for a peeter man to catch salmon in. Your onely smooth skinne to make fine vellam, 1S255 your Puritanes skinne ; they be the smoothest and slickest knaves in a countrie. [iix/V] [Actus Secundus, Scena Tertia. Before Sir Petronei's Lodging^ Enter Sir Petronell in bootes, with a riding wan [folloived by Quicksilver^ . Petronel. He out of this wicked towne as fast as my horse can trot ! Here's now no good action for a man to spend his time in. Tav- erns growe dead ; ordinaries are blowne up ; playes are at a stand ; howses of hospitallitie at a fall ; not a feather waving, nor a spurre gin- gling any where. He away instantlie. Shiick. Y'ad best take some crownes in your purse, knight, or else your Eastward Castle will smoake but miserably. j Pet. O, Francke ! my castle ? Alas ! all the castles I have are built with ayre, thou know'st. 42 CasttoarD l?oe [act 11. Quick. I know it, knight, and therefore won- der whether your lady is going. Pet. Faith, to seeke her fortune, I thinke. I 15 said I had a castle and land eastward, and east- ward she will, without contradiction ; her coach and the coach of the sunne must meete full butt. And the sunne being out shined with her ladyships glorie, she feares hee goes west- 20 ward to hange himselfe. Quick. And I feare, when her enchanted cas- tle becomes invisible, her ladyship will returne and follow his example. Pet. O, that she would have the grace ! for 25 I shall never be able to pacifie her, when she sees her selfe deceived so. Quick. As easely as can be. Tell her she mistooke your directions, and that shortly your selfe will downe with her to approove it ; and 30 then cloath but her croupper in a new gowne, and you may drive her any way you list. For these women, sir, are like Essex calves, you must wriggle 'hem on by the tayle still, or they will never drive orderly. 35 Pet. But, alas, sweet Francke ! thou know'st my habilitie will not furnish her bloud with those costly humors. Quick. Cast that cost on me, sir. I have spoken to my olde pandare, Securitie, for money 40 Scene III] CaSfttDatt) $)0t 43 or commoditie ; and commoditie (if you will) I know he will procure you. Pet. Commoditie ! Alas ! what commoditie ? Quick. Why, sir, what say you to figges and raysons ? 45 Pet. A plague of figges and raysons, and all such fraile commodities ! We shall make no- thing of 'hem. Quick. Why then, sir, what say you to fortie pound in rosted beefe ? 50 Pet. Out upon 't, I have lesse stomacke to that then to the figges and raysons ; He out of towne, though I sojourne with a friend of mine, for staye here I must not ; my creditors have laide to arrest me, and I have no friend under 55 heaven but my sword to baile me. Quick. Gods me, knight, put 'hem in suffi- cient sureties, rather than let your sworde bayle you ! Let 'hem take their choice, eyther the Kings Benche or the Fleete, or which of the 60 two Counters they like best, for, by the Lord, I like none of 'hem. Pet. Well, Francke, there is no jesting with my earnest necessitie; thou know'st if I make not present money to further my voyage begun, 65 all's lost, and all I have laid out about it. Quick. Why then, sir, in earnest, if you can get your wise lady to set her hand to the sale 68 ivise lady, Q3 wife lady. 44 tottoart) $?oe [act ii. of her inheritance, the bloud hound, Securitie, will smell out ready money for you instantly. 7 o Pet. There spake an angell : to bring her too which conformitie, I must faine my selfe ex- treamly amorous ; and alledging urgent excuses for my stay behinde, part with her as passion- ately as she would from her foysting hound. 75 £)uick. You have the sowe by the right eare, sir. I warrant there was never childe longd more to ride a cock-horse or weare his new coate then she longs to ride in her new coache. She would long for every thing when she was a 80 maide, and now she will runne mad for 'hem. I laye my life, she will have every yeare foure children ; and what charge and change of humour you must endure while she is with childe, and how she will tie you to your tackling 85 till she be with child, a dog would not endure. Nay, there is no turne-spit dog bound to his wheele more servily then you shall be to her wheele ; for, as that dogge can never climbe the top of his wheele but when the toppe comes 90 under him, so shall you never clime the top of her contentment but when she is under you. Pet. Slight, how thou terrifiest me ! ®)uick. Nay, harke you, sir ; what nurses, what midwives, what fooles, what phisitions, 95 what cunning women must be sought for (fear- Scene III] CaSftfctJarD C?0C 45 ing sometimes she is bewitcht, some times in a consumption), to tell her tales, to talke bawdy to her, to make her laughe, to give her glisters, to let her bloud under the tongue and betwixt ioo the toes ; how she will revile and kisse you, spit in your face, and lick it off againe ; how she will vaunt you are her creature ; shee made you of nothing ; how shee could have had thousand marke joyntures ; she could have bin made a 105 lady by a Scotche knight, and never ha' married him ; shee could have had poynados in her bed every morning ; how she set you up, and how she will pull you downe : youle never be able to stand of your legges to endure it. no Pet. Out of my fortune, what a death is my life bound face to face too ! The best is, a large time-fitted conscience is bound to no- thing : marriage is but a forme in the schoole of policie, to which schollers sit fastned onely with 115 painted chaines. Old Securities young wife is nere the further of with me. Quick. Thereby lyes a tale, sir. The old usurer will be here instantly, with my puncke Syndefie, whome you know your lady has pro- 120 mist mee to entertaine for her gentlewoman ; and he (with a purpose to feede on you) invites you most solemnly by me to supper. Pet. It falls out excellently fitly : I see de- sire of gaine makes jealousie venturous. 125 4 6 (tottoaru ^oe [act n. Enter Gyrt\_rude.~\ See, Francke, here comes my lady. Lord, how she viewes thee ! She knowes thee not, I thinke, in this braverie. Ger. How now ? who be you, I pray ? Quick. One Maister Frances Quickesilver, 130 an't please your ladiship. Ger. Gods my dignitie ! as I am a lady, if he did not make me blush so that mine eyes stood a water. Would I were unmaried againe ! 135 Enter Securitie and Sindefie. Where's my woman, I pray ? Quick. See, madam, she now comes to at- tend you. Sec. God save my honourable knight and his worshipfull lady! 140 Ger. Y'are very welcome ; you must not put on your hat yet. Sec. No, madam ; till I know your ladyships further pleasure, I will not presume. Ger. And is this a gentlemans daughter new 145 come out of the countrie ? Sec. She is, madam ; and one that her father hath a speciall care to bcstowe in some honour- able ladies service, to put her out of her honest humours, forsooth ; for she had a great desire to 150 be a nun, an't please you. Scene III] (tottoatf) H?O0 47 Ger. A nun ? what nun ? a nun substantive ? or a nun adjective ? Sec. A nun substantive, madam, I hope, if a nun be a noune. But I meane, lady, a vowdiss maide of that order. Ger. He teach her to be a maide of the order, I warrant you. And can you doe any worke belongs to a ladyes chamber ? Sin. What I cannot doe, madam, I would bee 1 60 glad to learne. Ger. Well said ; hold up, then ; hold up your head, I say ; come hether a little. Sin. I thanke your ladiship. Ger. And harke you — good man, you may put 165 on your hatt now ; I doe not looke on you — I must have you of my faction now ; not of my knights, maide. Sin. No, forsooth, madam, of yours. Ger. And draw all my servants in my bowe, 170 and keepe my counsell, and tell me tales, and put me riddles, and reade on a booke sometimes when I am busie, and laugh at countrie gentle- women, and command any thing in the house for my reteiners ; and care not what you spend, 175 for it is all mine ; and in any case be still a maide, what soever you doe, or whatsoever any man can doe unto you. Sec. I warrant your ladiship for that. 48 (tettoaru J?oe [act n. Ger. Very well; you shall ride in my coach 1 80 with me into the country, to morrow morning. Come, knight, I pray thee lets make a short supper, and to bed presently. Sec. Nay, good madam, this night I have a short supper at home waites on his worships 185 acceptation. Ger. By my faith, but he shall not goe, sir ; I shall swoune and he sup from me. Pet. Pray thee, forbeare ; shall he lose his provision ? 190 Ger. I, by ['r] lady, sir, rather then I lose my longing. Come in, I say; as I am a lady, you shall not goe. £)uick. I told him what a burre he had gotten. 195 Sec. If you will not sup from your knight, madam, let me entreate your ladiship to sup at my house with him. Ger. No, by my faith, sir; then we cannot be a bed soone enough after supper. 200 Pet. What a medcine is this ! Well, Mais- ter Securitie, you are new married as well as I ; I hope you are bound as well. We must honour our young wives, you know. Quick. In pollicie, dad, till to morrow she has 205 scald. 191 by [V] lady, Qq. by lady. Scene III.] (tottoattl fyOZ 49 Sec. I hope in the morning yet your knight- hood will breake-fast with me ? Pet. As early as you will, sir. Sec. [I] thanke your good worship; I do hun-210 ger and thirst to do you good, sir. Ger. Come, sweete knight, come ; I do hunger and thyrst to be a bed with thee. Exeunt [Gertrude with Petronel and Sin- defy ; Security with Quicksilver.^ 210 / thanke, Qz omits I. ACTUS TERTIUS. Scena Prima. [Security's House.] Enter Petronell, Quicksilver, Securities Bramble, and Wynnifrid. Petronel. Thankes for [y]our feastlike breake- fast, good Maister Securitie; I am sory (by rea- son of my instant haste to so long a voyage as Virginia) I am without meanes by any kinde amends to show how affectionatly I take your 5 kindnesse, and to confirme by some worthy cere- monie a perpetuall league of friendship betwixt us. Security. Excellent knight ! let this be a token betwixt us of inviolable friendship. I am new 10 marryed to this fayre gentlewoman, you know; and by my hope to make her fruitefull, though I be something in yeares, I vowe faithfully unto you to make you godfather, though in your ab- sence, to the first childe I am blest withall; and 15 Tertius, Qq. Tertii. I your f castlike breakefast, Q2 our, Q3 your. Scene I. ] (tettOart) $)0t 5 1 henceforth call me gossip, I beseech you, if you please to accept it. Pet. In the highest degree of gratitude, my most worthy gossip ; for confirmation of which friendly title, let me entreate my faire gossip, 20 your wife here, to accept this diamond, and keepe it as my gift to her first childe, whereso- ever my fortune, in event of my voyage, shall bestowe me. Sec. How now, my coye wedlock ; make 25 you strange of so noble a favour ? Take it, I charge you, with all affection, and, by way of taking your leave, present boldly your lips to our honourable gossip. ghiick. [aside~\ How ventrous he is to him, 30 and how jealous to others ! Pet. Long may this kinde touch of our lippes print in our hearts al the formes of affection. And now, my good gossip, if the writings be ready to which my wife should seale, let them 35 be brought this morning before she takes coache into the countrie, and my kindnesse shall worke her to dispatche it. Sec. The writings are ready, sir. My learned counsell here, Maister Bramble the lawyer, hath 40 perusde them ; and within this houre I will bring the scrivenour with them to your worshipfull lady. 52 (tottoart) J?oe [act hi. Pet. Good Maister Bramble, I will here take my leave of you then. God send you fortunate 45 pleas, sir, and contentious clients ! Bramble. And you foreright windes, sir, and a fortunate voyage ! Exit. Enter a Messenger. Messenger. Sir Petronell, here are three or foure gentlemen desire to speake with you. 50 Pet. What are they ? ®)uick. They are your followers in this voy- age, knight : Captaine Seagull and his associates; I met them this morning, and told them you would be here. 55 Pet. Let them enter, I pray you ; I know they long to bee gone, for their stay is danger- ous. Enter Seagull, Scapethrift, and Spendall. Seagull. God save my honourable collonell ! Pet. Welcome, good Captaine Seagull, and 60 worthy gentlemen. If you will meete my friend Francke here, and me, at the Blew Anchor Taverne by Billinsgate this evening, we will there drinke to our happy voyage, be merry, and take boate to our ship with all expedition. 65 Spendall. Deferre it no longer, I beseech you, 66, 79 Spendall, Qz Spoyl ; £3, Spend. scene i. ] (tottoatt) $x>e 53 sir; but as your voyage is hetherto carried closely, and in another knights name, so for your owne safetie and ours, let it be continued : our meeting and speedy purpose of departing 70 knowne to as few as is possible, least your ship and goods be attacht. ^uick. Well advisd, captaine ; our collonell shall have money this morning to dispatch all our departures ; bring those gentlemen at night 75 to the place appointed, and, with our skinnes full of vintage, weele take occasion by the van- tage, and away. Spend. We will not faile but be there, sir. Pet. Good morrow, good captaine, and my 80 worthy associates. Health and all soveraigntie to my beautifull gossip ; for you, sir, we shall see you presently with the writings. Sec. With writings and crownes to my hon- orable gossip. / do hunger and thirst to doe you 85 good, sir. Exeunt. 82 beautifull gossip, Q3 goship. 84-85 honorable gossip, (^3 goship. 54 (tottoaro J?oe [act m. Actus Tertius. Scena Secunda. \_An Inn-yard.! Enter a Coachman in hast, in' 's frock, feeding. Coachman. Heer's a stirre when cittizens ride out of towne, indeed, as if all the house were afire ! Slight ! they will not give a man leave to eat's breakfast afore he rises. Enter Hamlet, a footeman, in haste. Hamlet. What, coachman ? My ladyes coach, 5 for shame ! Her ladiships ready to come downe. Enter Potkinn, a tankerd bearer. Potkin. Sfoote, Hamlet, are you madde ? Whether run you now ? You should brushe up my olde mistresse ! Enter Syndefye. Sindefy. What, Potkinn ? You must put off 10 your tankerd and put on your blew cote, and waite upon Mistresse Toochstone into the country. Exit. Pot. I will, forsooth, presently. Exit. Enter Mistresse Fond and Mistresse Gazer. Fond. Come, sweete Mistresse Gazer, lets 15 watch here, and see my Lady Flashe take coach. Tertius, Qq. Tertii. Scene II] (tottOarD $)0t 55 Gazer. A my word heer's a most fine place to stand in ; did you see the new ship lancht last day, Mistresse Fond ? Fond. O God ! and we cittizens should loose 20 such a sight ! Gaz. I warrant here will be double as many people to see her take coach as there were to see it take water. Fond. O shee's married to a most fine castle 25 i' th' countrey, they say. Ga. But there are no gyants in the castle, are there ? Fond. O no : they say her knight kild 'hem all, and therefore he was knighted. 30 Gaz. Would to God her ladiship would come away ! Enter Gyr\jred~^, Mistris c Tooch\jtone~\, Synd\_efy\, Ham\_let], Pot[kin~\. Fond. She comes, she comes, she comes! Gazer. Fond. Pray heaven blesse your ladiship ! Ger. Thanke you, good people. My coach, 35 for the love of heaven, my coach ! In good truth I shall swoune else. Ham. Coach, coach, my ladies coach ! Exit. Gertrude. As I am a lady, I thinke I am with child already, I long for a coach so. May one 40 be with childe afore they are married, mother ? *6 t* tA' countrey, Q_q. 'ith'. 5 6 Catfttoat* *?oe [act in. Mist. T. I, by'r ladie, madam ; a little thing does that ; I have seene a little prick no bigger then a pins head swell bigger and bigger, til it has come to an ancome; and eene so tis in these 45 cases. Enter Ham[let.~] Ham. Your coach is comming, madam. Ger. That's well said. Now, heaven ! me thinks I am eene up to the knees in preferment. But a little higher, but a little higher, but a little 50 higher, There, there, there lyes Cupids fire ! Mist. T. But must this young man, an't please you, madam, run by your coach all the way a foote ? Ger. I, by my faith, I warrant him ; he gives 55 no other milke, as I have another servant does. Mist. T. Ahlas ! tis eene pittie, me thinks ; for Gods sake, madam, buy him but a hobbie horse ; let the poore youth have something be- 6c twixt his legges to ease 'hem. Ahlas ! we must do as we would be done too. Ger. Goe too, hold your peace, dame ; you talke like an olde foole, I tell you ! scineii] GaetlDarO t?or 57 Enter Petr^oneQ and Quicksilver. Pet. Wilt thou be gone, sweete honny suckle, 65 before I can goe with thee ? Ger. I pray thee, sweete knight, let me ; I do so long to dresse up thy castle afore thou com'st. But I marie howe my modest sister occupies her selfe this morning, that shee cannot waite on me 70 to my coach, as well as her mother. £>uick. Mary, madam, shee's married by this time to prentise Goulding. Your father, and some one more, stole to church with 'hem in all the haste, that the cold meat left at your wed- 75 ding might serve to furnish their nuptiall table. Ger. There's no base fellowe, my father, nowe ; but hee's eene fit to father such a daugh- ter: he must call me daughter no more now: but " madam," and " please you, madam ; " and 80 " please your worship, madam," indeede. Out upon him ! marry his daughter to a base pren- tise ! Mist. T. What should one doe ? Is there no lawe for one that marries a womans daugh- 85 ter against her will ? Howe shall we punish him, madam ? Ger. As I am a lady, an't would snowe, wee'd so peble 'hem with snowe bals as they 89 ivee'd, Q3 weele. 58 Casttoaru fyot [actih. come from church ; but, sirra Franck Quick- 90 silver, — £)uick. I, madam. Ger. Dost remember since thou and I clapt what d'ye calts in the garrat ? £)uick. I know not what you meane, madam. 95 Ger. His head as white as mylke, All flaxen was his haire ; But now he is dead, And laid in his bedd, And never will come againe. 100 God be at your labour ! Enter Touch\_stone,~\ Gould \_ing~], Mild\red^\ with rosemary. Pet. Was there ever such a lady ? ®)uick. See, madam, the bride and bridegrome ! Ger. Gods my precious ! God give you joy, Mistresse What lacke you ! Now out upon 105 thee, baggage ! My sister married in a taffeta hat ! Mary, hang you ! Westward with a wanion te'yee ! Nay, I have done we ye, min- ion, then, y'faith ; never looke to have my coun- tenance any more, nor anything I can do for no thee. Thou ride in my coach, or come downe to my castle ! fie upon thee ! I charge thee in my ladiships name, call me sister no more. Touchstone. An't please your worship, this is not your sister: this is my daughter, and she 115 Scene II] (tottoatt) fiX* 59 call[s] me father, and so does not your lady- ship, an't please your worship, madam. Mist. T. No, nor she must not call thee father by heraldrie, because thou mak'st thy prentise thy sonne as wel as she. Ah, thou 120 misproude prentise! dar'st thou presume to marry a ladies sister ? Gold. It pleas'd my master, forsooth, to em- bolden me with his favour ; and though I con- fesse my selfe farre unworthie so worthy a wife 125 (beeing in part her servant, as I am your pren- tise) yet (since I may say it without boasting) I am borne a gentleman, and by the trade I have learn'd of my master (which I trust taints not my blood), able, with mine owne industrie and 130 portion, to maintaine your daughter, my hope is, heaven will so blesse our humble beginning, that in the end I shalbe no disgrace to the grace with which my master hath bound me his double prentise. i 35 Touch. Master me no more, sonne, if thou think'st me worthy to be thy father. Ger. Sunne ! Now, good Lord, how he shines ! And you marke him, hee's a gentleman ! Gold. I, indeede, madam, a gentleman borne. 140 Pet. Never stand a' your gentrye, M [aster] Bridegrome ; if your legges be no better then 1 1 5 calls, Qz call, Q3 cals. 142 Bridegrome, Q_q. Bridgegrome. 60 (tottoart) J?0£ [Act III. your armes, you'le be able to stand up on nei- ther shortly. Touch. An't please your good worshippe, sir, 145 there are two sorts of gentlemen. Pet. What meane you, sir ? Touch. Bold to put off my hat to your wor- shippe Pet. Nay, pray forbeare, sir, and then foorthiso with your two sorts of gentlemen. Touch. If your worship will have it so, I saye there are two sorts of gentlemen. There is a gentleman artificiall, and a gentleman naturall. Now though your worship be a gentleman nat-155 urall — Worke upon that now. Quick. Well said, olde Touch ; I am proude to heare thee enter a set speech, yfaith ; forth, I beseech thee. Touch. Cry you mercie, sir, your worship's 160 a gentleman I doe not know. If you bee one of my acquaintance, y'are very much disguisde, sir. Quick. Go too, old quipper; forth with thy speech, I say. ^5 Touch. What, sir, my speeches were ever in vaine to your gratious worship ; and therefore, till I speake, to you — gallantry indeed ! — I will save my breath for my broth anon. Come, my 157 olde Touch supplied from Q3 ; Q2. olde Touchstone. scene ii.] Casfttoart) $?oe 6 1 poore sonne and daughter, let us hide ourselves 170 in our poore humilitie, and live safe. Ambition consumes it selfe with the very show. Worke upon that noiv. [Exeunt Touchstone, Golding and Mildred.'] Ger. Let him goe, let him goe, for Gods sake! let him make his prentise his Sonne, fori7S Gods sake ! give away his daughter, for Gods sake ! and when they come a begging to us for Gods sake, let's laugh at their good husbandry for Gods sake. Farewell, sweet knight, pray thee make haste after. 180 Pet. What shall I say ? I would not have thee goe. Quick. Now, O now, I must depart, Parting though it absence move. This dittie, knight, doe I see in thy lookes in 185 capitall letters. What a grief tis to depart, and leave the flower that has my hart ! My sweete ladie, and alacke for woe, why, should we part so ? Tell truth, knight, and shame all dissembling lovers ; does not your paine lye on that side ? 190 Pet. If it doe, canst thou tell me how I may cure it ? Quick. Excellent easily. Divide your selfe in two halfes, just by the girdlestead ; send one 62 (tottoaro Jjoe [act in. halfe with your lady, and keepe the tother your- 195 selfe ; or else doe as all true lovers doe, part with your heart, and leave your bodie behinde. I have seen't done a hundred times : tis as easie a matter for a lover to part without a heart from his sweete heart and he nere the 200 worse, as for a mouse to get from a trappe and leave hertaile behind him. See, here comes the writings. Enter Securities with a Scrivener. Sec. Good morrow to my worshipfull ladie. I present your ladishippe with this writing, to 205 which if you please to set your hand with your knights, a velvet gowne shall attend your jour- ney, a' my credite. Ger. What writing is it, knight ? Pet. The sale, sweete heart, of the poore ten- 210 ement I tolde thee off, onely to make a little money to sende thee downe furniture for my castle, to which my hand shall lead thee. Ger. Very well. Now give me your pen, I pray. 215 ^uick. It goes downe without chewing, yfaith. Scrivener. Your worships deliver this as your deede ? 217 yfaith, Qq. y'faith. Scene II.] CaSttOarD §QZ 63 Ambo. Wee doe. 220 Ger. So now, knight, farewell till I see thee. Pet. All farewell to my sweet heart ! Mist. T. God-boye, sonne knight. Pet. Farewell, my good mother. Ger. Farewell, Francke ; I would faine take 225 thee downe if I could. ghtick. I thankeyour good ladiship; farewell, Mistris Syndifie. Exeunt [Gertrude and her party. ] Pet. O tedious voyage, whereof there is no ende ! What will they thinke of me ? 230 ®hiick. Thinke what they list. They long'd for a vagarie into the countrie, and now they are fitted. So a woman marry to ride in a coach, she cares not if she ride to her ruine. Tis the great ende of many of their manages. This is 235 not [the] first time a lady has ridde a false journie in her coach, I hope. Pet. Nay, tis no matter, I care little what they thinke ; hee that wayes mens thoughts has his handes full of nothing. A man, in the 240 course of this worlde, should bee like a surgeons instrument, worke in the woundes of others, and feele nothing himselfe. The sharper and subtler, the better. 221 farewell, Q3 farwell. 236 Qq. omit the. 64 CasttoarD n?oe [act hi. 6)uick. As it falles out nowe, knight, you shall 245 not neede to devise excuses, or endure her out- cryes, when shee returnes ; wee shall now bee gone before where they can not reache us. Pet. Well, my kinde compere, you have now th' assurance we both can make you ; let mee25o now entreate you, the money wee agreed on may bee brought to the Blewe Ancor, nere to Billings-gate, by six a clocke ; where I and my cheife friends, bound for this voyage, will with feastes attend you. 2 55 Sec. The money, my most honorable com- pere, shall without fayle observe your appointed howre. Pet. Thankes, my deare gossip. I must now impart To your approved love, a loving secret, 260 As one on whome my life doth more relie In friendly trust then any man alive. Nor shall you be the chosen secretarie Of my affections for affection onely : For I protest (if God blesse my returne) 265 To make you partner in my actions gaine As deepely as if you had ventur'd with me Halfe my expences. Know then, honest gossip, I have injoyed with such divine contentment A gentlewomans bedde whome you well knowe,27° That I shall nere enjoy this tedious voiage, scene ii] CasttoarD H?oe 65 Nor live the lest part of the time it asketh, Without her presence; so I thirst and hunger To taste the deare feast of her companie. And if the hunger and the thirst you vow 275 As my sworne gossip, to my wished good Be, as I knowe it is, unfainde and firme, Doe mee an easie favour in your power. Sec. Bee sure, brave gossip, all that I can doe, To my best nerve, is wholly at your service : 280 Who is the woman, first, that is your friend ? Pet. The woman is your learned counsailes wife, The lawyer, Maister Bramble ; whome would you Bring out this even in honest neighbour-hood, To take his leave with you, of me your gossip, 285 I, in the meane time, will send this my friende Home to his house, to bring his wife disguis'd, Before his face, into our companie ; For love hath made her looke for such a wile, To free her from his tyranous jelosie. 290 And I would take this course before another, In stealing her away, to make us sport, And gull his circumspection the more grosely ; And I am sure that no man like your selfe Hath credite with him to entice his jelosie 295 To so long staye abrode as may give time To her enlardgment in such safe disguise. 66 (tottoatt) $?O0 [Act III. Sec. A pretie, pithie, and most pleasant pro- ject ! Who would not straine a point of neighbour- hood For such a point de-vice ? that, as the shippe 300 Of famous Draco went about the world, Will wind about the lawyer, compassing The world, him selfe ; he hath it in his armes, And that's enough for him, without his wife. A lawyer is ambitious, and his head 305 Cannot bee prais'de nor rais'de too high, With any forcke of highest knaverye. He goe fetche her straight. Exit Securitie. Pet. So, so. Now, Franke, goe thou home to his house, Stead of his lawyers, and bring his wife hether, 310 Who, just like to the lawyers wife is prison'd With his sterne usurous jelosie, which could never Be over reacht thus but with over-reaching. Enter Securitie. Sec. And, M[aister] Francis, watch you th' instant time To enter with his exit : 't wilbe rare, 3 r 5 Two fine horn'd beastes, a cammell and a lawyer ! 312 his iter tie, Q3 eyes sterne. 315 't wilbe, Q2 t' wilbe, Q3 t'will be. Scene II.] (tottaD $W 67 Qu. How the olde villaine joyes in villany ! [Exit and re-enter Secur[itie.~j Sec. And harke you, gossip, when you have her here, Have your bote ready, shippe her to your ship With utmost haste, lest Maister Bramble stay 320 you. To o're reach that head that outreacheth all heads ? Tis a trick rampant ! — tis a very quiblyn ! I hope this harvest to pitch cart with lawyers, Their heads wil be so forked. This slie tooche Will get apes to invent a number such. Exit. 1*5 Quick. Was ever rascall honied so with poyson ? He that delights in slavish avarice, Is apt to joy in every sort of vice. Wei, He go fetch his wife, whilst he the 330 lawyers. Pet. But stay, Franck, lets thinke how we may disguise her upon this sodaine. Quick. Gods me, there's the mischiefe ! But harke you, here's an excellent device: fore 335 God, a rare one ! I will carry her a saylers gowne and cap, and cover her, and a players beard. Pet. And what upon her head ? Quick. I tell you, a sailers cap! Slight, God 34° 68 CasttoarD J?oe [act hi. forgive mee ! what kind of figent memorie have you ? Pet. Nay, then, what kinde of figent wit hast thou ? A saylers cap ? — how shall she put it off 345 When thou presentst her to our companie ? Quick. Tush, man, for that, make her a sawcie sayler. Pet. Tush, tush ! tis no fit sawce for such sweete mutton. I know not what t' advise. 350 Enter Security'] with his wives gowne. Sec. Knight, knight, a rare devise ! Pet. Sownes, yet againe ! Quick. What stratagem have you now ? Sec. The best that ever — You talkt of dis- guising ? Pet. I, mary, gossip, thats our present care. 355 Sec. Cast care a way then ; here's the best device For plaine Security, (for I am no better), I think, that ever liv'd : here's my wives gowne, Which you may put upon the lawyers wife, And which I brought you, sir, for two great 360 reasons ; One is, that Maister Bramble may take hold 354 e-ver — Qq. The best that ever. You talkt etc. Scene II] (tottoatD fyOt 69 Of some suspition that it is my wife, And gird me so perhaps with his law wit ; The other (which is pollicie indeede) Is that my wife may now be tyed at home, 365 Having no more but her old gowne abroade, And not showe me a quirck, while I fyrke others. Is not this rare ? Ambo. The best that ever was. Sec. Am I not borne to furnish gentlemen ? 370 Pet. O my deare gossip ! Sec. Well hold, Maister Francis ; watch when the lawyer's out, and put it in. And now I will go fetch him. Exit. Quick. O my dad ! he goes as twere the devill 375 to fetch the lawyer ; and devill shall he be, if homes wil make him. [Reenter Security.! Pet. Why, how now, gossip ? why stay you there musing ? Sec. A toye, a toy runns in my head, yfaith. 380 Quick. A pox of that head ! is there more toyes yet ? Pet. What is it, pray thee, gossip ? Sec. Why, sir, what if you should slip away now with my wives best gowne, I having no 385 securitie for it ? 369 -was, Q2. shas, Q3 was. 7 o (tottoarD S?oe [act hi. Quick. For that I hope, dad, you will take our words. Sec. I, by th' masse, your word, thats a proper staffe For wise Security to leane upon ! 39 o But tis no matter, once lie trust my name On your crackt credits ; let it take no shame. Fetch the wench, Franck. Exit. Quick. He wait upon you, sir, And fetch you over. \_Aside~\ You were nere395 so fetcht. Go to the taverne, knight ; your followers Dare not be drunke, I thinke, before their cap- taine. Exit. Pet. Would I might lead them to no hotter servise Till our Virginian gould were in our purses ! Exit. [Actus Tertius. Scena Tertia.] Enter Seagull, Spendall, and Scapethrift, in the [Blue Anchor! Taverne, with a Drawer. Seagull. Come, drawer, pierce your neatest hogsheades, and lets have cheare, not fit for your Billingsgate taverne, but for our Virginian colonel ; he wilbe here instantly. 3 taverne but, Qz bnt. Scene III.] (totfoartJ fyOt 7 l Drawer. You shall have all things fit, sir ; 5 please you have any more wine ? Spendall. More wine, slave ! Whether we drinke it or no, spill it, and drawe more. Scapethrift. Fill all the pottes in your house with all sorts of licour, and let 'hem waite on 10 us here like souldiers in their pewter coates ; and though we doe not employe them now, yet wee will maintaine 'hem till we doe. Draw. Said like an honourable captaine ; you shall have all you can command, sir. 15 Exit Drawer. Sea. Come, boyes, Virginia longs till we share the rest of her maiden-head. Spend. Why, is she inhabited already with any English ? Sea. A whole country of English is there 20 man, bred of those that were left there in 79 ; they have married with the Indians, and make 'hem bring forth as beautifull faces as any we have in England ; and therefore the Indians are so in love with 'hem that all the treasure they 25 have they lay at their feete. Scape. But is there such treasure there, cap- taine, as I have heard ? Sea. I tell thee, golde is more plentiful! there then copper is with us ; and for as much redde 30 copper as I can bring, He have thrice the waight 72 (tottoatt) ^oe [act m. in golde. Why, man, all their dripping pans and their chamber pottes are pure gold ; and all the chaines with which they chaine up their streetes are massie golde ; all the prisoners they 35 take are fetterd in gold ; and for rubies and diamonds, they goe forth on holydayes and gather 'hem by the sea-shore, to hang on their childrens coates, and sticke in their capps, as commonly as our children weare saffron guilt 4° brooches and groates with hoales in 'hem. Scape. And is it a pleasant countrie withall ? Sea. As ever the sunne shinde on ; temperate and full of all sorts of excellent viands : wilde boare is as common there as our tamest bacon 45 is here ; venison as mutton. And then you shall live freely there, without sargeants, or courtiers, or lawyers, or intelligencers, onely a few indus- trious Scots perhaps, who indeed are disperst over the face of the whole earth. But as for 50 them, there are no greater friends to English men and England, when they are out an't, in the world, then they are. And for my part, I would a hundred thousand of 'hem were there, for wee are all one countreymen now, yee know, 55 and wee shoulde finde ten times more comfort of them there then wee doe heere. Then for your meanes to advancement, there it is simple, 48-57 onely a feiu . . . doe heere. Not in Qi and Q3. Scene III] (tottoarD $)0t 73 and not preposterously mixt. You may be an alderman there, and never be scavinger : you 60 may be a nobleman, and never be a slave. You may come to preferment enough, and never be a pandar ; to riches and fortune inough, and have never the more villanie nor the lesse wit. Besides, there we shall have no more law 65 then conscience, and not too much of either ; serve God inough, eate and drinke inough, and " inough is as good as a feast." Spend. Gods me ! and how farre is it thether ? Sea. Some six weekes sayle, no more, with any 70 indifferent good winde. And if I get to any part of the coaste of Affrica, He saile thether with any winde ; or when I come to Cape Fin- ister, ther's a foreright winde continuall wafts us till we come at Virginia. See, our collonell's 75 come. Enter Sir Petronell with his follotvers. Pet. Well mette, good Captaine Seagull, and my noble gentlemen ! Nowe the sweete houre of our freedome is at hand. Come, drawer, fill us some carowses, and prepare us for the mirth 80 ihat will be occasioned presently. Here will be 61 a nobleman, the reading of Ql ; Qz and Q3, any other officer. 63 fortune, Qz furunc. 65-68 Besides . . . as a feast. Not found in Qi. 74 (BasttoarD J?oe [act hi. a prety wenche, gentlemen that will beare us company all our voyage. Sea. Whatsoever she be, here's to her health, noble colonell, both with cap and knee. 85 Pet. Thankes, kinde Captaine Seagull, shee's one I love dearely and must not bee knowne till wee bee free from all that knowe us. And so, gentlemen, heer's to her health. Ambo. Let it come, worthy collonell ; Wee 90 doe hunger and thirst for it. Pet. Afore heaven, you have hitte the phrase of one that her presence will touch from the foote to the forehead, if ye knew it. Spend. Why, then, we wil joyne his forehead 95 with her health, sir ; and Captaine Scapethrift, here's to 'hem both. Enter Securitie and Bramble. Security. See, see, Maister Bramble, fore heaven, their voyage cannot but prosper ! they are o'their knees for successe to it ! 100 Bramble. And they pray to god Bacchus. Sec. God save my brave colonell, with all his tall captaines and corporalls. See, sir, my wor- shipfull learned counsaile, M [aster] Bramble, is come to take his leave of you. 105 Pet. Worshipfull M [aster] Bramble, how farre doe you drawe us into the sweete bryer of Scene III.] (tottoatt) $}0€ 75 your kindnesse ! Come, Captain Seagull, an- other health to this rare Bramble, that hath never a pricke about him. no Sfa. I pledge his most smooth disposition, sir. Come, Maister Securitie, bend your supporters, and pleadge this notorious health here. Sec. Bend you yours likewise, M [aster] Bramble; for it is you shal pleadge me. 115 Sea. Not so, M [aster] Securitie ; hee must not pleadge his ovvne health. Sec. No, Maister Captaine ? Enter £)uickesilver, with IVinny disguis'd. Why, then, here's one is fitly come to doe him that honour. 120 Quicksilver. Here's the gentlewoman your cosin, sir, whom, with much entreatie, I have brought to take her leave of you in a taverne ; asham'd whereof, you must pardon her if she put not off her maske. 125 Pet. Pardon mee, sweete cosen ; my kinde desire to see you before I went, made mee so importunate to entreat your presence here. Sec. How now, M [aster] Frances, have you honour'd this presence with a faire gentlewo-130 man ? Quick. Pray, sir, take you no notice of her, for she will not be knowne to you. 76 (BasttoarD C?or [act hi. Sec. But my learn'd counsaile, M [aster] Bramble here, I hope may know her. 135 £)uick. No more then you, sir, at this time; his learning must pardon her. Sec. Well, God pardon her for my part, and I doe, He bee sworne ; and so, Maister Francis, here's to all that are going eastward to night to- 14° wardes Cuckolds Haven ; and so to the health of Maister Bramble. £hiick. I pledge it^ sir. [Kneels. ~] Hath it gone rounde, Captaines ? Sea. It has, sweet Franck ; and the rounde 14s closes with thee. ®hiick. Wei, sir, here's to al eastward and toward cuckolds, and so to famouse Cuckolds Haven, so fatally remembred. Surgit. Pet. Nay, pray thee, cuz, weepe not; gossip 15° Securitie. Sec. I, my brave gossip. Pet. A word, I beseech you, sir. Our friende, Mistresse Bramble here, is so dissolv'd in teares, that shee drownes the whole mirth of our meet- 155 ing. Sweete gossip, take her aside and comfort her. Sec. Pittie of all true love, Mistresse Bram- ble ; what, weepe you to enjoy your love ? Whats the cause, ladie ? 1st because your hus-160 band is so neere, and your heart earnes to have Scene III] (tottoatf) fyOZ 77 a litle abus'd him ? Ahlas, ahlas ! the offence is too common to be respected. So great a grace hath seldome chanc'd to so unthankfull a wo- man; to be rid of an old jelous dotard, to enjoy 165 the armes of a loving young knight, that when your prick-lesse Bramble is withered with griefe of your losse, will make you floorish afresh in the bed of a ladie. Enter Drawer. Drawer. Sir Petronell, here's one of your 170 water men come to tell you it wil be flood these three houres; and that t'will bee dangerous go- ing against the tyde, for the skie is overcast, and there was a porcpisce even now seene at Lon- don bridge, which is alwaies the messenger of 175 tempests, he sayes. Pet. A porcpisce ! — whats that to th' pur- pose ? Charge him, if he love his life, to attend us; can we not reach Blackewall (where my ship lyes) against the tide, and in spight of tempests ?i8o Captaines and gentlemen, wee'll begin a new ceremony at the beginning of our voyage, which I beleeve will be followd of all future adven- turers. Sea. Whats that, good colonell I! Pet. This, Captaine Seagull. Wee'll have our provided supper brought abord Sir Francis Drakes 78 (tettoam $?oe [act hi. ship, that hath compast the world ; where, with full cupps and banquets, we wil doe sacrifice for a prosperous voyage. My minde gives me that 190 some good spirits of the waters should hant the desart ribs of her, and be auspicious to all that honour her memorie, and will with like orgies enter their voyages. Sea. Rarely conceipted ! One health more 195 to this motion, and aboard to performe it. He that wil not this night be drunke, may he never be sober. They compasse in Wynnifrid, daunce the dronken round, and drinke carowses. Bram. Sir Petronell and his honourable cap- taines, in these young services we olde servitors 200 may bee spard. We onely came to take our leaves, and with one health to you all, He be bold to do so. Here, neighbour Securitie, to the health of Sir Petronell and all his captaines. Sec. You must bend then, Maister Bramble 5205 so now I am for you. I have one corner of my braine, I hope, fit to beare one carouse more. Here, lady, to you that are encompast there, and are asham'd of our company. Ha, ha, ha ! by my troth, my learn'd counsaile, Maister Bramble, 210 my minde runnes so of Cuckolds-haven to night, that my head runnes over with admiration. Bram. But is not that your wife, neighbour? Scene III] Ca0ttD3rD fQOt 79 Sec. No, by my troth, Maister Bramble. Ha, ha, ha! A pox of all Cuckolds-havens, 1 215 say ! Bram. A' my faith, her garments are exceed- ing like your wives. Sec. Cucullus no?i facit monachum, my learned counsaile; all are not cuckolds that seeme so, 220 nor all seeme not that are so. Give me your hand, my learn'd counsaile; you and I will supp some where else then at Sir Frances Drakes shipp to night. Adue, my noble gossip. Bram. Good fortune, brave captaines ; faire225 skies God send yee ! Ofnnes. Farewell, my harts, farewell ! Pet. Gossip, laugh no more at Cuckolds- haven, gossip. Sec. I have done, I have done, sir; will you 230 leade Maister Bramble ? Ha, ha, ha ! Exit. Pet. Captaine Seagull, charge a boate. Omnes. A boate, a boate, a boate ! Exeunt \_all except Drawer.] Draw. Y'are in a proper taking indeed, to take a boate, especially at this time of night, 235 and against tide and tempest. They say yet, " drunken men never take harme." This night will trie the truth of that proverbe. Exit. 80 C-asttoara ^oe [act hi. [Actus Tertius. Scena Quarta. Outside Security's House. J Enter Securitie. Security. What, Winnie ! — wife, I say! out dores at this time ! where should I seeke the gad-flye ? — Billingsgate, Billingsgate, Billings- gate ! Shee's gone with the knight, shee's gone with the knight ; woe be to thee, Billingsgate ! A boate ! a boate ! a boate ! a full hunderd markes for a boate ! Exit. ACTUS QUARTUS. Scena Prima. Enter Slitgut, with a paire of oxe homes, discover- ing Cuckolds-Haven above. Slitgut. All haile, faire haven of married men onely ! for there are none but married men cuckolds. For my part, I presume not to arrive here, but in my maisters behalfe (a poore butcher of East-cheape), who sends me to set 5 up (in honour of Saint Luke) these necessarie ensignes of his homage. And up I gat this morning, thus early, to get up to the toppe of this famous tree, that is all fruite and no leaves, to advance this crest of my maisters occupation. 10 Up then ; heaven and Saint Luke blesse me, that I be not blowne into the Thames as I clime, with this furious tempest. Slight ! I thinke the devill be abroade, in likenesse of a storme, to rob me of my homes ! Harke how he roares ! Lord ! 15 what a coyle the Thames keepes ! she beares some unjust burthen, I beleeve, that she kicks and curvets thus to cast it. Heaven blesse all honest passengers that are upon her back now; 82 (tottoaru ^oe [act iv. for the bitte is out of her mouth, I see, and shee 20 will runne away with 'hem ! So, so, I thinke I have made it looke the right way. It runnes against London-Bridge, as it were, even full butt. And now let mee discover from this loftie pros- pect, what pranckes the rude Thames playes in 25 her desperate lunacie. O me ! here's a boate has beene cast away hard by. Alas, alas, see one of her passengers labouring for his life to land at this haven here ! Pray heaven he may recover it ! His next land is even just under me. Hold 30 out yet a little, whatsoever thou art ; pray, and take a good heart to thee. Tis a man ; take a mans heart to thee ; yet a little further, get up a thy legges, man ; now tis shallowe enough. So, so, so ! Alas ! hee's downe againe. Hold 35 thy winde, father : tis a man in a night-cappe. So ! now hee's got up againe ; now hee's past the worst : yet, thankes be to heaven, he comes toward me pretie and strongly. Enter Securitie without his hat, in a night-cap, wett band, &c. Security. Heaven, I beseech thee, how have I 40 offended thee ! where am I cast ashore, nowe, that I may goe a righter way home by land ? Let 34 shalloive enough, Q3 enought. 36 a night-cappe, Qq. an. Scene I.] (totfojarD $?0e 83 me see; O I am scarce able to looke about me : where is there any sea-marke that I am acquainted withall ? 45 Slit. Looke up, father; are you acquainted with this marke ? Sec. What ! landed at Cuckolds Haven ! Hell and damnation ! I will runne backe and drowne my selfe. He fa Iks downe. 50 Slit. Poore man, how weake hee is ! the weake water has washt away his strength. Sec. Landed at Cuckolds Haven ! If it had not bin to die twentie times alive, I should never have scapt death ! I will never arise more ; I 55 will grovell here and eate durt till I be choak't ; I will make the gentle earth doe that which the cruell water has denied me ! Slit. Alas, good father, be not so desperate ! Rise man ; if you will, lie come presently and 60 lead you home. Sec. Home ! shall I make any know my home that has knowne me thus abrode ? How lowe shall I crouch away, that no eye may see mee ? I will creepe on the earth while I live, and never 65 looke heaven in the face more. Exit creep\_ing.~\ Slit. What yong planet raignes now, troe, that olde men are so foolish ? What desperate 52, 58 has, Qz ha's. 84 Caattoara lljoe [act iv. yong swaggerer would have bin abroad such a wether as this, upon the water? Ay me, see 70 another remnant of this unfortunate ship-wrack ! or some other. A woman, yfaith, a woman ; though it be almost at Sfaint] Kath'rins, I dis- cerne it to be a woman, for al her bodie is above the water, and her clothes swim about her most 75 handsomely. O, they beare her up most bravely ! Has not a woman reason to love the taking up of her cloathes the better while she lives, for this ? Alas, how busie the rude Thames is about her ! A pox a' that wave ! it wil drowne her, 80 yfaith, twill drowne her ! Crye God mercie, shee has scapt it ! I thanke heaven she has scapt it ! O how she swimmes like a mermaide ! Some vigilant body looke out and save her. That's well said ; just where the priest fell in, 85 there's one sets downe a ladder, and goes to take her up. Gods blessing a thy heart, boy ! Now take her up in thy armes and to bedde with her. Shee's up, shee's up ! Shee's a beautifull woman, I warrant her; the billowes durst not devoure 90 her. Enter the Drawer in the Taverne before, with Wynnyfrid. Drawer. How fare you now, lady ? Winifred. Much better, my good friende, then Scene I] (totfcOart) tyOt 85 I wishe ; as one desperate of her fame, now my life is preserv'd. 95 Draw. Comfort your selfe : that Power that preserved you from death can likewise defend you from infamie, howsoever you deserve it. Were not you one that tooke bote late this night, with a knight and other gentlemen at Billings- 100 gate ? Win. Unhappy that I am, I was. Draw. I am glad it was my good happe to come downe thus farre after you, to a house of my friends heere in S[aint] Kath'rines, since 1 105 am now happily made a meane to your rescue from the ruthlesse tempest, which (when you tooke bote) was so extreame, and the gentleman that brought you forth so desperate and unsober, that I fear'd long ere this I should heare of your no ship-wracke, and therefore (with little other rea- son) made thus farre this way. And this I must tell you, since perhappes you may make use of it, there was left behinde you at our taverne, brought by a porter (hyr'd by the yong gentle- 115 man. that brought you), a gentlewomans gowne, hat, stockings, and shooes ; which if they be yours, and you please to shift you, taking a hard bed here in this house of my friend, I will pre- sently goe fetch you. 120 Win. Thanks, my good friend, for your more 86 (tottoart) H?oe [act iv. then good newes. The gowne with all things bounde with it are myne ; which if you please to fetch as you have promist, I will bouldly re- ceive the kinde favour you have offered till your 125 returne ; intreating you, by all the good you have done in preserving me hitherto, to let none take knowledge of what favour you doe me, or where such a one as I am bestowed, lest you incurre mee much more damage in my fame than you 130 have done me pleasure in preserving my life. Draw. Come in, lady, and shift your selfe; resolve that nothing but your owne pleasure shall bee usde in your discovery. Win. Thanck you, good friende ; the time 135 may come, I shall requite you. Exeunt. Slit. See, see, see ! I hold my life, there's some other a taking up at Wapping now ! Looke, what a sort of people cluster about the gallows there! in good troth it is so. O me! a fine 140 yong gentleman ! What, and taken up at the gallowes ! Heaven graunt he be not one day taken downe there ! A my life, it is omenous ! Well, hee is delivered for the time. I see the people have all left him ; yet will I keepe my 145 prospect awhile, to see if any more have bin shipwrackt. scene i] (tottoaru ^oe 87 Enter Quick [silver] bareheade. Quicksilver. Accurs't that ever I was sav'd or borne ! How fatall is my sad arrivall here ! As if the starres and Providence spake to mee, 150 And sayd, " The drift of all unlawfull courses (What ever ende they dare propose themselves, In frame of their licentious policyes), In the firme order of just Destinie, They are the ready highwayes to our ruines." 155 I know not what to doe ; my wicked hopes Are, with this tempest, torne up by the rootes. O, which way shall I bend my desperate steppes, In which unsufferable shame and miserie Will not attend them ? I will walke this banck, 160 And see if I can meete the other reliques Of our poore ship-wrackt crew, or heare of them. The knight, alas ! was so farre gone with wine, And th' other three, that I refus'de their bote, And tooke the haplesse woman in another, 165 Who cannot but be suncke, whatever Fortune Hath wrought upon the others desperate lives. [Exit.] Enter Petronel, and Seagul, bareheaded. Petronel. Zounds ! Captaine, I tell thee we are cast up o'the coast of France. Sfoote ! I am Enter ^uicisil'ver, Qz Euter. 88 (tottoaru J?oe [act iv. not drunke still, I hope. Dost remember where 170 we were last night ? Seagull. No, by my troth, knight, not I ; but me thinkes wee have bin a horrible while upon the water and in the water. Pet. Aye me! we are undone forever! Hast 175 any money about thee ? Sea. Not a pennie, by Heaven ! Pet. Not a pennie betwixt us, and cast ashore in France ! Sea. Faith, I cannot tell that; my brainesiSo nor mine eyes are not mine owne yet. Enter 2 Gentlemen. Pet. Sfoote ! wilt not beleeve me ? I know't by th' elevation of the pole, and by the altitude and latitude of the climate. See, here comes a coople of French gentlemen; I knew we were 185 in France ; dost thou think our Englishmen are so Frenchyfied, that a man knowes not whether he be in France or in England, when he sees 'hem ? What shal we doe ? We must eene to 'hem, and intreat some reliefe of 'hem. Life 190 is sweete, and we have no other meanes to re- lieve our lives now but their charities. Sea. Pray you, do you beg on 'hem then ; you can speak French. Pet. Monsieur, plaist il davoir pitie de nostreiys Scene I. ] C'aSftiDtirD tyOZ 89 grande infortunes. *Je suis un povre chevalier cF Angleterre qui a souffri Yinfortune de naufrage. 1 Gent. Un povre chevalier cT Angleterre ? \Pet.~\ Oui, monsieur , /'/ est trop vraye ; mais vous scaves bien nous somes toutes subject a fortune. 200 2 Gent. A poore knight of England ? — a poore knight of Windsore, are you not ? Why speake you this broken French, when y'are a whole Englishman ? On what coaste are you, thinke you ? 20 5 Pet. On the coast of France, sir. / Gent. On the cost of Doggs, sir; y'are ith He a Doggs, I tell you. I see y'ave bene washt in the Thames here, and I beleeve ye were drownd in a taverne before, or els you would 210 never have tooke bote in such a dawning as this was. Farewell, farewell ; we wil not know you for shaming of you. I ken the man weel ; hee's one of my thirty pound knights. 2 Gent. No, no, this is he that stole his 21 5 knighthood o'the grand day for foure pound given to a page ; all the money in's purse, I wot well. Exeunt. Sea. Death! Collonell, I knew you were over shot. 22 ° Pet. Sure I thinke now, indeede, Captaine Seagull, we were something overshot. 198 Angleterre, Qq, Angliterre. 217 given to a page, Qq. giving. 90 (tottoaru i£oe [act iv. Enter Quicksilver. What ! my sweete Franck Quicksilver ! dost thou survive to rejoyce me ? But what ! no bodie at thy heels, Franck ? Ay me ! what is become 225 of poore Mistresse Securitie ? Quicksilver. Faith, gone quite from her name, as she is from her fame, I thinke ; I left her to the mercie of the water. Sea. Let her goe, let her goe ! Let us go to 230 our ship at Blackwall, and shift us. Pet. Nay, by my troth, let our clothes rotte upon us, and let us rotte in them ; twentie to one our ship is attacht by this time. If we set her not under saile this last tide, I never lookt235 for any other. Woe, woe is me ! what shall become of us ? The last money we could make, the greedy Thams has devourde; and if our ship be attach't, there is no hope can relieve us. £htick. Sfoot, knight! what an un-knightly24o faintnesse transports thee! Let our ship sinck, and all the world thats without us be taken from us, I hope I have some tricks in this braine of mine shall not let us perish. Sea. Well said, Francke, yfaith. O my nim-245 ble-spirited Quicksilver ! Fore God, would thou hadst beene our colonell ! Pet. I like his spirit rarely ; but I see no meanes he has to support that spirit. scene i. ] (tettoara H?oe 91 Quick. Go to, knight! I have more meanes2so then thou art aware off. I have not liv'd amongst gould-smiths and gould-makers all this while but I have learned something worthy of my time with 'hem. And not to let thee stinck where thou standst, knight, He let thee know some of 255 my skill presently. Sea. Doe, good Francke, I beseech thee. Quick. I will blanche copper so cunningly that it shall endure all proofes but the test : it shall endure malleation, it shal have the ponder- 260 ositie of Luna, and the tenacitie of Luna, by no meanes friable. Pet. Slight ! where learn'st thou these tearmes, tro ? Quick. Tush, knight! the tearmes of this 265 arte every ignorant quack-salver is perfect in ; but He tell you how your selfe shal blanche cop- per thus cunningly. Take arsnicke, otherwise called realga (which indeede is plaine ratsbane) ; sublime 'hem three or foure times, then take the 270 sublimate of this realga and put 'hem into a glasse, into chymia, and let 'hem have a con- venient decoction naturall, foure and twentie houres, and he will become perfectly fixt ; then take this fixed powder, and project him upon 275 wel-purgd copper, et habehis magisterium. Ajnbo. Excellent Francke, let us hugge thee ! 92 Casttoarn ^oe [act iv. Quick. Nay, this I will do besides. He take you off twelvepence from every angell, with a kind of aqua forth, and never deface any part of 280 the image. Pet. But then it will want weight ? Quick. You shall restore that thus : take your sal achyme prepar'd, and your distild urine, and let your angels lie in it but foure and twenty 285 howres, and they shall have their perfect weight againe. Come on, now ; I hope this is enough to put some spirit into the livers of you ; He in- fuse more another time. We have saluted the proud ayre long enough with our bare skonces.290 Now will I have you to a wenches house of mine at London, there make shift to shift us, and after, take such fortunes as the stars shal assigne us. Ambo. Notable Franck, we will ever adore 295 thee ! Exeunt. Enter Drawer, with IVynifrid new attird. Winifred. No we, sweete friende, you have brought me nere enough your tavcrne, which I desired I might with some colour be seene neare, enquiring for my husband, who (I must 300 tel you) stale thither last night with my wet gowne we have left at your friends, — which, to 301 stale thither, Q3 stole. scene i] Casttoaru $?oe 93 continue your former honest kindnes, let me pray you to keepe close from the knowledge of any : and so, with all vow of your requitall, let 305 me now entreate you to leave me to my womans wit and fortune. Draiver. All shall be done you desire ; and so all the fortune you can wish for attend you. Exit Draw\_er~^. Enter Securitie. Security. I wil once more to this unhappy tav-310 erne before I shift one ragge of me more ; that I may there know what is left behind, and what newes of their passengers. I have bought me a hat and band with the little money I had about me, and made the streets a litle leave staring at 315 my night-cap. Win. O, my deare husband ! where have you bin to night ? Al night abroade at tavernes ! Rob me of my garments ! and fare as one run away from me ! Ahlas ! is this seemely for a 320 man of your credit, of your age, and affection to your wife ? Sec. What should I say ? how miraculously sorts this ! was not I at home, and cald thee last night ? 3 2 5 Win. Yes, sir, the harmelesse sleepe you broke ; and my answer to you would have wit- 94 (tottoaru J?oe [act iv. nest it, if you had had the pacience to have staid and answered me ; but your so sodaine retreate made me imagine you were gone to Maiste^o Brambles, and so rested patient and hopefull of your comming againe, till this your unbeleeved absence brought me abroade with no lesse then wonder, to seeke you where the false knight had carried you. 335 Sec. Villaine and monster that I was ! Howe have I abus'd thee ! I was sodainly gone in- deede; for my sodaine jelousie transferred me. I will say no more but this, deare wife, I sus- pected thee. 34.0 Win. Did you suspect me ? Sec. Talke not of it, I beseech thee ; I am ashamed to imagine it. I will home, I will home; and every morning on my knees aske thee hartely forgivenes. Exeunt. 345 \_Slitgut.~\ Nowe will I descend my hon- ourable prospect ; the farthest seeing sea marke of the world : noe marvaile, then, if I could see two miles about me. I hope the redde tem- pests anger be nowe over blowne, which sure, 350 I thinke, Heaven sent as a punishment for prophaning holy Saint Lukes memorie with so ridiculous a custome. Thou dishonest satyre ! 329 retreate, Q3 retrait. 347 farthest, Q2 farthiest ; Qj farthyest. Scene II.] (tottoatf) &O0 95 Farewel to honest married men, farewel to all sorts and degrees of thee! Farewel thou home 355 of hunger, that calst th' inns a court to their manger ! Farewel, thou home of aboundance, that adornest the headsmen of the common- wealth ! Farewell, thou home of direction, that is the cittie lanthorne ! Farewell, thou home of 3 6 ° pleasure, the ensigne of the huntsman ! Fare- well, thou home of destinie, th' ensigne of the married man ! Farewell, thou home tree, that bearest nothing but stone fruite ! Exit. [Actus Quartus. Scena Secunda. A Room in Touchstone's House.! Enter Touchstone. Touchstone. Ha, sirah ! thinkes my knight ad- venturer we can no point of our compasse ? Doe wee not knowe north-north-east, north-east and by east, east and by north, nor plaine east- ward ? Ha ! have we never heard of Virginia, 5 nor the Cavallaria, nor the Colonoria ? Can we discover no discoveries ? Well, mine errant Sir Flash, and my runnagate Quicksilver, you may drinke dronke, crack Cannes, hurle away a browne dozen of Monmouth capps or so, in sea- io ceremonie to your boon voyage; but for reaching 6 nor the Colonoria, Qz not. 96 CastfoarD H?oe [act iv. any coast, save the coast of Kent or Essex, with this tide, or with this fleete, He be your warrant for a Gravesend tost. There's that gone afore wil stay your admiral and vice-admirall and 15 rere-admirall, were they al (as they are) but one pinnace, and under saile, as wel as a remora, doubt it not ; and from this sconce, without eyther pouder or shot. Worke upon that now. Nay, and you'll shew trickes, wee'l vie with 20 you a little. My daughter, his lady, was sent eastward by land to a castle of his i' the ayre (in what region I knowe not), and, as I heare, was glad to take up her lodging in her coach, she and her two waiting women, her maide, and her 25 mother, like three snailes in a shell, and the coachman a top on 'hem, I thinke. Since they have all found the way back againe by Weep- ing Crosse; but He not see 'hem. And for two on 'hem, madam and her malkin, they are like 30 to bite o' the bridle for William, as the poore horses have done al this while that hurried 'hem, or else go graze o' the common. So should my Dame Touchstone too ; but she has bene my crosse these thirty yeares, and He now keepe 35 her to fright away sprights, ifaith. I wonder I heare no news of my sonne Goulding. He was sent for to the Guild-hall this morning betimes, and I marvaile at the matter ; if I had not layd Scene II.] (tottoatf) tyOt 97 up comfort and hope in him, I should grow 40 desperate of al. See, he is come i' my thought ! How now, sonne ? What newes at the Court of Aldermen ? Enter Goulding. Golding. Troth, sir, an accident somewhat strange, els it hath litle in it worth the reporting. 45 Touch. What ? It is not borrowing of money then ? Gold. No, sir ; it hath pleasd the worshipful commoners of the citty to take me one i' their number at presentation of the inquest 5° Touch. Ha ! Gold. And the alderman of the warde wherein I dwel to appoint me his deputy Touch. Howe ? Gold. In which place I have had an oath 55 ministred me, since I went. Touch. Now, my deare and happy sonne, let me kisse thy new worship, and a litle boast mine own happines in thee. What a fortune was it (or rather my judgment, indeed), for me, 60 first to see that in his disposition which a whole citty so conspires to second! Tane into the livory of his company the first day of his free- dome ! Now (not a weeke maried), chosen 57, 58 let me kisse, Qi let we. 98 (tottoaru J?oe [act iv. commoner and aldermans deputie in a day ! 65 Note but the reward of a thrifty course ! The wonder of his time ! Wei, I will honour M [as- ter] Alderman for this act (as becomes me), and shall think the better of the Common Coun- cels wisdome and worship, while I live, for thus 70 meeting, or but comming after me, in the opin- ion of his desert. Forward, my sufficient sonne ! and as this is the first, so esteeme it the least step to that high and prime honour that expects thee. 75 Gold. Sir, as I was not ambitious of this, so I covet no higher place ; it hath dignity enough, if it will but save me from contempt ; and I had rather my bearing in this or any other of- fice should adde worth to it then the place give 80 the least opinion to me. Touch. Excellently spoken ! This modest answer of thine blushes, as if it said, I will weare scarlet shortly. Worshipfull sonne ! I can- not containe my selfe, I must tell thee ; I hope 85 to see thee one o' the monuments of our citty, and reckon'd among her worthies, to be remem- bred the same day with the Lady Ramsey and grave Gresham, when the famous fable of Whittington and his pusse shalbe forgotten, 90 and thou and thy actes become the posies for hospitals ; when thy name shall be written upon Scene II.] CagttjOarD fyQt 99 conduits, and thy deeds plaid i' thy lifetime by the best companies of actors, and be call'd their get-peny. This I divine ; this I prophecie. 95 Gold. Sir, engage not your expectation farder then my abilities will answere ; I, that know mine owne strengths, feare 'hem ; and there is so seldome a losse in promising the least that commonly it brings with it a welcome deceipt. ioo I have other newes for you, sir. Touch. None more welcome, I am sure ? Gold. They have their degree of welcome, I dare affirme. The colonell and all his com- pany, this morning putting forth drunke from 105 Belinsgate, had like to have been cast away o' this side Greenwich ; and (as I have intelligence by a false brother) are come dropping to towne like so many masterlesse men, i' their doublets and hose, without hatte, or cloake, or any no other Touch. A miracle! the justice of Heaven! Where are they ? Lets goe presently and lay for 'hem. Gold. I have done that already, sir, both by 115 constables and other officers, who shall take 'hem at their old Anchor, and with lesse tumult or suspition then if your selfe were seene in't, under coulour of a great presse that is now abroad, and they shall here be brought afore me. 120 ioo (tettoara l^oe [activ. Touch. Prudent and politique sonne ! Dis- grace 'hem all that ever thou canst ; their ship I have already arrested. How to my wish it falls out that thou hast the place of a justicer upon 'hem ! I am partly glad of the injury done to 125 me, that thou maist punish it. Be severe i' thy place, like a new officer o' the first quarter, un- reflected. You heare how our lady is come back with her traine from the invisible castle ? Gold. No, where is she? 130 Touch. Within ; but I ha' not seene her yet, nor her mother, who now begins to wish her daughter undub'd, they say, and that she had walkd a foot-pase with her sister. Here they come; stand back. 135 Touchstone, Mistresse Touchstone, Gyrtrude, Gould- ing, Mildred, Syndefie. God save your ladiship ; save your good ladiship ! Your ladiship is welcome from your inchanted castell, so are your beautious retinew. I heare your knight errant is travayld on strange adventures. Surely, in my minde, your 140 ladiship hath fish 'dfiaire, and caught a frog, as the saying is. Mistress Touchstone. Speake to your father, madam, and kneele downe. 126 fthy, Q3 ithy. Scene II] Ca0ti»arD tyOt IOI Gertrude. Kneele ? I hope I am not brought 145 so low yet ; though my knight be run away, and has sold my land, I am a lady stil. Touch. Your ladiship says true, madam ; and it is fitter and a greater decorum, that I should curtsie to you that are a knights wife, and a 150 lady, then you be brought a' your knees to me, who am a poore cullion and your father. Ger. Law ! my father knowes his duty. Mist. T. O child ! Touch. And therefore I doe desire your ladi- 155 ship, my good Lady Flash, in all humility, to depart my obscure cottage, and returne in quest of your bright and most transparent castell, how ever presently conceald to mortall eyes. And as for one poore woman of your traine here, 1 160 will take that order, she shall no longer be a charge unto you, nor helpe to spend your ladi- ship ; she shall stay at home with me, and not goe abroad, not put you to the pawning of an odde coach horse or three wheeles, but take part 165 with the Touchstone. If we lacke, we wil not complaine to your ladiship. And so, good madam, with your damoselle here, please you to let us see your straight backs in equipage ; for truly here is no roust for such chickens asi 7 o 102 (tettoarD $?oe [a ct iv. you are, or birds o' your feather, if it like your ladiship. Ger. Mary, fyste o' your kindnesse ! I thought as much. Come away, Sinne, we shall as soone get a fart from a dead man, as a far- 17s thing of court'sie here. Mildred. O, good sister ! Ger. Sister, Sir Reverence ! Come away, I say, hunger drops out at his nose. Gold. O, madam, Fa'ire words never hurt the 180 tongue. Ger. How say you by that ? You come out with your golde ends now ! Mist. T. Stay, lady-daughter; good husband! Touch. Wife, no man loves his fetters, be 185 they made of gold. I list not ha' my head fast- ned under my childs girdle ; as she has brew'd, so let her drinke, a Gods name. She went wit- lesse to wedding, now she may goe wisely a beg- ging. It's but honymoone yet with her ladiship ; 190 she has coach horses, apparell, jewels, yet left ; she needs care for no friends, nor take know- ledge of father, mother, brother, sister, or any body. When those are pawn'd or spent, per- haps we shall returne into the list of her acquaint- 195 ance. Ger. I scorne it, ifaith. Come, Sinne. Exit Gyrt\rude, and Sindefy.^ scene ii] CastuoarD H?oe 103 Mist. T. O madam, why do you provoke your father thus ? Touch. Nay, nay ; eene let pride goe afore, 200 shame wil follow after, I warrant you. Come, why doost thou weepe now ? Thou art not the first good cow hast had an ill calfe, I trust. [Exit Mistress Touchstone.] What's the newes with that fellow ? 205 Enter Constable. Constable. Sir, the knight and your man Quickesilver are without ; will you ha 'hem brought in ? Touch. O, by any meanes. [Exit Constable.] And, sonne, here's a chaire ; appeare terrible 210 unto 'hem on the first enterview. Let them behold the melancholy of a magistrate, and taste the fury of a citizen in office. Gold. Why, sir, I can do nothing to 'hem, except you charge 'hem with somwhat. 2I 5 Touch. I will charge 'hem and recharge 'hem, rather then authority should want foyle to set it of. [Offers Golding a chair.] Gold. No, good sir, I will not. Touch. Sonne, it is your place; by any 220 meanes Gold. Beleeve it, I will not, sir. 104 CaattoarD $?oe [a ct iv. Enter Knight Petronell, £)uickesilver, Constable^ Officers. Petronel. How misfortune pursues us still in our misery ! Quicksilver. Would it had beene my fortune 225 to have beene trust up at Wapping rather then ever ha' come here ! Pet. Or mine to have famisht in the Hand ! £)uick. Must Goulding sit upon us ? Constable. You might carry an M. under your 230 girdle to Maister Deputis worship. Gold. What are those, Maister Constable ? Con. And't please your worship, a couple of maisterlesse men I prest for the Low-Countries, sir. 235 Gold. Why do you not cary 'hem to Bride- well, according to your order, they may be shipt away ? Con. An't please your worship, one of 'hem sayes he is a knight; and we thought good to 240 shew him to your worship, for our discharge. Gold. Which is he ? Con. This, sir. Gold. And what's the other ? Con. A knights fellow, sir, an't please you. 245 Gold. What ! a knight and his fellow thus ac- coutred ? Where are their hattes and feathers, their rapiers and their cloakes ? Scene II] CaStta!) fyOZ IO5 ghiick. O, they mock us. Con. Nay, truely, sir, they had cast both their 250 feathers and hattes too, before wee see 'hem. Here's all their furniture, an't please you, that we found. They say knights are now to be knowne without feathers, like cockrels by their spurres, sir. 255 Gold. What are their names, say they ? Touch. Very well this. He should not take knowledge of 'hem in his place, indeed. Con. This is Sir Petronell Plash. Touch. How ! 260 Con. And this, Francis Ouickesilver. Touch. Is't possible ? I thought your wor- ship had beene gone for Virginia, sir ; you are welcome home, sir. Your worship has made a quick returne, it seemes, and no doubt a good 265 voyage. Nay, pray you be cover'd, sir. How did your bisquet hold out, sir ? Me thought I had seene this gentleman afore. Good Maister Quickesilver, how a degree to the southward has chang'd you ! 27° Gold. Doe you know 'hem, father ? Forbeare your offers a litle, you shall be heard anon. Touch. Yes, Maister Deputy ; I had a small venture with them in the voyage — a thing cald a sonne in lawe, or so. Officers, you may let 275 ! hem stand alone, they will not runne away ; He 106 CasttoarD J?oe [a ct iv. give my word for them. A couple of very hon- est gentlemen. One of 'hem was my prentise, M [aster] Quicksilver here ; and when he had 2 yeare to serve, kept his whore and his hunting 280 nag, would play his 100. pound at gresco, or primero, as familiarly (and al a' my purse) as any bright peice of crimson on 'hem all ; had his changable trunks of apparel standing at liv- ery, with his mare, his chest of perfumd linnen,285 and his bathing tubbs, which when I told him off, why he, — he was a gentleman, and I a poore Cheapeside groome ! The remedie was, we must part. Since when, he hath had the gift of gathering up some small parcels of mine, to the 290 value of 500. pound, disperst among my cus- tomers, to furnish this his Virginian venture ; wherein this knight was the chiefe, Sir Flash — one that married a daughter of mine, ladefied her, turn'd two-thousand poundes worth of good land 295 of hers into cash within the first weeke, bought her a new gowne and a coach ; sent her to seeke her fortune by land, whilst himselfe prepared for his fortune by sea ; tooke in fresh flesh at Belingsgate, for his owne diet, to serve him the 300 whole voyage — the wife of a certaine usurer cald Securitie, who hath bene the broker for 'hem in all this businesse. Please, Maister Deputy, worke upon that now. scene ii] (H^asfttDarD J^oe 107 Gold. If my worshipfull father have ended. 305 Touch. I have, it shall please M [aster] Dep- uty. Gold. Well then, under correction Touch. Now, sonne, come over 'hem with some fine guird, as thus, " Knight, you shall be 310 encountred," that is, had to the Counter ; or, " Quicksilver, I will put you in a crucible," or so. Gold. Sir Petronell Flash, I am sory to see such flashes as these proceede from a gentleman 315 of your quality and rancke ; for mine own part, I could wish I could say I could not see them ; but such is the misery of magistrates and men in place, that they must not winke at offenders. Take him aside ; I wil heare you anone, sir. 320 Touch. I like this wel, yet ; there's some grace i' the knight left, he cries. Gold. Francis Quick-silver, would God thou hadst turnd quack-salver, rather then run into these dissolute and lewd courses ! It is great 325 pitty ; thou art a proper yong man, of an honest and cleane face, somewhat neere a good one ; God hath done his part in thee ; but thou haste made too much, and beene to proud of that face, with the rest of thy body; for maintenance of 330 which in neate and garish attire, onely to be look'd upon by some light housewifes, thou hast 108 CasttoarD J?oe [a ct iv. prodigally consumed much of thy masters estate ; and being by him gently admonish'd at several times, hast returnd thy selfe haughty and rebel- 335 lious in thine answers, thundring out uncivill com- parisons, requiting al his kindnes with a course and harsh behaviour ; never returning thanks for any one benefit, but receiving all as if they had bin debts to thee, and no courtesies. I must tel 340 thee, Francis, these are manifest signes of an ill nature ; and God doth often punish such pride and outrecui dance with scorne and infamy, which is the worst of misfortune. My worshipfull father, what do you please to charge them with- 345 all ? From the presse I wil free 'hem, Maister Constable. Con. Then He leave your worship, sir. Gold. No, you may stay ; there will be other matters against 'hem. 350 Touch. Sir, I do charge this gallant, Maister Quicksilver, on suspicion of felony ; and the knight as being accessary in the receipt of my goods. Quick. O God, sir! 355 Touch. Hold thy peace, impudent varlot, hold thy peace ! With what forehead or face dost thou offer to choppe logick with me, having run such a race of riot as thou hast done ? Do's not the sight of this worshipful mans fortune 360 Scene II.] (toXtoatf) %W IO9 and temper confound thee, that was thy yonger fellow in houshold, and now come to have the place of a judge upon thee ? Dost not observe this ? Which of al thy gallants and gamsters, thy swearers and thy swaggerers, will come now3 6 5 to mone thy misfortune, or pitty thy penurie ? They'le looke out at a window, as thou rid'st in triumph to Tiborne, and crye, " Yonder goes honest Franck, mad Ouicksilver ! " " He was a free boone companion, when hee had 370 money," sayes one ; " Hang him, foole ! " saies another ; " he could not keepe it when he had it ! " "A pox o'the cullion, his Master," sais a third, " he has brought him to this ; " when their pox of pleasure, and their piles of perdition, 375 would have bene better bestowed upon thee, that hast ventred for 'hem with the best, and by the clew of thy knavery brought thyselfe weeping to the cart of calamity. ghiick. Worshipfull maister! 3 8 ° Touch. Offer not to speake, crocodile ; I will not heare a sound come from thee. Thou hast learnt to whine at the play yonder. Maister Deputy, pray you commit 'hem both to safe custody, till I be able farther to charge 'hem. 3 8 5 £)uick. O me ! what an infortunate thing am I ! 372 keepe it, Q2 keeepe. 373 o'the cullion, Q3 oth ; his Master, Qq. his M r . no dBasitinarti tyot [activ. Pet. Will you not take security, sir? Touch. Yes, mary, will I, Sir Flash, if I can find him, and charge him as deepe as the best 390 on you. He has beene the plotter of all this ; he is your inginer, I heare. Maister Deputy, you'll dispose of these. In the meane time, He to my Lo[rd] Mayor, and get his warrant to seize that serpent Securitie into my hands, and 395 seale up both house and goods to the kings use or my satisfaction. Gold. Officers, take 'hem to the Counter. Quick., Pet. O God ! Touch. Nay, on, on ; you see the issue of 4 00 your sloth. Of sloth commeth pleasure, of pleasure commeth riot, of ryot comes whoring, of whoring comes spending, of spending comes want, of want comes theft, of theft comes hang- ing ; and there is my Quickesilver fixt. 4°5 Exeunt. ACTUS QUINTUS. Scena Prima. [Gertrude's Lodging. ] [Enter~\ Gertrude [and~\ Syndefie. Gertrude. Ah, Sinne ! hast thou ever read i'the chronicle of any lady and her waiting-woman driven to that extremity that we are, Sinne ? Sindefy. Not I, truely, madam ; and if I had, it were but colde comfort should come out of 5 bookes, now. Ger. Why, good faith, Sinne, I could dine with a lamentable storie, now. O hone, hone, no nera ! &c. Canst thou tell nere a one, Synne ? 10 Sin. None but mine owne, madam, which is lamentable inough : first to be stolne from my friends, which were worshipfull and of good accompt, by a prentise in the habite and dis- guise of a gentleman, and here brought up to 15 London, and promis'd mariage, and now likely to be forsaken, for he is in possibility to be hangd ! Ger. Nay, weepe not, good Sinne ; my Pe- n2 (tottoaru n?oe [a ct v. tronell is in as good possibilitie as he. Thy miseries are nothing to mine, Sinne ; I was more 20 than promis'd marriage, Sinne; I had it, Sinne; and was made a lady ; and by a knight, Sin ; which is now as good as no knight, Sin. And I was borne in London, which is more then brought up, Sin ; and already forsaken, which is 25 past likelihood, Sin ; and instead of land i' the countrey, all my knights living lies i' the counter, Syn ; there's his castle now ! Sin. Which hee cannot be forc't out off, madam. 3° Ger. Yes, if he would live hungry a weeke or two. Hunger, they say, breakes stone ivals. But he is eene wel inough serv'd, Sin, that so soone as ever he had got my hand to the sale of my inheritance, run away from me, and I 35 had bene his punke, God blesse us ! Would the knight o' the sunne, or Palmerin of England, have usd their ladies so, Syn ? or Sir Lancelot, or Sir Tristram ? Sin. I doe not know, madam. 4° Ger. Then thou know'st nothing, Syn. Thou art a foole, Syn. The knighthood now a daies are nothing like the knighthood of old time. They rid a horseback ; ours goe a foote. They were attended by their squires ; ours by their 45 41 Ger. Qz Gry. 45 Ours, Qz our. Scene I.] (tottoatD $>0e H3 lacquaies. They went buckled in their armor; ours muffled in their cloaks. They travaild wildernesses and desarts ; ours dare scarce walke the streets. They were stil prest to engage their honour ; ours stil ready to paune their cloaths. 5° They would gallop on at sight of a monster; ours run away at sight of a serjeant. They would helpe poore ladies ; ours make poore la- dies. Sin. I, madam, they were knights of the 55 Round-Table at Winchester, that sought ad- ventures ; but these of the Square Table at ordinaries, that sit at hazard. Ger. True, Syn ; let him vanish. And tel me, what shal we pawne next ? 60 Sin. I, mary, madam, a timely consideration ; for our hostes (prophane woman !) has sworne by bread and salt, she will not trust us another meale. Ger. Let it stinke in her hand then. He not 65 be beholding to her. Let me see ; my jewels be gone, and my gownes, and my red velvet petti- cote that I was maried in, and my wedding silke stockings, and al thy best apparel, poore Syn ! Good faith, rather then thou shouldest pawne a 7° ragge more, Il'd lay my ladiship in lavender — if I knew where. 59 True, Syn, Q3 Trie. 71 IP J lay, Q3 Il'e lay. 1 14 (tottoarD l?oe [act v. Sin. Alas, madam, your ladiship! Ger. I, why ? You do not scorne my ladi- ship, though it is in a wastcoate ? Gods my 75 life ! you are a peate indeed ! Do I offer to morgage my ladiship for you and for your availe, and do you turne the lip and the alas to my ladiship ? Sin. No, madam ; but I make question who 80 will lend any thing upon it ? Ger. Who ? Marry, inow, I warrant you, if you'le seeke 'hem out. I'm sure I remember the time when I would ha' given a thousand pound (if I had had it) to have bin a ladie ; and I hope 85 I was not bred and borne with that appetite alone : some other gentle-borne o' the citie have the same longing, I trust. And for my part, I would afford 'hem a peny'rth; my ladiship is little the worse for the wearing, and yet I would 90 bate a good deale of the summe. I would lend it (let me see) for 40 li. in hand, Syn ; that would apparell us; and ten pound a yeare ; that would keepe me and you, Syn (with our needles) ; and wee should never need to be beholding to our 95 scirvy parents. Good Lord ! that there are no fayries now adayes, Syn. Sin. Why, madame ? Ger. To doe miracles, and bring ladyes money. Sure, if wee lay in a cleanly house, they would 100 Scene 1] (totteD fyOt 1 1 5 haunt it, Synne ? He trie. He sweepe the cham- ber soone at night, and set a dish of water o' the hearth. A fayric may come, and bring a pearle, or a diamonde. Wee do not know, Syn. Or, there may be a pot of gold hid o' the backe-side, 105 if we had tooles to digge for't ? Why may not wee two rise early i' the morning, Syn, afore any body is up, and find a Jewell i' the streets worth a 100 li ? May not some great court- lady, as she comes from revels at midnight, lookeno out of her coach as 'tis running, and loose such a jewell, and wee finde it ? Ha ? Sin. They are prettie waking dreames, these. Ger. Or may not some olde usurer bee drunke over-night, with a bagge of money, and leave it 115 behinde him on a stall ? For God-sake, Syn, let's rise to morrow by breake of day, and see. I protest, law, if I had as much money as an alderman, I would scatter some on't i'th' streetes for poore ladyes to finde, when their knights 120 were layd up. And, nowe I remember my song o' the Golden Showre, why may not I have such a fortune ? He sing it, and try what luck I shall have after it. Fond fables tell of olde, 125 How fove in Danaes lappe Fell in a showre of gold, By which shee caught a clappe ; n6 (tettoatu J?oe [actv. O, had it been my hap, {How ere the blow doth threaten) l 1° So well I like the play, That I could wish all day And night to be so beaten. Enter Mistris Touchstone. heer's my mother ! Good lucke, I hope. Ha' you brought any money, mother? Pray you, 135 mother, your blessing. Nay, sweet mother, doe not weepe. Mistris Touchstone. God blesse you ! I would 1 were in my grave. Ger. Nay, deare mother, can you steale no 140 more money from my father ? Dry your eyes, and comfort me. Alas ! it is my knights fault, and not mine, that I am in a wast-coate, and attyred thus simply. Mist. T. Simply? Tis better then thou de-145 serv'st. Never whimper for the matter. Thou should' st have look 7/ before thou hadst leap't. Thou wert a fire to be a lady, and now your ladishippe and you may both blowe at the cole, for ought I know. Self e doe, selfe have. The hastie person 150 never wants woe, they say. Ger. Nay then mother, you should ha look'd to it. A bodie would thinke you were the 147 looked, Qi loook't. Scene I.] (tottOatf) tyQt H7 older! I did but my kinde, I. He was a knight, and I was fit to be a lady. Tis not lacke of 155 liking, but lacke of living, that severs us. And you talke like your selfe and a cittiner in this, yfaith. You shew what husband you come on, i-wys. You smell the Touch-stone — he that will doe more for his daughter that he has mar- 160 ryed [to] a scirvie gold-end man and his prentise, then he will for his t'other daughter, that has wedded a knight and his customer. By this light, I thinke hee is not my legittimate father. Sin. O good madam, doe not take up your 165 mother so ! Mist. T. Nay, nay, let her eene alone. Let her ladishippe grieve me still, with her bitter taunts and termes. I have not dole inough to see her in this miserable case, I, without her 170 velvet gownes, without ribbands, without jewels, without French-wires, or cheat bread, or quailes, or a little dog, or a genttleman usher, or any- thing, indeed, that's fit for a lady — Sin. [aside] Except her tongue. 175 Mist. T. And I not able to releive her, neither, being kept so short by my husband. Well, God knowes my heart. I did little thinke that ever shee should have had need of her sister Golding ! Ger. Why mother, I ha not yet. Alas! 180 good mother, bee not intoxicate for mee ; I am 161 [fo] a scirvie, Qq. omit to. n8 Caattoarfc tyot [a ct v. well inough ; I would not change husbands with my sister, I. The legge of a larke is better then the body of a kight. Mist. T. I know that, but 185 Ger. What, sweete mother, what ? Mist. T. It's but ill food, when nothing's left but the claw. Ger. That's true, mother. Aye me. Mist. T. Nay, sweete lady-bird, sigh not. 190 Child, madame ; why doe you weepe thus ? Bee of good cheere ; I shall die if you crye, and marre your complexion thus. Ger. Alas mother, what should I doe ? Mist. T. Goe to thy sister's, childe ; shee'lei95 be proude thy lady-ship will come under her roofe. Shee'le winne thy father to release thy knight, and redeeme thy gownes, and thy coach and thy horses, and set thee up againe. Ger. But will shee get him to set my knight 200 up too ? Mist. T. That shee will, or anything else thou'lt aske her. Ger. I will begin to love her if I thought she would doe this. 205 Mist. T. Try her, good chucke ; I warrant thee. Ger. Doost thou thinke shee'le doo't ? Sin. I, madame, and be glad you will re- ceive it. 210 Scene II] (totfcOatf) fiW I 19 Mist. T. That's a good mayden, shee tells you trew. Come, He take order for your debts i' the ale-house. Ger. Goe, Syn, and pray for thy Franck, as I will for my Pet. [Exeunt.~\%i$ [Actus Quintus. Scena Secunda. Goldsmith's Row.~\ Enter Touchstone, Goulding, Woolfe. Touchstone. I will receive no letters, M [aster] Woolf, you shal pardon me. Golding. Good father let me entreat you. Touch. Sonne Goulding, I will not be tempted ; I finde mine owne easie nature, and I 5 know not what a well-pend, subtile letter may worke upon it ; there may be tricks, packing, doe you see ? Returne with your packet, sir. Wolf. Beleeve it sir, you need feare no pack- ing here ; these are but letters of submission 10 all. Touch. Sir, I doe looke for no submission. I will beare my selfe in this like blinde Justice. Worke upon that now. When the sessions come, they shall heare from me. 15 Gold. From whom come your letters, M [as- ter] Woolfe ? 1 20 (tottoaru ^oe [act v. Wolf. And't please you, sir, one from Sir Petronell, another from Francis Quickesilver, and a third from old Securitie, who is almost 20 madde in prison. There are two to your wor- ship ; one from M [aster] Francis, sir, another from the knight. Touch. I doe wonder, M [aster] Woolfe, why you should travaile thus, in a businesse so con- 25 trarie to kinde, or the nature o' your place ; that you, beeing the keeper of a prison, should labour the release of your prisoners ; whereas, mee thinkes, it were farre more naturall and kindely in you to be ranging about for more, 30 and not let these scape you have alreadie under the tooth. But they say, you wolves, when you ha' suck't the blood, once that they are drie, you ha' done. Wolf. Sir, your worship may descant as you 35 please o' my name ; but I protest I was never so mortified with any mens discourse or be- haviour in prison ; yet I have had of all sorts of men i' the kingdome under my keyes ; and al- most of all religions i' the land, as Papist, Pro- 40 testant, Puritane, Brownist, Anabaptist, Mil- lenary, Famely o' Love, Jewe, Turke, Infidell, Atheist, Good Fellow, &c. Gold. And which of all these, thinkes M [as- ter] Woolfe, was the best religion? 45 scene ii] CasttoarD 11)00 121 Wolf. Troth, M [aster] Deputie, they that pay fees best : we never examine their con- sciences farder. Gold. I beleeve you, M [aster] Woolfe. Good faith, sir, here's a great deale of humil- 50 itie i' these letters ! Wolf. Humilitie, sir ? I. Were your wor- shippe an eye-witnesse of it you would say so. The knight will i' the Knights- Ward, doe what we can, sir ; and Maister Quickesilver would SS be i' the Hole if we would let him. I never knew or saw prisoners more penitent, or more devout. They will sit you up all night singing of psalmes, and aedifying the whole prison j onely Securitie sings a note to high sometimes, be- 60 cause he lyes i' the Two-penny Ward, farre of, and can not take his tune. The neighbours can not rest for him, but come every morning to aske what godly prisoners we have. Touch. Which on 'hem is't is so devout, the 65 knight or the t'other ? Wolf. Both, sir; but the young man espe- cially. I never heard his like. He has cut his hayre too. He is so well given, and has such good gifts. Hee can tell you, almost all the 70 stories of the Booke of Martyrs, and speake you all the Sicke-Mans Salve without booke. 66 C other, Qq. to'ther. 122 (tettoarfc S?oe [act v. Touch. I, if he had had grace — he was brought up where it grew, iwis. On, Maister Wolfe. Wolf. And he has converted one Fangs, a 75 Serjeant, a fellow could neither write nor read ; he was call'd the Bandog o' the Counter ; and he has brought him already to pare his nailes and say his prayers ; and 'tis hop'd, he will sell his place shortly, and become an intelligencer. 80 Touch. No more; I am comming allready. If I should give any farder eare, I were taken. Adue, good Maister Wolfe. Sonne, I doe feele mine owne weakenesses ; do not im- portune me. Pity is a rheume that I am sub- 85 ject too; but I will resist it. Maister Wolfe, Fish is cast away that is cast in drye pooles. Tell Hypocrisie, it will not do ; I have touchd and tried too often ; I am yet proofe, and I will re- maine so. When the sessions come, they shall 90 heare from me. In the meane time, to all suites, to all intreaties, to all letters, to all trickes, I will be deafe as an adder and blind as a beetle, lay mine eare to the ground, and lock mine eyes i' my hand against all temptations. Exit. 95 Gold. You see, Maister Wolfe, how inexo- rable he is. There is no hope to recover him. Pray you commend me to my brother knight, and to my fellow Francis ; present 'hem with this small token of my love; tell 'hem, I wish 100 Scene III.] (tettoatf) ty*t 1 23 I could do 'hem any worthier office ; but in this, 'tis desperate : yet I will not faile to trie the uttermost of my power for 'hem. And sir, as farre as I have any credit with you, pray you let 'hem want nothing; though I am not ambi-105 tious they should know so much. Wolf. Sir, both your actions and words speake you to be a true gentleman. They shall know onely what is fit, and no more. Exeunt. [Actus Quintus. Scena Tertia. The Counter. Enter Bramble to Holdfast .] Holdfast. Who would you speake with, sir ? Bramble. I would speake with one Securitie that is prisoner here. Hold. You are welcome, sir. Stay there, lie call him to you. Maister Securitie ! 5 \_Enter Security.] Security. Who call's ? Hold. Here's a gentleman would speake with you. Sec. What is he ? Is't one that grafts my forehead now I am in prison, and comes to see 10 how the homes shoote up and prosper ? Hold. You must pardon him, sir ; the old man is a little craz'd with his imprisonment. Enter Bramble, etc. , Qq. Holdfast, Bramble, Securitie. 1 24 (tottoaru J?oe [act v. Sec. What say you to me, sir ? Looke you here, my learned counsaile, M [aster] Bramble! 15 Crye you mercie, sir! When sawe you my wife ? Bram. Shee is now at my house, sir ; and desir'd mee that I would come to visite you, and inquire of you your case, that we might 20 worke some meanes to get you foorth. Sec. My case, M [aster] Bramble, is stone walles and yron grates ; you see it, this is the weakest part on 't. And for getting me forth, no meanes but hang my selfe, and so to be 25 carryed foorth, from which they have here bound me in intollerable bands. Bram. Why, but what is 't you are in for, sir ? Sec. For my sinnes, for my sinnes, sir, whereof manage is the greatest. O, had I never 30 marryed, I had never knowne this purgatorie, to which hell is a kinde of coole bathe in respect ; my wives confederacie, sir, with olde Touch- stone, that shee might keepe her jubilaee and the feast of her new-moone. Doe you understand 35 me, sir ? Enter ^uickesilver. Quicksilver. Good sir, goe in and talke with him. The light dos him harme, and his exam- ple will bee hurtfull to the weake prisoners. Fie, Scene III.] (tettOarD fyOt 1 25 Father Securitie, that you'le bee still so prophane! 40 Will nothing humble you ? \_Exeunt Security, Bramble, Holdfast and Quicksilver.'] Enter two Prisoners, with a friend. Friend. What's he ? Prisoner I. O, hee is a rare yong man ! Doe you not know him ? Friend. Not I. I never saw him, I can re- 45 member. Prisoner 2. Why, it is he that was the gal- lant prentise of London — M [aster] Touch- stones man. Friend. Who ? — Quickesilver ? 50 Pris. 1. I, this is hee. Friend. Is this hee ? They say he has beene a gallant indeede. Pris. [/.] O, the royallest fellow that ever was bred up i' the citie. He would play you his 55 thousand pound a night at dice ; keepe knights and lords companie ; go with them to baudie houses; had his sixe men in a liverie; kept a stable of hunting horses and his wench in her velvet gowne and her cloth of silver. Heres one 60 knight with him here in prison. Friend. And how miserably he is chaung'd ! Pris. I. O, that's voluntary in him : he gave 126 Casttoatf) $?oe [act v. away all his rich clothes, assoone as ever hee came in here, among the prisoners ; and will eate 65 o' the basket, for humilitie. Friend. Why will he doe so ? [Pm. /.] Alas, hee has no hope oflife ! Hee mortifies himselfe. He dos but linger on till the sessions. 70 Pris. 2. O, he has pen'd the best thing, that hee calles his Repentance or his Last Fare-well, that ever you heard. Hee is a pretie poet ; and for prose — you would wonder how many prison- ers he has help't out, with penning petitions for 75 'hem, and not take a penny. Looke ! this is the knight, in the rugge gowne. Stand by. Enter Petronel, Bramble, ^hiickesilver. Bramble. Sir, for Securities case, I have told him : say he should be condemned to be carted or whipt for a bawde, or so, why, He lay an ex- 80 ecution on him o' two hundred pound; let him acknowledge a judgement, he shal do it in halfe an howre ; they shal not all fetch him out with- out paying the execution, o' my word. Petronel. But can we not be bay'ld, M [aster] 85 Bramble ? Bram. Hardly ; there are none of the judges 68 [Pris. /.] Alas, £q. Pris. 2. Enter Petronel, i^uickesil'ver, Qq. add Woolfe. scene in.] cBas^ttoarD J^oe 127 in towne, else you should remove your selfe (in spight of him) with a habeas corpus. But if you have a friend to deliver your tale sensibly to some 9° justice o' the towne, that hee may have feeling of it (doe you see), you may be bayl'd ; for as I understand the case, tis onely done in ter- rorem ; and you shall have an action of false imprisonment against him when you come out, 95 and perhaps a thousand pound costes. Enter M.[aster] Woolfe. Quicksilver. How now, M [aster] Woolfe? what newes ? what returne ? Wolf. Faith, bad all : yonder will bee no letters received. He saves the sessions shall 100 determine it. Onelv, M [aster] Deputie Gold- ing commends him to you, and with this token wishes he could doe you other good. Quick. I thanke him. Good M [aster] Bram- ble, trouble our quiet no more; doe not molest 105 us in prison thus, with your winding devises ; prav you depart. For my part, I commit my cause to him that can succour mee ; let God worke his will. M [aster] Woolfe, I pray you let this be distributed among the prisoners, and no desire 'hem to pray for us. {Exit Bramble.~\ 107 my part, Qz pat ; Q 3 port. 128 Casttoatu H?oe [act v. Wolf. It shall bee done, M [aster] Francis. Pris. I. An excellent temper ! Pris. 2. Nowe God send him good-lucke ! Exeunt [two Prisoners and Friend.] Pet. But what said my father in lawe,ii5 M [aster] Woolfe? Enter Hold[fast.~] Holdfast. Here's one would speake with you, sir. Wolf. He tell you anon, Sir Petronell ; [Exit Petronell.~\ who is't ? I20 Hold. A gentleman, sir, that will not be seene. Enter Gold[ing~], Wolf. Where is he? M [aster] Deputie ! your wor[ship] is wel-come. Golding. Peace ! I2 5 Wolf. Away, srah ! [Exit Holdfast. ,] Gold. Good faith, M [aster] Woolfe, the es- tate of these gentlemen, for whome you were so late and willing a sutor, doth much affect mee ; and because I am desirous to doe them some 130 faire office, and find there is no meanes to make my father relent so likely as to bring him to be a spectator of their miseries ; I have ventur'd on a device, which is, to make my selfe your pris- Scene IV] (totfoarD fyOZ 1 29 oner: entreating, you will presently goe report 135 it to my father, and (fayning an action, at sute of some third person) pray him by this token, [giving a ring'] that he will presently, and with all secrecie, come hether for my bayle ; which trayne, if any I know, will bring him abroad ; 140 and then, having him here, I doubt not but we shall be all fortunate in the event. Wolf. Sir, I wil put on my best speede to effect it. Please you come in. Gold. Yes; and let me rest conceal'd, I pray 145 you. Wolf. See here a benefit truely done, when it is done timely, freely, and to no ambition. [Exeunt.] [Actus Quintus. Scena Quarta. Touchstone 's House.] Enter Touchstone, Wife, Daughters, Syn[defie~], Winyfred. Touchstone. I will sayle by you, and not heare you, like the wise Ulisses. Mildred. Deare father 1 Mistress Touchstone. Husband ! Gertrude. Father ! s Exeunt, Qq. Exit. 130 (totUmtU l?0e [Act V. Winifred and Sindefy. M [aster] Touch- stone ! Touch. Away, syrens, I wil inmure my selfe against your cryes, and locke my selfe up to your lamentations. 10 Mist T. Gentle husband, heare me ! Ger. Father, it is I, father ; my Lady Flash. My sister and I am friends. Mild. Good father ! Win. Be not hardned, good M [aster] Touch- 15 stone ! Sin. I pray you, sir, be mercifull ! Touch. I am deafe ; I doe not heare you ; I have stopt mine eares with shoomakers waxe, and drunke Lethe and mandragora to forget you. 20 All you speake to mee I commit to the ayre. Enter Woolfe. Mild. How now, M [aster] Woolfe? Wolf. Where's M [aster] Touchstone? I must speake with him presently ; I have lost my breath for hast. 25 Mild. What's the matter sir? Pray all be well. Wolf. Maister Deputy Goulding is arrested upon an execution, and desires him presently to come to him forthwith. 3° 10 your lamentations, Qq our. Scene IV] CaSttoatf) tyOC 13 1 Mild. Aye me ! doe you heare, father ? Touch. Tricks, tricks, confederacie, tricks ! I have 'hem in my nose — I sent 'hem ! Wolf. Who's that ? Maister Touchstone ? Mist. T. Why it is M [aster] Wolfe him- 35 selfe, husband. Mild. Father! Touch. I am deafe still, I say. I will neither yeeld to the song of the syren nor the voice of the hyena, the teares of the crocodile nor the 4° howling o' the Wolfe : avoid my habitation, monsters ! Wolf. Why, you are not mad, sir ? I pray you looke forth, and see the token I have brought you, sir. 4S Touch. Ha ! what token is it ? Wolf Do you know it, sir ? Touch. My sonne Gouldings ring ! Are you in earnest Mai[ster] Wolfe? Wolf. I, by my faith, sir. He is in prison, 50 and requir'd me to use all speed and secrecie to you. Touch. My cloake there (pray you be patient). I am plagu'd for my austeritie. My cloake ! At whose suite, Maister Wolfe ? 55 Wolf He tell you as we goe sir. Exeunt. [Actus Quintus. Scena Quinta. The Counter.] Enter Friend, Prisoners. Friend. Why, but is his offence such as he cannot hope of life ? Prisoner I. Troth, it should seeme so ; and 'tis a great pity, for he is exceeding penitent. Friend. They say he is charg'd but on sus- 5 picion of felony yet. Prisoner 2. I, but his maister is a shrewd fel- low ; heele prove great matter against him. Friend. I'de as live as anything I could see his Farewell. 10 Pris. 1. O, tis rarely written : why Tobie may get him to sing it to you ; hee's not curious to any body. Pris. 2. O no ! He would that all the world should take knowledge of his repentance, and 15 thinkes he merits in't, the more shame he suf- fers. Pris. 1. Pray thee, try what thou canst doe. Pris. 2. I warrant you he will not deny it, if he be not hoarce with the often repeating of 20 it. Exit. Pris. 1. You never saw a more courteous Scene V.] (WtttttrD ^Oe 133 creature then he is ; and the knight too : the poorest prisoner of the house may command 'hem. You shall heare a thing admirably 25 pend. Friend. Is the knight any sc holler too ? Pris. 1. No, but he will speake verie well, and discourse admirably of running horses and White-Friers, and against baudes, and of cocks ; 30 and talke as loude as a hunter, but is none. Enter Wolfe and Touchstone. Wolf. Please you stay here, sir, He cal his worship downe to you. [Exit Wolf; Touchstone stands apart, right. ,] Pris. 1. See, he has brought him, and the knight too. Salute him. 35 [Re-enter [Prisoner 2 with~\ £hiick[silver'~\, Pe- t\ronel and Security ; Golding folloiving, stands apart, left.~\ [Pris. /.] I pray, Sir, this gentleman, upon our report, is very desirous to heare some piece of your Repentance. Quick. Sir, with all my heart; and, as I told M [aster] Tobie, I shall be glad to have any 40 man a witnesse of it. And the more openly I \_Rc\cnter [Prisoner}. In the Qq. the stage direction follows re- pentance, and the speech of Prisoner 1 is not broken. 134 (tottoatf) $?oe [a ct v. professe it, I hope it will appeare the hartier, and the more unfained. Touchstone [aside.~\ Who is this ? — my man Francis, and my sonne in lawe ? 45 Quicksilver. Sir, it is all the testimonie I shall leave behind me to the world, and my master that I have so offended. Friend. Good sir ! Quick. I writ it when my spirits were op- 50 prest. Petronel. I, He be sworne for you, Francis. Quick. It is in imitation of Maningtons, he that was hangd at Cambridge, that cut of the horses head at a blow. 55 Friend. So, sir ! Quick. To the tune of I waile in woe, I plunge in paine. Pet. An excellent ditty it is, and worthy of a new tune. 60 Quick. In Cheapside famous for gold and plate, Quicksilver, I did dwel of late ; I had a master good and kind, That would have wrought me to his mind. He bad me still, Worke upon that, 65 But, alas ! I wrought I knew not what. He was a Touchstone black, but true ; And told me still what would ensue ; Scene V.] CaSttUarD fyOt 135 Yet woe is me ! I would not learne ; I saw, alas ! but could not discerne ! 70 Friend. Excellent, excellent well. Gold. [aside] O let him alone. Hee is taken already. 6)uick. I cast my coat and cap away, I went in silkes and sattens gay, 75 False mettall of good manners I Did dayly coine unlawfully. I scornd my master, being drunke ; / kept my gelding and my punke ; And, with a knight, Sir Flash, by name, 80 Who now is sory for the same — Pet. I thanke you, Francis. ghtick. I thought by sea to runne away, But Thames and tempest did me stay. Touch, [aside] This cannot be fained sure. 85 Heaven pardon my severity ! The ragged colt, may proove a good horse. Gold, [aside] How he listens ! and is trans- ported ! He has forgot me. ghrick. Still Eastward hoe was all my word : 9° But westward I had no regard, Nor never thought what would come after, As did, alas ! his youngest daughter. At last the black oxe trode o' my foot e, And I saw then vjhat longd untoo 't ; 95 136 (tottoaru (pot [actv. Now cry I, " Touchstone, touch me stil, And make me currant by thy skill." Touch. And I will do it, Francis. Wolf. Stay him, M [aster] Deputie; now is the time: we shall loose the song else. 100 Friend. I protest it is the best that ever I heard. Quick. How like you it, gentlemen ? All. O admirable, sir! Quick. This stanze now following alludes to 105 the story of Mannington, from whence I tooke my project for my invention. Friend. Pray you goe on, sir. Quick. O Mannington, thy stories shew, Thou cutst a horse-head off at a blow, "° But I confess e, I have not the force For to cut off the head of a horse ; Yet I desire this grace to winne, That I may cut off the horse-head of Sin, And leave his body in the dust 1 1 5 Of sinnes high way and bogges of lust, Wherby I may take Vertues purse, And live with her for better, for worse. Friend. Admirable, sir, and excellently con- iao ceited ! Quick. Alas, sir ! scene v.] CasttoarD $?oe 137 Touch. Sonne Goulding and M [aster] Wolfe I thank you : the deceipt is welcome, especially from thee, whose charitable soule in this hath shewne a high point of wisedome and honesty. 125 Listen, I am ravished with his repentance, and could stand here a whole prentiship to heare him. Friend. Forth, good sir. £hiick. This is the last, and the Farewell. 130 Farewell Cheapside, farewel sweet trade Of Goldsmithes all, that never shall fade ; Farewell, deare fellow prentises all, And be you warned by my fall : Shun usurers, bauds, and dice, and drabs, 135 Avoide them as you would French scabs. Seeke not to goe beyonde your tether, But cut your thongs unto your lether ; So shall you thrive by little and little, Scape Tiborne, Counters, and the Spitle. 14° Touch. And scape them shalt thou my peni- tent and deare Frances ! ®)uick. Master! Pet. Father! Touch. I can no longer forbeare to doe your 145 humility right. Arise, and let me honour your repentance with the hearty and joyfull embraces 138 CaattrjarD S?oe [a ct v. of a father and friends love. Quicksilver, thou hast eate into my breast, Quicksilver, with the dropps of thy sorrow, and kild the desperate 15° opinion I had of thy reclaime. Shriek. O, sir, I am not worthy to see your worshipfull face ! Pet. Forgive me father. Touch. Speake no more; all former passages 155 are forgotten ; and here my word shall release you. Thanke this worthy brother, and kind friend, Francis. — M [aster] Wolfe, I am their bayle. A shoute in the prison. Security. Maister Touchstone ! Maister 160 Touchstone ! Touch. Who's that ? Wolf. Securitie, sir. Sec. Pray you, sir, if youle be wonne with a song, heare my lamentable tune too : 165 Song. O Maister Touchstone, My heart is full of woe : Alasse, I am a cuckold ! And why should it be so ? Because I was a usurer 170 And bawd, as all you know, For which, again I tell you, My heart is full of woe. Scene V] CafitUmrD tyQt 1 39 Touch. Bring him forth, Maister Wolfe and release his bands. This day shalbe sacred to 175 mercy and the mirth of this encounter in the Counter. — See, we are encountred with more suters ! Enter Mist\ress~\ Touch st\one~\, Gyr[tred~\, Mil\dred~\, Synd\_efy and] Winnif\red~\. Save your breath, save your breath ! All things have succeeded to your wishes; and we are 180 heartely satisfied in their events. Gertrude. Ah, runaway, runaway ! have I caught you ? And how has my poore knight done all this while ? Petronel. Deare lady-wife, forgive me! i%$ Ger. As heartely as I would be forgiven, knight. Deare father, give me your blessing, and forgive me too ; I ha' bene proud and lascivi- ous, father ; and a foole, father ; and being raisd to the state of a wanton coy thing, calld a lady, 190 father ; have scorn'd you, father, and my sister, and my sisters velvet cap, too ; and would make a mouth at the citty as I ridde through it ; and stop mine eares at Bow-bell : I have said your beard was a base one, father; and that you 195 look'd like Twierpipe, the taberer ; and that my mother was but my midwife. Mistress Touchstone. Now, God forgi' you, child, madame ! ho (tottoaro J?oe [act v. Touch. No more repetitions. What is else 200 wanting to make our harmony full ? Golding. Only this, sir, that my fellow Fraun- cis make amends to Mistresse Syndefie with manage. Quick. With all my heart. 205 Gold. And Security give her a dower, which shall be all the restitution he shall make of that huge masse he hath so unlawfully gotten. Touch. Excellently devisd ! a good motion ! What sayes Maister Securitie ? 2IO Sec. I say anything, sir, what you'll ha me say. Would I were no cuckold ! Win. Cuckold, husband ? Why, I thinke this wearing of yellow has infected you. Touch. Why, Maister Securitie, that should 215 rather be a comfort to you then a corasive. If you be a cuckold, it's an argument you have a beautifull woman to your wife; then you shall be much made of; you shall have store of friends, never want mony ; you shall be easd22o of much o' your wedlock paine; others will take it for you. Besides, you being a usurer (and likely to goe to hell), the devills will never tor- ment you : they'll take you for one o their owne race. Againe, if you be a cuckold, and know 225 it not, you are an innocent ; if you know it and endure it, a true martyr. Scene V.] (tottOarfc fi?Oe 141 Secur. I am resolv'd sir. Come hether, Winny. Touch. Well then, all are pleasd ; or shall be 230 anone. Maister Wolfe you looke hungry, me thinkes. Have you no apparell to lend Fraun- cis to shift him ? Ghcick. No sir, nor I desire none; but here make it my sute, that I may goe home, through 235 the streetes, in these, as a spectacle, or rather an example to the children of Cheapeside. Touch. Thou hast thy wish. Now London, looke about, And in this morrall see thy glasse runne out: Behold the carefull father, thrifty sonne, 240 The solemne deedes, which each of us have done; The usurer punisht, and from fall so steepe The prodigal! child reclaimd, and the lost sheepe. EPILOGUS [g)uick.~\ Stay, sir, I perceive the multitude are gatherd together to view our comming out at the Counter. See if the streets and the fronts of the houses be not stucke with people, and the windowes fild with ladies, as on the solemne day of the pageant ! O may you find in this our pageant, here, The same contentment which you came to seeke ; And as that Shew but drawes you once a yeare, May this attract you hether once a weeke. Exeunt. [i^K?V£.] In the Qq. the Epilogue is not assigned. Exeunt. Qq. place this after 1. 243, p. 141. iQoteg |£oteg to <£a£ttoarti i^oe Single 'words •will be found in the Glossary. The Three Quartos of Eastward Hoe. Three quarto versions of Eastward Hoe appeared in the year 1605, all " printed for William Aspley " and showing title-pages practi- cally identical. Only one of these versions contains the passage against the Scotch which cast two of the authors into prison. It is plain that the version containing the cancelled passage preceded the other two : we may call it the first quarto (0_i ). One of the two other quartos is entirely reset. The play has here been crowded into a smaller space, and appears from the many misprints to be a hasty and inferior version. This quarto we may regard as the third (23), because it differs most widely from the first, and because it displays an evident attempt to correct slips of the other versions, de- spite its own generous crop of additional errors. As between 0_2 and Q3, there is a tendency, on the part of the latter, to use many abbreviations (Gf for and, a dash over the preceding letter to indi- cate n, briefer forms and shortenings of proper names, for example). There is a closer setting of type and snugger spacing, and verse is more frequently set in double column. As a result 23 runs in fours from A to H,and ends with H 4 -verso; while Q2 runs A to I in fours, ending in I 4 verso.. Lastly, many printer's errors of Q_2, most of them trivial, are corrected («. g. 'r •were for {'•were, trade for ttade, madam for me dam). Save for some trifling changes about that part of the play in which alterations were probably made when the passage libelling the Scotch was suppressed, Q_i and Qz appear to have been printed from the same setting. The printer, ordered to excise the objectionable words, would naturally make corrections only on the pages contain- ing those words, and would endeavor to use the other signatures of his copies which might be yet unsold in making up the revised edi- 146 jpotes tion. The libellous passage occurs near the bottom of page E 3 ■verso, and must have run some three or four lines over on page E 4. Hence two pages were affected, and unless the type was still stand- ing when the order came to excise (a coincidence not impossible), E 3 and E 4 verso would have had to be reprinted as well. The passage from Qi, omitted in Qz and Q3, contains seventy-nine words ; and at the end of the speech which contained the omitted words there is an added passage of thirty-one words in both the other quartos. Moreover in Q2 (but not in Q3) the added passage occurs on page E 4. We have thus to account in £>2 (on pages E 3 -verso and E 4), for a spacing sufficient to contain forty-eight words, the difference between the omitted passage (seventy-nine words) of Qi and the added passage (thirty-one words) of Qz. As a rule, Qz runs thirty-eight or thirty-nine lines to the page, (there are thirty-eight lines on E 3, and thirty-seven on E 4 -verso, the pages to either side of the two on which the corrections would have to be made) . But on E 3 verso there are but thirty-seven lines ; and on E 4 but thirty-five, owing to the unusually wide spacing above and below a stage direction. Thus on E 3 -verso at least one line has been saved ; and on E 4 two or, if need be, three. We have thus some four or five lines saved in the setting of these two pages. The lines of Q2 contain from nine to twelve words, and therefore the differ- ence in number of words between the omitted passage of Qi and the added passage of £)2 could readily have been contained in the blank space exhibited by Qz. We may thus infer that Aspley had already finished the printing of East-ward Hoe and sold some copies in its early, complete form when the order came to suppress the libellous passage. This Aspley accomplished by resetting and reprinting the two pages of j^i which contained the objectionable words, and by making up the rest of the new issue with the unsold parts of the old. The scandal of the libel and the imprisonment of the two authors quickly exhausted Qz ; and to take advantage of this fortuitous and momentary interest in his book, Aspley hurriedly set the play again in Q3, economising space to expedite publication and to increase his profits. There are thus really but two editions of East-ward Hoe ; Ql and Qz, consti- tuting the e ditto princeps ; J) 3, the second. The courtesy of Mr. Beverley Chew and Mr. W. A. White, j£otf$ 147 both of New York and owners respectively of a Qz and a Qj of Eastward Hoe, has enabled the present editor to work with both editions before him. Mr. Chew's copy of Qz, employed for this edition, exhibits a misplacement of two leaves (E 3 and E 4). They precede instead of following E I and E 2. The copy of this quarto in the Bodleian Library at Oxford shows, according to the acting librarian, Dr. Madan, fragments of the old E 3 and E 4 following the new pages. It seems unlikely that any other changes were made save those explained above. Eastward Hoe, Westward Hoe, were cries of the watermen who plied on the Thames, in 1605 the main thorough- fare to different parts of London. PrologUS. Bullen attributes this prologue to Jonson from its " tone of arrogant assumption." 4, 5. Opposde to ours in title. The comedy of West- ward Hoe, by Webster and Dekker, not printed until 1607. 6, 23. Heyday! Ruffins (/. e. ruffians') Hall. "West Smithfield was formerly called Ruffians' Hall where ruffians met casually and otherwise to try masteries with sword and buckler.'* Ray's Pro-verbs, ed, 1678, p. 328. 6,30. A justice of peace and of quorum is one whose presence is necessary to constitute a bench. The phrase is derived from the words of the Latin commission reading quorum unum A. B. esse •volumus. 6, 35. I am intertaind among gallants, true; etc. Mr. Bullen compares "the turn of this sentence" with a pas- sage in Marston's Fawn. Bullen's Works of Marston, 1887, II. 181. 8, 68. The devise of the home . . . the buckall. In Notes and Queries (Series VII. vol. IV. 323) may be found the description of a painting on a panel belonging to the sixteenth century, and representing a huge horn, the curved end upward. Two personages are engaged in thrusting an unfortunate wretch into 148 il^otes; the horn at the big end, while at " the buckall " or small end a head and arm appear, and near by stands a previous victim in ragged garments, wringing his hands. The picture is inscribed : " This home embleme here doth showe of suertishipp what harme doth growe : " and the whole is entitled " The Sea of Trubble." A later correspondent (same Series, VII. 376) refers this picture to the present passage. 8, 91. Crackling bavins. Literally a bavin is a bundle of brushwood easily ignited, and hence used for lighting fires. It is here employed of the upstart Quicksilver and his sudden flash into notoriety ; and is prophetic of the brevity of his career. Cf. Shakespeare's "rash bavin wits," / Henry I V, III. 2. 61. 9, 109. Court-Cut and long tayle. Court-cut is equally a garment of courtly fashion and a bob-tailed or curtail dog, so maimed to show its owner a person qualified under the forest laws to hunt. Long tayle correspondingly alludes to a kind of garment and to the contrasted hunting dog. 10, 128. Give armes, show armorial bearings. 10, 134. Let the welkin roare, scraps of the rant of An- cient Pistol. See 2 Henry IV, II. 4. 11, 145. Christ-church, a parish of London, including New- gate. Gingerbread was a favorite at Bartholomew Fair held in the neighborhood. 11, 156. Who calls Jeronimo ? A line from The Spanish Tragedy, II. 5. 4. 12, 171. Moore fieldes, a favorite haunt of sturdy beggars and highwaymen. 13, Bettrice leading a monkey. The note of the late Dr. Nicholson that this dumb character, introduced here only in the play, was intended to ridicule " Beatrice (of Much Ado About Nothing') leading apes in hell, and the dumb Hero's Mother" in the same play, must be pronounced fanciful. See Shakespeare's Centurie of Praise, Neiv Shakspere Society's Publications, 1879, p. 70. 13, 9. In any hand, under any circumstances. Cf. All's Well that Ends Well, III. 6. 45 : Let him fetch off his drum in any hand. 13,10. Thus whilst shee sleepes. A line from a song jftotes; 149 in John Dowland's First Book of Songs or Airs, 1 597, beginning *' Sleep, wayward thoughts and rest you with my love." 14, 37. Boe-bell ! In allusion to the popular definition of a cockney as one born within hearing of the bells of the church of St. Mary le Bow in Cheapside. 14, 44. Ulisses . . . yoakt cattes. Mildred's variation of the old fable is pardonable. Cf. Hyginus, Fabula XCV. 15, 61. A right Scot. Evidently a hit at the aping of Scotch costume and manners due to the incoming of a foreign prince. A Scotch farthingale is mentioned as a new fashion in Westward Hoe, I. I. 18, 150. Chittizens, an affected pronunciation of citizens. Cf. Blurt, Master Constable, 1602, III. 3. 20, 178. His castle on his backe. Gallants often im- poverished their estates by the costliness of their garments. 20, 201. 'Wei parted, of good parts. Bullen remarks that this is a Jonsonian expression, and refers to " The Characters of the Persons ' ' prefixed to Every Man Out of his Humour, ' ' a person well parted." 21, 214. Tis honest times expence, etc. It is worth the expenditure of my time (an honest man's) when seeming light- ness (a grave man's making a match) bears a moral sense (/. e. contains a deeper purpose than the mere bringing together of two lovers). 26, 106. Holla, ye pampered jades of Asia ! Tam- burlaine's extravagant words to the four captive kings drawing him in his chariot. (Part II, IV. 4.) The later dramatists never wearied in their ridicule of the old melodramas, Tamburlaine and The Spanish Tragedy. 26, 1 10. Showse quot the caliver. Perhaps no more than bang went the gun. 27, 134. Hast thou not Hyren here? One of Pistol's favorite quotations ( 2 Henry IV, II. 4. 1 65), supposed to be from Peek's lost play, The Turkish Mahomet and Hyren the Fair Greek. 27, 138. Who cries on murther ? Evidently another reminiscence of The Spanish Tragedy. Cf. II. 5. I ; and see Jonson's Poetaster, III. 1, where nearly the same words are employed, though these words differ from the text as we have it. 150 jftotes 28, 151. Go westward ho, t. e. westward in a cart to Tyburn, the place of execution. Cf. Greene's The Second Part of Conny-catching, I 591, Grosart's JVorks of Greene, X. 105. 28, 160. Rente, flye with a duck in thy mouth. Cf. the proverbs : " Throw it to the ducks," throw it away ; and " To make ducks and drakes of a thing," to skim it carelessly on the surface of the water as boys do stones. See Notes and Queries, Series I. V. 42 and Series VII. I. 257. 28, 164. When this eternall substance, etc. This and the next two quotations are the opening lines of The Spanish Tragedy. 31. Actus Secundus. ScenaSecunda. Bullen marks a third scene at the close of this soliloquy of Security. 32, 20. K. me, K. thee. One good turn deserves an- other. K. was pronounced Kay. Ray's Pro-verbs, 1 678, p. 163. 32, 31. A scrappe to the nette of villanie. Virtue is as nothing to the powerful and successful wiles of villainy. 32, 32. They that use. They that use it (virtue) simplie (merely), thrive simply (like fools). 32, 38. Let my truncks shoote. Trunck was also a term for a pea-shooter. 33, 41. Via, the curtain that shadowed Borgia. The final catastrophe of Mulleasses the Turke (Act V, Scene 3), by John Mason and printed in 1608, takes place in this wise : Bor- gias is supposed slain, but haunts his court in the shape of a ghost. He enters, followed by two gentlemen, to Mulleasses, who discovers that Borgias is not an apparition, runs at him, and each gives the other his death wound. Doubtless Borgias entered behind a thin curtain or glided in the shadow of one, and hence the allusion. 33, 46. 'When Sampson, etc. A parody of an old ballad, see Chappell, Popular Music of the Olden Time, 1855—59, P- 241. 34, 78. Under the wide hazzard. The hazzard in tennis is the court into which the ball is served ; to strike a ball into the hazzard is to win a point. The ship is here likened to a tennis ball tossed by the waves and driven not only into the wide hazzard i e., into the open sea, but under its surface. jpotes! 1 5 * 34, 81. Well, Francke, well : the seas, etc. This, and the next speech of Syndefy, are unmistakably in Jonson's mor- alizing vein. Cf. Discoveries, ed. 1892, pp. 20 and 46. 35, 103. A prentise, quoth you ? You say that a pren- tice dare enter, can make way against "my worshipfull rascall," etc. , how preposterous ! 42, 20. Westward to hange himself. Cf. above, note p. 150. 43,41. Commoditie. This alludes to a practice among the usurers of the day by which young spendthrifts were compelled to take a part of the sum advanced in goods more or less damaged, for which the usurer could charge what he pleased. Cf. The Al- chemist, III. 4. 43, 49. Fortie pound in rosted beefe. Bullen refers to Dekker's Lanthorne and Candlelight, 1609 (Deiker's Works, ed. Grosart, III. 231), where a hundred pounds' worth of "this extraordinary commodity" is mentioned. 43> 57- God's me, a mincing oath, possibly cut down from God's my life. Cf. / Henry IV, II. 3. 96. 44, 87. Turne-spit dog bound to his wheele. Top- sel mentions a dog, " in kitchin service excellent," that turns the spit by treading a wheel and " whom the popular sort hereupon call turnspits." History of Four-footed Beasts, 1658, p. 139. 47, 170. Draw all my servants in my bowe. Bend them all to my will. Cf. Foxe, Book of Martyrs, ed. 1631, III. 12. 880-882. 47, 172. Read on a booke. See Shakespearian Gram- mar, § 180; and cf. Hamlet, III. 1.44. 54. Enter Hamlet, a footeman, in haste. {Hamlet had been on the stage three or four years at this time, and was the greatest dramatic success of its day. ) This scene contains several jocular allusions to Shakespeare's tragedy, but the notion of Feis and some others that it contains a malicious attack on Shakespeare may be dismissed as unworthy of serious consideration. Ophelia calls for her coach (IV. 5. 71), an anachronism to which Jonson alone among the dramatists of his day would have given a moment's thought. Mr. Feis discovers in Gertrude's like call for her coach "the most shameless indecency" {Shakespeare and Montaigne, 152 jpotes 1884, p. 197). Hamlet are you madde, needs no gloss. In all the haste that the cold meat left at your icedding might serve to furnish their nuptiall table (57> 74» below) alludes to "the funeral baked meats" that " coldly furnished forth the marriage tables " of Ham- let's mother and uncle (Hamlet, I. 2. 180)} and, besides, one of the brides in each case was named Gertrude. (See, too, a further reference to Hamlet in Gertrude's song below, 58, 96.) 54, 11. Blew COte, the blue coat was the livery of the serving-man. 56, 50. But a little higher, the refrain of a song in Cam- pion's A Booke of Ay res, 1601 ; Bullen's Campion, p. 19. 56, 55. Gives no other milke, is of no other use. 57, 74. All the haste. Cf. Shakespearian Grammar, § 91 ; and at the length, North's Plutarch, 1656, p. 592. 58, 96. His head as white, a variation of one of mad Ophelia's snatches of song. Hamlet, IV. 5. 190. 58. Rosemary, the herb of remembrance, used at weddings and funerals. 58, 105. Mistresse What lacke you. From the fa- vorite cry, What lack you, of London shopkeepers to passers by. 60, 154. Naturall, the sense of this word, meaning a fool, breaks into Touchstone's thought and throws him back upon his favorite catch phrase. 60, 161. A gentleman I doe not know, etc. Your worship is a kind of gentleman with which I am unacquainted, being neither a gentleman by birth nor by nature. If you are a person that I have ever known you are now so disguised that I can- not recognize you. 60, 168. Gallantry, gallants, young bloods. Cf. Troilus and Cressida, III. I. 149 : All the gallantry of Troy. 61, 183. Now, O now, I must depart, a misquotation of a popular song in John Dowland's First Book of Airs, 1597. 65, 280. To my best nerve, to the best of my strength. 66, 299. Who would not straine ... a point-de- vice ? Who would not be unneighborly to play a trick so ap- propriate ? Security first puns on point of neighborhood (/. e. his duty as a neighbor) and point- devise, and then makes the latter word do double service for point point-devise, i. c. a trick just the j^Otfflf 153 thing. Cf. above (line 284) : whome would you Bring out this even in honest neighbour-hood, i. e. neighborliness. 66, 301. Famous Draco. By order of the queen the ship in which Sir Francis Drake had sailed round the world was laid up at Deptford, whither many sightseers were in consequence attracted. Mr. Swinburne notes in this allusion a betrayal of Chapman's hand. 7°» 395- Fetch you over (to the tavern, accompany you). And then aside, You were nere so fetcht (gulled, as I shall fetch you). 7I> SI. There in 79. The earliest colony in Virginia was that of Sir Richard Grenville in 1585; Hakluyt, Voyages, ed. 1600, III. 254. Professor Edward Channing suggests that this allusion refers to the expedition of 1587, known as "the lost colony," by some still believed to have found refuge with the In- dians of the southern end of Pamlico Sound. 72, 32. Their dripping pans . . . hoales in them. This whole passage is imitated from Sir Thomas More's Utopia, ed. 1886, p. 98 : " Of golde and sylver they make commonlv chaum- ber pottes and other vesselles ... of the same mettalles they make greate chaines, fetters and gieves wherin the[y] tie their bond- men. . . . They gather also pearles by the sea side, and diamondes . . . and therwith thei deck their yonge infauntes." 72, 48. Onely a few industrious Scots . . . prepos- terously mixt. This passage occurs only in a few copies, per- haps all that remain of a first quarto ordered to be destroyed. As to the relation of the various early editions of this play, see the note, p. 145. On the authors' difficulties in consequence, see the Intro- duction. 74, 85. With cap and knee. "These cups proceed either in order or out. In order when no person transgresseth or drinkes out of course, but the cup goes round according to the manner of setting : and this we call an health cup, because in our wishing or confirming any ones health bare-headed and standing, it is performed by all the company." The Laiv of Drinking, 1 61 7, p. 9. 74> I0 °- O' their knees. There are many allusions in the plays of the time to this extravagant Bacchanal rite. A discon- solate lover sings {Oxford Drollery, 1 67 1, p. 124) : — 154 il^OtCflf " I will no more her servant be, The wiser I, the wiser I, Nor pledge her health upon my knee," etc. We are told in Cynthia s Revels (II. I.), that the character, Anai- des, who is supposed to represent Marston, "never kneels but to pledge healths." 77, 179. Blackewall, a place of shipping and docks on the Thames below Deptford. 80, 6. A boate ! a boate ! a boate ! a full hunderd markes for a boate ! Cf. Richard III, V. 4. 7, 13 : A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! 81. Cuckolds' Haven or Cuckolds' Point was a spot on the Surrey side of the Thames a little below Rother- hithe Church and near to the present Thames Railway Tunnel. The place was formerly distinguished by a tall pole with a pair of horns at the top. It was under this title that Eastward Hoe was revived and acted in 1685. The comments of Slitgut in this act are evidently made from the balcony at the back of the stage, whence — to imagination's inward eye — he can view the storm- tossed Thames from London Bridge, rather more than a mile by the river westward, to the Isle of Dogs, the nearest point of which can- not be less than the same distance in an easterly and southeasterly direction. 81,6. In honour of Saint Luke. A horn-fair was held at Charlton on St. Luke's day, October 18, traditionally commem- orative of an exploit of King John. 84, 73. S. Kath'rins, an old royal hospital near to the Tower, used as a reformatory for fallen women ; as appropriate a place for the landing of Winifred as is the Haven for her husband, and the gallows at Wapping for Ouicksilver. 84. Enter the Drawer in the Taverne, i. e. the Drawer who was in the Tavern named before. 89, 201. A poore knight of Windsore. The Military Knights of Windsor lived on a benefaction for retired soldiers founded in 1 349. In later times they were known as "alms knighrs " or " poor knights," doubtless from the insufficiency of the foundation by which they were supported ; and the term be- Jiotes; 155 came synonymous with pauper. See Notes and Queries, Series V. vol. V. 209 and 252. 89, 201. He a Doggs, a low marshy tract along the Thames on the London side, forming a peninsula bounded by Lime House, Greenwich, and Blackwall reaches of the river. 89, 213. I ken the man weel ; etc. Plainly a sneer at King James's carpet knights. Bullen suggests that " as he spoke the words the actor mimick'd James's Scotch accent." 91, 25S. Blanche copper, etc. These devices of Quick- silver to live by his wits are suggestive of that lively prentice's younger and abler brother, Face of The Alchemist. Surely we have here the hand of Jonson. 91, 276. Et habebis magisterium, and thou will't have the philosopher's stone. See Notes to the Alchemist, p. 380. 94, 348. No marvaile, then, if I could see two miles about me, a jocular attempt to account for the change of scene from the place of " the shipwreck " to the neighborhood of the tavern at Billingsgate where Security meets his wife. 95, 355-364. Farewel thou home . . . stone fruite. The home of hunger is plainly that used as a summons to meals ; the home of aboundance or plenty becoming to the richer citizens or headsmen is here turned also to a sinister meaning j the home of direction is the sign-post, with a pun on lant (home), land (home) ; the huntsman's home of pleasure is obvious ; as is the home of des- tinie, that is, the cuckold's horn. Lastly the home tree is the pole, surmounted with a pair of horns, whence Slitgut has just de- scended. 95, 6. Cavallaria . . . Colonoria. Latin law terms sig- nifying the landholding of a knight and of an ordinary colonist- derived from the colonial deeds of the day. 95, 10. Monmouth capps, sailors' caps. 96, 28. 'Weeping Crosse. Nares notes three places of this title. To return by Weeping Crosse is obviously to repent an undertaking. 96,31. Bite o' the bridle for William. Probably a hos- tler's proverb meaning, these horses are likely to get little feeding for anything that I'll do for them. 97, 49, Presentation of the inquest, as we would 156 jftotes say, report of the nominating committee. Inquest is simply in- quiry. 98, 87. Lady Ramsey, wife of a lord mayor of London and benefactress of Christ's Hospital and other institutions ; she died in 1596. 98, 88. Grave Gresham, Sir Thomas Gresham, founder of the Royal Exchange, and chief financier of his day, lived between 1519 and 1579. 99, 92. Thy deeds plaid i' thy life time. This ac- tually happened to Sir Thomas Gresham in the Latin play Byrsa Basilica, 1570. The allusions of the text are to Heywood's play in two parts, If Tou Know Not Me You Knoiv Nobody, 1605, 1606, in the second one of which Gresham and Lady Ramsey appear as characters. 100, 126. A new officer o' the first quarter, in the first term of his service. 102, 173. Mary, fyste o' your kindnesse. On this and the coarse proverb which follows, see Cotgrave. 102, 179. Hunger drops out at his nose. A vulgar proverb. Cf. Upon English Proverbes, The Scourge of Folly, 1 61 1, Grosart's Works of "John Da-vies of Hereford, 1878, p. 42. 104, 226. Trust up at Wapping, where pirates were hanged. 104, 230. You might carry an M. under your gir- dle. You might have the civility to use the term, Master. 106, 281. Gresco (or Cresco) and primero were both fashionable gambling games at cards. As to both, see the Glos- sary. 106, 283. Bright piece of crimson, gaily clad gallant. 106, 284. Changeable trunks of apparel, trunks full of changeable apparel. 111, 8. O hone, hone, etc. An Irish refrain or burden of lamentation. 112, 37. Knight o' the Sunne, a hero of The Mirror of Knighthood, published in seven parts between I 583 and 1601 ; Palmerin of England, Munday's translation of Hurtado's romance, was first published about 1 581. The heroes of the Morte Dan hut need no word here. jpotes 157 113, 71. Lay ... in lavender, /. e. pawn. 114, 96. Fayries now adayes. For these popular super- stitions see Bishop Corbet's The Faeryes Farewell, Chalmer's Eng- lish Poets, V. 582. 116, 153. Abodie would thinke you were the older. Any one would know that you were the older, and hence would have expected sound advice of you. Il8, 183. The legge of a larke, translated by Howell among English Proverbs, p. 7, Lexicon Tettraglotton, 1660. 120, 42. Famely o' Love, a religious association founded in Holland a few years before the accession of Queen Elizabeth, the chief tenet of which appears to have been that ' ' the essence of religion consists in the feelings of Divine love, and that all other theological tennets . . . are of no importance." This sect was attacked, misunderstood, and abused by Middleton in his comedy, The Family of Love. 121,54-61. Knights - Ward, Hole, Two-penny Ward are the names of different parts of the prison. The hu- mility of the penitents causes them to choose inferior lodgings within the prison for discipline's sake. From his rank Sir Petronel might have claimed lodgment "of the Master's side." Cf. Westward Hoe, III. 2. See Fenner's Compter's Commonwealth, 161 7. 121, 72. Sicke-Mans Salve, a popular book of devotion by Thomas Becon, published in 1 561. 123. The Counter or Compter, on St. Margaret's Hill, Southwark, was the prison of the Borough of the City of Lon- don in which debtors and those guilty of mere misdemeanors were imprisoned. Minsheu explains the word: "Because whosoever slippeth in there must be sure to account, and pay well too, ere he get out again." The Counter was situated opposite the Tabard Inn, and was destroyed by fire in 1676. 126, 65. Eate O* the basket, containing broken victuals collected for the poorer prisoners. 128, 126. Away, srah ! evidently addressed to Wolfs as- sistant turnkey, Holdfast, who lingers after conducting Golding to Wolf. Bullen supplies here instead and "at a venture," " Exit Bramble." 131, 42. Voice of the hyena. The hyena was supposed 158 jliotetf to be able to counterfeit a man's voice to lure him to destruction. Topsell, The History of Four-footed Beasts, 1 658, p. 341. I34, 53. Maningtons. A ivoeful Ballad made by Mr. George Mannynton, an houre before he suffered at Cambridge- casteil was entered on the Stationers' Register Nov. 7. 1576. See Ritson, Ancient Songs and Ballads, ed. 1877, p. 188. 134, 57. I waile in woe. The first line of Mannington's ballad. Quicksilver's song is a satirical take-off of the " neck verses" actually written by criminals, or for them, and often sung or recited by them on their way to Tyburn. J 35> 7 2 - O l e t him (Quicksilver) alone, don't interrupt his song. Hee (Touchstone) is taken already. I 35> 94- The black oxe trode o' my foote, a pro- verbial expression, meaning trouble came upon me. 140, 216. Wearing of yellow. This was alike the color of Security's prison dress and of jealousy. LETTERS OF CHAPMAN AND JONSON CON- CERNING EASTWARD HOE The following letters are reprinted from the Athenaum of March 30, 1901. They were communicated to that journal by Mr. Bertram Dobell, who took them from a quarto manuscript commonplace book of ninety leaves into which they had been copied together with other let- ters, petitions, and documents dating between 1580 and 161 3. All are written in the old court hand. Mr. Do- bell is of opinion that " the writer or collector of the documents can have been no other than George Chap- man." The manuscript contains ten documents, ap- parently relating to the misfortunes of the poets in the ^Letters of Chapman ana 31ott$on 159 matter of Eastward Hoe. One of these was printed by Gilford, from a copy among the Hatfield Papers, in his Memoir of Ben Jonson. l Mr. Dobell reprints six others, three of them Chapman's, three Jonson' s. All of these are reprinted here. TO HIS MOST GRATIOUS MAJESTIE. Vouchsafe most Excellent Soveraigne to take mercifull notice of the submissive and amendfull sorrowes of your two most humble and prostrated subjects for your highnes displeasure : Geo : Chap- man and Ben Jhonson ; whose chief offences are but two clawses, and both of them not our owne ; much less the unnaturall issue of our offenceles intents : I hope your Majestie's universall know- ledge will daigne to remember : That all Authoritie in execution of Justice especiallie respects the manners and lives of men commanded before it ; And accordinge to their generall actions censures anythinge that hath scapt them in perticular ; which cannot be so dispropor- tionate that one being actuallie good, the other should be inten- tionallie ill ; if not intentionallie (howsoever it may lie subject to construction) where the whole founte of our actions may be justi- fied from beinge in this kind offensive 5 I hope the integrall partes will taste of the same loyall and dutifull order : which to aspire from your most Cesar-like Bountie (who conquered still to spare the conquered, and was glad of offences that he might forgive). In all dijection of never-inough itterated sorrowe for your high dis- pleasure, and vowe of as much future delight as cf your present anger ; we cast our best parts at your highnes feete, and our worst to hell. George Chapman. MOST WORTHELY HONORD. Of all the oversights for which I suffer none repents me so much as that our unhappie booke was presented without your Lordshippes allowance, for which we can plead nothinge by way of pardon : but your Person so farr removed from our requirde attendance j our 1 Cunningham's yonson, I. cxvii. 160 ^Letters of Cijapman ano ^jonsfon play so much importun'de, and our cleere opinions, that nothinge it contain'd could worthely be held offensive ; and had your good Lordshippe vouchsafte this addition of grace to your late free boun- ties, to have heard our reasons for our well wayd Opinions ; And the wordes truly related on which both they and our enemies Com- plaints were grounded j I make no question but your Impartial Justice, wolde have stoode much further from their clamor then from our acquittall ; which indifferent favoure, if yet your no less than Princelye respect of vertue shall please to bestowe on her poore observant, and commaunde my Appearaunce j I doubt not but the Tempest that hath dryven me into this wrackfull harbor will cleere with my Innocence ; And withall the most sorrow inflicting wrath of his Excellent Majestie : which to my most humble and zealous affection is so much the more stormye, by how much some of my obscured laboures have striv'd to aspire in stead therof his illustrate favoure : And shall not be the least honor to his most -Royall ver- tues. To the most worthy and honorable Protector of vertue : The Lord Chamberlain. George Chapman. [TO THE LORD CHAMBERLAIN.] Notwithstandinge your lordshipps infinite free bountie hath par- don'd and grac't when it might justlie have punisht 5 and remem- bered our poore reputations when our acknowledged dewties to your lordshippe might worthely seeme forgotten ; yet since true honor de- lightes to encrease with encrease of goodness ; & that our liabilities and healths fainte under our yrcksome burthens ; we are with all humilitie enforc't to solicite the propagation of your most noble fa- vours to our present freedome ; And the rather since we heare from the Lord Dawbney, that his highnes hath remitted one of us wholie to your Lo: favoure ; And that the other had still youre Lo: pass- inge noble remembrance for his jointe libertie ; which his highnes selfe would not be displeas'd to allow ; And thus with all gratitude admyringe youre no lesse then sacred respect to the poore estate of vertue, never were our soules more appropriate to the powers of our lives, then our utmost lives are consecrate to your noblest service. George Chapman. ^Letters of Chapman auo iflonsoti 161 MOST HONORABLE LORD : Although I cannot but know your Lo : to be busied with far greater and higher affaires than to have leysure to discend sodainelye on an estate so low and remov'd as myne ; yet since the cause is in us wholie mistaken (at least misconstrued) and that every noble and just man is bound to defend the innocent, I doubt not but to finde your Lordshipp full of that woonted vertue and favoure where- with you have ever abounded toward the truth. And though the imprisonment itselfe can not but grieve mee (in respect of his Ma- jesties high displeasure, from whence it proceedes) yet the manner of it afflicts me more being commytted hether, unexamyned, nay unheard (a Rite not commonlie denyed to the greatest offenders) and I made a guiltie man longe before I am one, or ever thought to bee : God, I call to testimonye what my thoughts are, and ever have bene of his Majestie 5 & so may I thrive when he comes to be my Judge & my Kinges as they are most sincere : And I appeale to posteritie that will hereafter read and judge my writings (though now neglected) whether it be possible I should speak of his Majestie as I have done without the affection of a most zealous and good subject. It hath ever bene my destinye to be misreported and con- demn'd on first tale ; but I hope there is an eare left for mee, and by your honor I hope it, who have alwaies bene frend to Justice ; a vertue that Crownes youre Nobilitie. So with my most humble prayer of your Pardon, and all advanced wishes for your honor, I begin to know my dutie, which is to forbeare to trouble your Lo: till my languishinge estate may drawe free breath from your Com- fortable worde. Ben Johnson. MOST NOBLE EARLE [OF PEMBROKE]: Neither am I or my cause so much unknowne to your Lord- shippe as it should drive mee to seeke a second meanes, or dispaire ot this to your favoure. You have ever been free and noble to mee, and I doubt not the same proportion of your Bounties, if I can but answere it with preservation of my vertue and innocence ; when I faile of those let me not onlye be abandon'd of you, but of men. The Anger of the Kinge is death (saith the wise man) and in truth it is little lesse with mee and my frend, for it hath buried us 1 62 iletters of Chapman ano jonson quick. And though we know it onlie the propertie of men guiltie, and worthy of punishment to invoke Mercye 5 yet now it might relieve us, who have onlie our Fortunes made our fault ; and are indeede vexed for other men's licence. Most honor'd Earle, be hastie to our succoure ; And it shall be our care and studye not to have you repent the tymely benefit you do us ; which we will ever gratefully receive and multiplye in our acknowledgment. Ben Johnson. EXCELLENTEST OF LADIES, [COUNTESS OF RUT- LAND ?] And most honord of the Graces, Muses, and mee ; if it be not a sinne to prophane your free hand with prison polluted paper, I wolde entreate some little of youre ayde to the defence of my innocence which is as cleare as this leafe was (before I staind it) of any thinge halfe-worthye of this violent infliction ; I am commytted and with mee a worthy Friend, one Mr. Chapman, a man, I can not say how known to your Ladishipp, but I am sure knowne to mee to honor you : and our offence a Play, so mistaken, so misconstrued, so mis- applied, as I do wonder whether their Ignorance or Impudence be most, who are our adversaries. It is now not disputable for we stand on uneven bases, and our cause so unequally carried, as we are with- out examininge, without hearinge, or without any proofe but ma- licious Rumor, horried to bondage and fetters ; The cause we understand to be the Kinges indignation, for which we are hartelye sorie, and the more by how much the less we have deserv'd it. What our sute is, the worthy employde Soliciter and equall Adorer of youre vertues, can best enforme you. Ben Jonson. For comparison, the letter of Jonson first printed by Gifford is added. MOST TRULY HONOURABLE, It hath still been the tyranny of my fortune so to oppress my en- deavours that before I can shew myself grateful in the least for former benefits, I am enforced to provoke your bounties for more. May iletters of Chapman ana Jlcmson 163 it not seem grievous to your lordship, that now my innocence calls upon you (next the deity) to her defence. God himself is not averted at just men's cries ; and you that approach that divine good- ness and supply it here on earth in your places and honours, cannot employ your aid more worthily than to the common succour of honesty and virtue, how humbly soever it be placed. I am here, my most honoured lord, unexamined and unheard, committed to a vile prison, and with me a gentleman, (whose name may, perhaps, have come to your lordship) one Mr. George Chapman, a learned and honest man. The cause ( would I could name some worthier, though I wish we had none worthy our im- prisonment, ) is (the words irk me that our fortune hath necessitated us to so despised a course, ) a play, my lord ; whereof we hope there is no man can justly complain that hath the virtue to think but favourably of himself, if our judge bring an equal ear : marry, if with prejudice we be made guilty afore our time, we must em- brace the asinine virtue, patience. My noble lord, they deal not charitably who are witty in another man's works, and utter some- times their own malicious meanings under our words. I protest to your honour, and call God to testimony, (since my first error 1 which, yet, is punished in me more with my shame than it was then with my bondage, ) I have so attempered my style, that I have given no cause to any good man of grief; and if to any ill, by touching at any general vice, it hath always been with a regard and sparing of particular persons. I may be otherwise reported ; but if all that be accused should be presently guilty, there are few men would stand in the state of innocence. I beseech your most honourable lordship, suffer not other men's errors or faults past to be made my crimes ; but let me be exam- ined both by all my works past and this present ; and not trust to rumour but my books (for she is an unjust deliverer both of great and of small actions) whether I have ever (many things I have written private or public) given offence to a nation, to a public 1 " Northampton was his mortall enemie for beating, on a St. George's day, one of his attenders. He was called before the Councell for his Sejanus (1603, acted), and accused of poperie and treason by him." Conversations with Drummond, Shaks. So. 1842, p. 22. Perhaps this shows what error is meant. 1 64 betters of Cljapman anD Jfloitfon order or state, or any person of honour or authority ; but have equally laboured to keep their dignity as mine own person, safe. If others have transgressed, let me not be entitled to their follies. But lest in being too diligent for my excuse, I may incur the suspicion of being guilty, I become a most humble suitor to your lordship that with the honourable lord Chamberlain, (to whom I have in like manner petitioned ) you will be pleased to be the grateful means of our coming to answer ; or if in your wisdoms it shall be thought necessary, that your lordship will be the most honoured cause of our liberty, where freeing us from one prison you will remove us to another ; which is eternally to bind us and our muses to the thankful honouring of you and yours to posterity, as your own virtues have by many descents of ancestors ennobled you to time. Your honour's most devoted in heart as words, Ben Jonson. To the most worthy virtuous and thrice honour' d earl of Salisbury. 1605. tEfje :3lcljnm0t TEXT OF THE ALCHEMIST The Alchemist was first acted in the year 1610 by the King's players, the company of Shakespeare ; and gained an immediate success. The play was entered in the Register of the Stationers' Company in October of that year, but was not published until 1 6 1 2, when it appeared in quarto. The text here followed is that of the first collective edition of Jonson's works, the folio of 1 61 6, which received the author's careful revision. A few mistakes of the folio have been corrected by reference to the quarto and the 1 640 folio. Later folios add nothing. All the variants between the 1 640 folio and Q, save those of mere spelling, have been noted. The text of The Alchemist is remarkably free from difficulty and error; for Jonson, unlike the majority of his contemporaries, was careful in the revision of his proofs and consistent. -in spelling, punctuation A and other niceties of printing. In recognition of all this, Jonson's punctuation, as well as his spelling and mark- ing of intended elisions, has been preserved. Jonson punctuated highly, marking off with commas every break in the rhetorical continuity of his sentences, and especially so distinguishing all adverbs and adverbial clauses. The mark of interrogation is often employed where we should use an exclamation point. And the parenthesis generally denotes — though not always — an aside. The return of this edition to the original text has involved not only the restoration of these things, but also the retention of Jonson's own stage directions and divisions of scene. Giftord, after the man- ner of his time, tampered not a little with the old versions, chang- ing scene where no change was originally intended, and adding many stage directions, some of which make for clearness, though others are unnecessary or misleading. The first have been retained in square brackets ; the latter have been relegated to the Notes, where the curious may consult them. By the return in this text to Jonson's own arrangement of scene it will be observed that The Alch emis t is restored to that small class . of English plavs in which unity of time and place are carefully pre- served, The time of action is o bviously continuous and no t_ longer than the events itapktcd might have taken in actual life. The scene is Lovewit's house within and without. THE ALCHEMIST. nA Comwdicj. Adled in the yeere 1 6 1 o. By the Kings M A 1 E S T I E s Seruants. The Author B. I. L VCR.ET. petere i/tde eoromm, Vndeprius nulfi -vtlnrint tempera. Mufe. London, Printed by William Stansby M. DC. XVI. SOURCES OF THE ALCHEMIST The suggestion of a house misused in the master's absence, with the situation resulting from his unexpected return, Jonson found in the Mostellaria of Plautus ; and the spirited exposition of The Alchemist, a quarrel between two scoundrels in which the truth concerning both unconsciously comes forth, owes much to the not dissimilar opening scene of the same Latin comedy. Again, a par- allel has been noted between an episode of the Poenulus of the same Roman poet and Jonson's amusing scene (IV. 3. ) in which Surly is introduced in the disguise of a Spanish grandee unable to speak English ; and Face, in ignorance of the Spanish tongue, comments on the grandee's words. A fanciful resemblance, too, has been thought to subsist between Jonson's three "sharks" and certain alchemists, alleged adventurers, who exploited their magical profes- sion at the court of " that impartial patron of useful, useless and pernicious arts, Rudolph II " of Germany. And lastly, the de- struction of the elixir in The Alchemist (IV 5.) has been thought reminiscent of The Chanouns Yemannes Tale in Chaucer's Canter- bury Tales. Dryden's notion (see his prologue to Albumazar, Dryden's Works, ed. Scott-Saintsbury, 1882-88, X. 417), that Jonson modelled The Alchemist on the academic play, Albumazar, is refuted by the fact that the latter was first acted in 1614, four years after The Alchemist had become well known to the stage. TO THE LADY, MOST Deserving her Name AND Bloud: Mary. La. Wroth. Madame, In the age of sacrifices, the truth of religion was not in the greatnesse, and fat of the offrings, but in the devotion, and zeale of the sacrificers : else, what could a handfull of gummes have done in the sight of a hecatombe ? or, how might I appeare at this altar, except with those affections, that no lesse love the light and wit- nesse, then they have the conscience of your vertue ? If what I offer beare an acceptable odour, and hold the first strength, it is your value of it, which remembers, where, when, and to whom it was kindled. Otherwise, as the times are, there comes rarely forth that thing, so full of authoritie or example, but by assiduitie and custome, growes lesse, and looses. This, yet, safe in your judge- ment (which is a Sidneys) is forbidden to speake more ; lest it talke, or looke like one of the ambitious faces of the time : who, the more they paint, are the lesse themselves. Your La : true honorer, Ben. Jonson. Most Deserving. The Quarto reads : most aequall with vertue, and her blood : The Grace and Glory or' women. Mary, etc. 4 Or, how might I. After hecatombe Q reads: "Or how, yet, might a gratefull minde be furnish'd against the initiuitie of Fortune; except, when she fail'd it, it had power to impart it selfe ? A way found out, to overcome even those, whom Fortune hath enabled to returne most, since they, yet leave themselves more. In this assurance am I planted; and stand with those affections at this Altar, as shall no more avoide the light and witnesse, then they doe the conscience of your vertue. If what I offer," etc. Jonson may have omitted this passage because he felt that the thought interfered with the sequence of his metaphor. 8 jour value. Q your valew, that remembers etc. 9 as the times are. Q in these times. 10 assiduitie. Q daylinesse. II This, jet. Q But this. [TO THE READER If thou beest more, thou art an understander, and then I trust thee. If thou art one that tak' st up, and but a pretender, beware at what hands thou receiv'st thy com- moditie ; for thou wert never more fair in the way to be cos'ned then in this age, in poetry, especially in playes : 5 wherein, now, the concupiscence of jigges, and daunces so raigneth, as to runne away from nature, and be afraid of her, is the onely point of art that tickles the spectators. But how out of purpose, and place, doe I name art ? when the professors are growne so obstinate contemners 10 of it, and presumers on their owne naturalls, as they are deriders of all diligence that way, and, by simple mock- ing at the termes, when they understand not the things, thinke to get of wittily with their ignorance. Nay, they are esteem 1 d the more learned, and sufficient for this, by 15 the multitude, through their excellent vice of judgement. For they commend writers, as they doe fencers, or wras- tlers ; who if they come in robustuously, and put for it with a great deale of violence, are receiv'd for the braver fellowes : when many times their owne rudenesse is the 20 cause of their disgrace, and a little touch of their adver- sary gives all that boisterous force the foyle. I deny not, but that these men, who alwaies seeke to doe more then inough, may some time happen on some thing that is [7c the Reader. Printed only in the Quarto. 6 jigges, and daunces. Some copies read Daunces and An- tikes. (Hathaway.) 16 multitude. Some copies read many. [Ibid.) tEo t\)t UcaDcr 171 good, and great ; but very seldome : and when it comes 25 it doth not recompence the rest of their ill. It sticks out perhaps, and is more eminent, because all is sordide, and vile about it : as lights are more discern' d in a thick darknesse, then a faint shadow. I speake not this, out of hope to doe good on any man, against his will 5 for I 30 know, if it were put to the question of theirs, and mine, the worse would finde more suffrages : because the most favour common errors. But I give thee this warning, that there is a great difference betweene those, that (to gain the opinion of copie) utter all they can, how ever 35 unfitly; and those that use election, and a meane. For it is onely the disease of the unskilfull, to thinke rude things greater then polish' d : or scatter' d more numerous then compos' d.] [TO MY FRIEND M r . BEN JONSON. UPON HIS ALCHEMIST. A master, read in flatteries great skill, Could not passe truth, though he would force his will, By praising this too much, to get more praise In his art, then you out of yours doe raise. Nor can full truth be uttered of your worth, Unlesse you your owne praises doe set forth : None else can write so skilfully, to shew Your praise : ages shall pay, yet still must owe. All I dare say, is, you have written well, In what exceeding height, I dare not tell. George Lucy.] To my friend. Printed in the Q ; and in F2 with the collected en- comia preceding the plays. THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY Subtle, the Alchemist. Epicure Mammon, a Face, the house-keeper. knight. Dol Common, their col- Surley, a gamster. league. Tribulation, a pastor of Dapper, a clarke. Amsterdam. D rugger, a tobacco-man. Ananias, a deacon there. Love-wit, master of the Kastrill, the angry boy. house. Da[me] Pliant, his sister: a widdow. Neighbours. Officers. Mutes. The Scene LONDON Play. Q Comodie. The Scene London, omitted in £). THE ARGUMENT T he sicknesse hot, a master quit, for feare, H is bouse in towne : and left one servant there. E ase him corrupted, and gave meanes to know A cheater, and his punque ; who, now brought low, L eaving their narrow practise, were become C os'ners at large : and, onely wanting some H ouse to set up, with him they here contract, E ach for a share, and all begin to act. M uch company they draw, and much abuse, I n casting figures, telling fortunes, newes, S elling of f yes, fat bawdry, with the stone : T ill it, and they, and all in fume are gone. PROLOGUE Fortune, that favours fooles, these two short houres IVe wish away ; both for your sakes, and ours, fudging Spectators : and desire in place, To th' author justice, to our selves but grace. Our scene is London, 'cause we would make knowne, 5 No countries mirth is better then our owne. No clime breeds better matter, for your whore, Bawd, squire, impostor, many persons more, Whose manners, now caWd humors, feed the stage : And which have still beene subject, for the rage 10 Or spleene of comick-writers. Though this pen Did never aime to grieve, but better men ; How e'er the age, he lives in, doth endure The vices that shee breeds, above their cure. But when the wholsome remedies are sweet, 15 And, in their working, gaine, and profit meet, He hopes to find no spirit so much diseas'd But will, with such faire correctives be pleas' d. For here, he doth not feare, who can apply. If there be any, that will sit so nigh zo Unto the streame, to looke what it doth run, They shall find things, they' Id thinke, or wish, were done ; They are so natur all follies, but so showne, As even the doers may see, and yet not owne. Prologue. Q The Prologue. 10 for. Q to. C^c aici)cmtet Act I. Scene I. \A Room in Love-wit's House. Enter] Face, \in a captain's uniform] Subtle, \xvith a vial, quarrelling, and followed by] Dol Common. [Face.] Beleev 't, I will. Subtle. Thy worst. I fart at thee. Dol. Ha' you your wits ? Why gentlemen ! for love Fac. Sirrah, I'll strip you- Sub. What to doe ? Lick figs Out at my Fac. Rogue, rogue, out of all your sleights. Dol. Nay, looke yee ! soveraigne, generall, are you mad-men ? Sub. O, let the wild sheepe loose. Uegumme your silkes With good strong water, an' you come. Dol. Will you have The neighbours heare you ? will you betray all ? Harke, I heare some body. 176 t£t)e #lctinm$t [acti. Fac. Sirrah Sub. I shall marre All that the taylor has made, if you approch. 10 Fac. You most notorious whelpe, you inso- lent slave. Dare you doe this ? Sub. Yes faith, yes faith. Fac. Why ! who Am I, my mungrill ? Who am I ? Sub. I'll tell you, Since you know not your selfe Fac. Speake lower, rogue. Sub. Yes. You were once (time's not long past) the good, i 5 Honest, plaine, livery-three-pound-thrum ; that kept Your masters worships house, here, in the Friers, For the vacations Fac. Will you be so lowd ? Sub. Since, by my meanes, translated suburb- captayne. Fac. By your meanes, Doctor dog ! Sub. Within mans memorie, 20 All this, I speake of. Fac. Why, I pray you, have I Beene countenanc'd by you ? or you, by me ? Doe but collect, sir, where I met you first. Sub. I doe not heare well. Scene I] Qtt)C £lt\)tmigt 1JJ Fac. Not of this, I thinlce it. But I shall put you in mind, sir, at Pie-corner, 25 Taking your meale of steeme in, from cookes stalls, Where, like the father of hunger, you did walke Piteously costive, with your pinch'd-horne-nose, And your complexion, of the Romane wash, Stuck full of black, and melancholique wormes, 30 Like poulder-cornes, shot, at th' Artillerie-yard. Sub. I wish you could advance your voice, a little. Fac. When you went pinn'd up, in the sev- eral! rags, Yo' had rak'd, and pick'd from dung-hills, before day, Your feet in mouldie slippers, for your kibes, 35 A felt of rugg, and a thin thredden cloake, That scarce would cover your no-buttocks Sub. So, sir ! Fac. When all your alchemy and your al- gebra, Your mineralls, vegetalls, and animalls, Your conjuring, cosning, and your dosen of trades, 40 Could not relieve your corps, with so much linnen Would make you tinder, but to see a fire ; 1 ga' you count'nance, credit for your coales, 25 Fi and F2 place a period after Pie-corner. 178 tElje #lcljemis;t [acti. Your stills, your glasses, your materialls, Built you a fornace, drew you customers, 45 Advanc'd all your black arts ; lent you, beside, A house to practise in Sub. Your masters house ? Fac. Where you have studied the more thriv- ing skill Of bawdrie, since. Sub. Yes, in your masters house. You, and the rats, here, kept possession. 50 Make it not strange. I know, yo' were one, could keepe The buttry-hatch still lock'd, and save the chip- pings, Sell the dole-beere to aqua-vitae-men, The which, together with your Christ-masse vailes, At post and paire, your letting out of counters, 55 Made you a pretty stock, some twentie markes, And gave you credit to converse with cob-webs, Here, since your mistris death hath broke up house. Fac. You might talke softlier, raskall. Sub. No, you scarabe, I'll thunder you, in peeces. I will teach you 6 ° How to beware, to tempt a Furie againe That carries tempest in his hand, and voice. Fac. The place has made you valiant. Scene I. ] X^\)t &\t\)t\Ui8t 1 79 Sub. No, your clothes. Thou vermine, have I tane thee out of dung, So poore, so wretched, when no living thing 65 Would keepe thee companie, but a spider, or worse ? Rais'd thee from broomes, and dust, and watring pots ? Sublim'd thee, and exalted thee, and fix'd thee F the third region, call'd our state of grace ? Wrought thee to spirit, to quintessence, with paines 7 o Would twise have won me the philosophers worke ? Put thee in words, and fashion ? made thee fit For more then ordinarie fellowships ? Giv'n thee thy othes, thy quarrelling dimen- sions ? Thy rules, to cheat at horse-race, cock-pit, cardes, 75 Dice, or what ever gallant tincture, else ? Made thee a second, in mine owne great art ? And have I this for thanke ? Doe you rebell ? Doe you flie out,i' the projection ? Would you be gone, now ? Dol. Gentlemen, what meane you ? 80 Will you marre all ? Sub. Slave, thou hadst had no name Dol. Will you un-doe your selves, with civill warre ? 69 caWdour. Q the high. 78 thanke. F2 thanks. 180 ®\)t &\t\)tmi$t [Act I. Sub. Never beene knowne, past equi clibanum, The heat of horse-dung, under ground, in cel- lars, Or an ale-house, darker then deafe John's : beene lost 85 To all mankind, but laundresses, and tapsters, Had not I beene. Dol. Do' you know who heares you, sover- aigne ? Fac. Sirrah Dol. Nay, generall, I thought you were civill. Fac. I shall turne desperate, if you grow thus lowd. Sub. And hang thy selfe, I care not. Fac. Hang thee, colliar, 90 And all thy pots, and pans, in picture I will, Since thou hast mov'd me. Dol. (O, this'll ore-throw all.) Fac. Write thee up bawd, in Paules ; have all thy tricks Of cosning with a hollow cole, dust, scrapings, Searching for things lost, with a sive, and sheeres, 95 Erecting figures, in your rowes of houses, And taking in of shaddowes, with a glasse, Told in red letters : and a face, cut for thee Worse then Gamaliel Ratsey's. Dol. Are you sound ? Ha' you your senses, masters ? Scene I] 1&)t 3\t\)tmi*t l8l Fac. I will have I00 A booke, but barely reckoning thy impostures, Shall prove a true philosophers stone, to printers. Sub. Away, you trencher-raskall. Fac. Out, you dog-leach, The vomit of all prisons Dol. Will you be Your owne destructions, gentlemen ? Fac. Still spew'd out 105 For lying too heavy o' the basket. Sub. Cheater. Fac. Bawd. Sub. Cow-herd. Fac. Conjurer. Sub. Cut-purse. Fac. Witch. Dol. O me ! We are ruin'd ! lost ! Ha' you no more regard To your reputations ? Where's your judgement ? S'light, Have yet, some care of me, o' your repub- lique 1IO Fac. Away this brach. I'll bring thee, rogue, within The statute of sorcerie, tricesimo tertio Of Harry the Eight : I, and (perhaps) thy necke Within a nooze, for laundring gold, and barb- ing it. 1 12 Fi period after tertio. 114 Q omits it. l82 1Kt)t &U\)tmi$t [Act I. Dol. You'll bring your head within a cocks- combe, will you ? She catcheth out Face his sword: And you, sir, with your menstrue, and Stakes • • Subt/es p/asse. gather it up. & S'death, you abominable paire of stinkards, Leave off your barking, and grow one againe, Or, by the light that shines, I'll cut your throats. I'll not be made a prey unto the marshall, no For ne're a snarling dog-bolt o' you both. Ha' you together cossen'd all this while, And all the world, and shall it now be said Yo' have made most courteous shift, to cosen your selves ? You will accuse him ? You will bring him in [To Face.] I2S Within the statute ? Who shall take your word ? A whore-sonne, upstart, apocryphall captayne, Whom not a Puritane, in Black-friers, will trust So much, as for a feather ! And you, too, [To Subtle.] Will give the cause, forsooth ? You will insult, 130 And claime a primacie, in the divisions ? You must be chiefe ? as if you, onely, had The poulder to project with ? and the worke Were not begun out of equalitie ? The venter tripartite? All things in common? 135 Without prioritie ? S'death, you perpetuall curres, She catcheth, etc. This and all marginal stage directions omitted in Q. Scene I] f&ty <\)tmi&t 183 Fall to your couples againe, and cossen kindly, And heartily, and lovingly, as you should, And loose not the beginning of a terme, Or, by this hand, I shall grow factious too, 140 And, take my part, and quit you. Fac. 'Tis his fault, He ever murmures, and objects his paines, And sayes, the weight of all lyes upon him. Sub. Why, so it do's. Dol. How does it ? Doe not we Sustaine our parts ? Sub. Yes, but they are not equall. 145 Dol. Why, if your part exceed to day, I hope Ours may, to morrow, match it. Sub. I, they may. Dol. May, murmuring mastiffe ! I, and doe. Death on me ! Helpe me to thrattell him. [Seizes Subtle by the throat.] Sub. Dorothee, Mistris Dorothee, O'ds precious, I'll doe any thing. What doe you meane ? 150 Dol. Because o' your fermentation and ciba- tion ? Sub. Not I, by heaven Dol. Your Sol, and Luna helpe me. Sub. Would I were hang'd then. I'll con- forme my selfe. 148 Death on me ! omitted in Q. 184 W)t &Ut)Cmi0t [Act I. Dol. Will you, sir ? doe so then, and quickly : sweare. Sub. What should I sweare ? Dol. To leave your faction, sir, 155 And labour, kindly, in the commune worke. Sub. Let me not breath, if I meant ought, beside. I onely us'd those speeches, as a spurre To him. Dol. I hope we need no spurres, sir. Doe we ? Fac. 'Slid, prove to day, who shall sharke best. Sub. Agreed. 160 Dol. Yes, and worke close, and friendly. Sub. 'Slight, the knot Shall grow the stronger, for this breach, with me. \They shake hands. ~\ Dol. Why so, my good babounes ! Shall we goe make A sort of sober, scirvy, precise neighbours, (That scarce have smil'd twise, sin' the king came in) 165 A feast of laughter, at our follies ? raskalls, Would runne themselves from breath, to see me ride, Or you t' have but a hole, to thrust your heads in, 157 Breath. So {,) and F. F2 breathe. Scene I. ] {£1)0 ^Ul)fmt0t 1 85 For which you should pay eare-rent ? No, agree. And may Don Provost ride a feasting, long, 170 In his old velvet jerken, and stayn'd scarfes, (My noble soveraigne, and worthy generall,) Ere we contribute a new crewell garter To his most worsted worship. Sub. Roy all Dol ! Spoken like Claridiana, and thv selfe. 17s Fac. For which, at supper, thou shalt sit in triumph, And not be stil'd Dol Common, but Dol Proper, Dol Singular: the longest cut, at night, Shall draw thee for his Dol Particular. \_Bell rings ivithout.~\ Sub. Who's that ? One rings. To the win- do', Dol. Pray heav'n 180 The master doe not trouble us, this quarter. Fac. O, feare not him. While there dyes one, a weeke, O' the plague, hee's safe, from thinking toward London. Beside, hee's busie at his hop-yards, now : I had a letter from him. If he doe, ^5 Hee'll send such word, for avring o' the house As you shall have sufficient time, to quit it : Though we breake up a fortnight, 'tis no matter. [ZW returns from the window.! Sub. Who is it, Dol ? 1 86 tEtje &lct)etm$t [Acti. Dol. A fine young quodling. Fac. O, My lawyers clarke, I lighted on, last night, I90 In Hol'bourne, at the Dagger. He would have (I told you of him) a familiar, To rifle with, at horses, and winne cups. Dol. O, let him in. Sub. Stay. Who shall doo 't ? Fac. Get you Your robes on. I will meet him, as going out. 195 Dol. And what shall I doe ? Fac. Not be seene, away. [Exit Dol.] Seeme you very reserv'd. Sub. Inough. Fac. [Aloud and retiring.] God b' w' you, sir, I pray you, let him know that I was here. His name is Dapper. I would gladly have staid, but Act I. Scene II. [Enter] Dapper [to] Face [and] Subtle, [who has hastily put on his velvet cap and gown.] [Dapper.] Captaine, I am here. Face. Who's that ? He's come, I think, Doc- tor. Good faith, sir, I was going away. Scene II] tTPtjC HlCtjCttttfift 187 Dap. In truth, F am very sorry, Captaine. Fac. But I thought Sure, I should meet you. Dap. I, I'm very glad. F had a scirvy writ, or two, to make, 5 And I had lent my watch last night, to one That dines, to-day, at the shrieffs : and so was rob'd Of my passe-time. Is this the cunning-man ? Fac. This is his worship. Dap. Is he a doctor ? Fac. Yes. Dap. And ha' you broke with him, Captain ? Fac. I. Dap. And how ? IO Fac. Faith, he do's make the matter, sir, so daintie, I know not what to say Dap. Not so, good Captaine. Fac. Would I were fairely rid on't, beleeve me. Dap. Nay, now you grieve me, sir. Why should you wish so ? I dare assure you. I'll not be ungratefull. 15 Fac. I cannot thinke you will, sir. But the law 3 r am. This illustrates Jonson's marking of intended elisions. 4 /, Pm. Q I'm, etc. 1 88 Wqz glrtjemist [acti. Is such a thing — And then, he sayes, Reade's matter Falling so lately Dap. Reade ? He was an asse, And dealt, sir, with a foole. Fac. It was a clarke, sir. Dap. A clarke ? Fac. Nay, heare me, sir, you know the law 20 Better, I thinke Dap. I should, sir, and the danger. You know I shew'd the statute to you ? Fac. You did so. Dap. And will I tell, then ? By this hand, of flesh, Would it might never wright good court-hand, more, If I discover. What doe you thinke of me, 25 That I am a Chiause ? Fac. What's that ? Dap. The Turke was, here As one would say, doe you thinke I am a Turke ? Fac. I'll tell the Doctor so. Dap. Doe, good sweet Captaine. Fac. Come, noble Doctor, 'pray thee, let's prevaile ; This is the gentleman, and he is no Chiause. 30 Subtle. Captaine, I have return'd you all my answere. Scene II.] Wt)t <\)tiniSt 189 I would doe much, sir, for your love — But this I neither may, nor can. Fac. Tut, doe not say so. You deale, now, with a noble fellow, Doctor, One that will thanke you, richly, and h' is no Chiause. 35 Let that, sir, move you. Sub. Pray you, forbeare Fac. He has Foure angels, here Sub. You doe me wrong, good sir. Fac. Doctor, wherein ? To tempt you, with these spirits ? Sub. To tempt my art, and love, sir, to my perill. 'Fore heav'n, I scarce can thinke you are my friend, 40 That so would draw me to apparant danger. Fac. I draw you ? A horse draw you, and a halter, You, and your flies together Dap. Nay, good Captayne. Fac. That know no difference of men. Sub. Good wordes, sir. Fac. Good deeds, sir, Doctor dogs-meate. 'Slight, I bring you 45 No cheating Clim-o'-the-Cloughs, or Claribels, 45 dogs-meate, Q dogges-mouth. S° 190 Wfyt 3lt\)tmi8t [Act I. That looke as bigge as five-and-fiftie, and flush, And spit out secrets, like hot custard Dap. Captayne. Fac. Nor any melancholike under-scribe, Shall tell the Vicar : but, a speciall gentle, That is the heire to fortie markes, a yeere, Consorts with the small poets of the time, Is the sole hope of his old grand-mother, That knowes the law, and writes you sixe faire hands, Is a fine clarke, and has his cyphring perfect, 55 Will take his oath, o' the Greeke Xenophon, If need be, in his pocket : and can court His mistris, out of Ovid. Dap. Nay, deare Captayne. Fac. Did you not tell me so ? Dap. Yes ; but I'ld ha' you Use Master Doctor, with some more respect. 60 Fac. Hang him, proud stagge, with his broad velvet head. But, for your sake, I'ld choake, ere I would change An article of breath, with such a puck-fist Come, let's be gone. [Going.] Sub. Pray you, le' me speake with you. Dap. His worship calls you, Captayne. 56 Xenophoti, Q Testament. Scene II. ] X&ty &U\)tmi$t 1 9 * Fac. I am sorry, 65 I e'er imbarqu'd my selfe, in such a busi- nesse. Dap. Nay, good sir. He did call you. Fac. Will he take, then ? Sub. First, heare me Fac. Not a syllable, 'lesse you take. Sub. Pray ye', sir Fac. Upon no termes, but an assumpsit. „ . Sub. Your humor must be law. the money. Fac. Why, now, sir, talke. 70 Now, I dare heare you with mine honour. Speake. So may this gentleman too. Sub. Why, sir [Offering to whisper Face.~\ Fac. No whispring. Sub. 'Fore heav'n, you doe not apprehend the losse You doe your selfe, in this. Fac. Wherein ? for what ? Sub. Mary, to be so' importunate for one, 75 That, when he has it, will un-doe you all : He'll winne up all the money i' the towne. Fac. How ! Sub. Yes. And blow up gamster, after gam- ster, As they doe crackers, in a puppit-play. 192 1&\\t 3\t\)tmi8t [Act I. If I doe give him a familiar, 80 Give you him all you play for ; never set him : For he will have it. Fac. Y' are mistaken, Doctor. Why, he do's aske one but for cups, and horses, A rifling flye : none o' your great familiars. Dap. Yes, Captayne, I would have it, for all games. 85 Sub. I told you so. Fac. [Taking Dapper aside.~\ 'Slight, that's a new businesse ! I understood you, a tame bird, to flie Twise in a terme, or so ; on Friday-nights, When you had left the office : for a nagge, Of fortie, or flftie shillings. Dap. I, 'tis true, sir, 90 But I doe thinke, now, I shall leave the law, And therefore Fac. Why, this changes quite the case ! Do' you thinke, that I dare move him ? Dap. If you please, sir, All's one to him, I see. Fac. What ! for that money ? I cannot with my conscience. Nor should you 95 Make the request, me thinkes. Dap. No, sir, I meane To adde consideration. Scene II.] tEtjC Q\t\)tmi$t 193 Fac. Why, then, sir, I'll trie. [Goes to Subtle.] Say that it were for all games, Doctor ? Sub. I say, then, not a mouth shall eate for him At any ordinarie, but o' the score, i 00 That is a gaming mouth, conceive me. Fac. Indeed ! Sub. Hee'll draw you all the treasure of the realme, If it be set him. Fac. Speake you this from art ? Sub. I, sir, and reason too : the ground of art. H'is o' the onely best complexion, 105 The Queene of Fairy loves. Fac. What ! is he ! Sub. Peace. Hee'll over-heare you. Sir, should shee but see him Fac. What ? Sub. Do not you tell him. Fac. Will he win at cards too ? Sub. The spirits of dead Holland, living Isaac, You'ld sweare, were in him : such a vigorous luck no 98 Say. F and Q misprint Say, that it. 194 ^Eije &\t\)tmi&t [acti. As cannot be resisted. 'Slight hee'll put Sixe o' your gallants, to a cloke, indeed. Fac. A strange successe, that some man shall be borne too ! Sub. He heares you, man Dap. Sir, He not be ingratefull. Fac. Faith, I have confidence in his good nature : 115 You heare, he sayes he will not be ingrate- full. Sub. Why, as you please, my venture followes yours. Fac. Troth, doe it, Doctor. Thinke him trustie, and make him. He may make us both happy in an houre : Win some five thousand pound, and send us two on't. 120 Dap. Beleeve it, and I will, sir. Fac. And you shall, sir. , ace **.?. J > htm aside. You have heard all ? Dap. No, what was't ? nothing, I sir. Fac. Nothing ? Dap. A little, sir. Fac. Well, a rare starre Raign'd at your birth. Dap. At mine, sir ? No. Fac. The Doctor Sweares that you are Scene II.] Qfyt SUfytltttet 195 Sub. Nay, Captaine, yo'll tell all, now. i*5 Fac. Allyed to the Queene of Faerie. Dap. Who ? that I am ? Beleeve it, no such matter Fac. Yes, and that Yo' were borne with a caule o' your head. Dap. Who saies so ? Fac. Come, You know it well inough, though you dis- semble it. Dap. I-fac, I doe not. You are mistaken. Fac. How ! 13° Sweare by your fac ? and in a thing so knowne Unto the Doctor ? How shall we, sir, trust you I' the other matter ? Can we ever thinke, When you have wonne five, or sixe thousand pound, You'll send us shares in't, by this rate ? Dap. By Jove, sir, 135 I'll winne ten thousand pound, and send you halfe. I-fac's no oath. Sub. No, no, he did but jest. Fac. Goe too. Goe, thanke the Doctor. He's your friend To take it so. Dap. I thanke his worship. 135 Jo-ve, Q Gad. 137 I-fac's, Q I fac is. 196 tE^e glctjemiat [act i. Fac. So ? Another angell. Dap. Must I ? Fac. Must you ? 'Slight, J 4° What else is thankes ? Will you be triviall ? Doctor, \_Dapper gives him the money. ~\ When must he come, for his familiar ? Dap. Shall I not ha' it with me ? Sub. O, good sir ! There must a world of ceremonies passe, You must be bath'd and fumigated, first ; 14.5 Besides, the Queene of Faerie do's not rise, Till it be noone. Fac. Not, if she daunc'd, to night. Sub. And she must blesse it. Fac. Did you never see Her royall grace, yet ? Dap. Whom ? Fac. Your aunt of Faerie ? Sub. Not, since she kist him, in the cradle, Captayne, I5 o I can resolve you that. Fac. Well, see her grace, What ere it cost you, for a thing that I know! It will be somewhat hard to compasse : but, How ever, see her. You are made, beleeve it, If you can see her. Her grace is a lone woman, 155 And very rich, and if she take a phant'sye, Scene II] ^e Qit\)tmi&t 1 97 She will doe strange things. See her, at any hand. 'Slid, she may hap to leave you all she has ! It is the Doctors feare. Dap. How will't be done, then ? Fac. Let me alone, take you no thought. Doe you 160 But say to me, Captayne, I'll see her grace. Dap. Captain, I'll see her grace. Fac. Inough. Sub. Who's there ? 0ne knocks without. Anone. \_Aside to Face.~\ (Conduct him forth by the back-way.) Sir, against one a clock, prepare your selfe, Till when you must be fasting; onely take 165 Three drops of vinegar, in, at your nose; Two at your mouth ; and one, at either eare ; Then, bath your fingers endes ; and wash your eyes ; To sharpen your five senses ; and cry, hum, Thrise; and then buz, as often ; and then, come. 17° Fac. Can you remember this ? Dap. I warrant you. Fac. Well, then, away. 'Tis, but your be- stowing Some twenty nobles, 'mong her graces servants ; And, put on a cleane shirt : You doe not know What grace her grace may doe you in cleane linnen. [Exeunt Face and Dapper. ~] 175 198 Qfyt #lct)emt0t [acti. Act I. Scene III. Subtle, \later~\ Drugger, \and\ Face. \Subtle.~\ Come in. [Enter Drugger. .] (Good wives, I pray you forbeare me, now. Troth I can doe you no good, till after-noone.) What is your name, say you, Abel Drugger ? Drugger. Yes, sir. Sub. A seller of tabacco ? Dru. Yes, sir. Sub. 'Umh. Free of the Grocers ? Dru. I, and't please you. Sub. Well Your businesse, Abel ? Dru. This, and't please your worship, I' am a yong beginner, and am building Of a new shop, and't like your worship ; just, At corner of a street : (Here's the plot on't.) And I would know, by art, sir, of your wor- ship, Which way I should make my dore, by necro- mancie. And, where my shelves. And which should be for boxes. And, which for pots. I would be glad to thrive, sir. 1 Good ivi-vcs, etc. Qj)mits in most cases the parentheses of Fi denoting asides. Scene III.] ®\)t gUfyemfct 199 And, I was wish'd to your worship, by a gen- tleman, One Captaine Face, that say's you know mens planets, 15 And their good angels, and their bad. Sub. I doe, If I doe see 'hem [Re-enter Face.l Face. What ! my honest Abel ? Thou art well met, here ! Dru. Troth, sir, I was speaking, Just, as your worship came here, of your wor- ship. I pray you, speake for me to Master Doctor. 20 Fac. He shall doe any thing. Doctor, doe you heare ? This is my friend, Abel, an honest fellow, He lets me have good tabacco, and he do's not Sophisticate it, with sack-lees, or oyle, Nor washes it in muscadell, and graines, . 25 Nor buries it, in gravell, under ground, Wrap'd up in greasie leather, or piss'd clouts : But keeps it in fine lilly-pots, that open'd, Smell like conserve of roses, or French beanes. He has his maple block, his silver tongs, 3° Winchester pipes, and fire of juniper. A neate, spruce-honest-fellow, and no gold- smith. 200 X&\)t &U1)tmi&t [Act I. Sub. H' is a fortunate fellow, that I am sure on Fac. Alreadie, sir, ha' vou found it ? Lo'thee, Abel! Sub. And, in right way to'ward riches Fac. Sir. Sub. This summer, 35 He will be of the clothing of his companie: And, next spring, call'd to the scarlet. Spend what he can. Fac. What, and so little beard ? Sub. Sir, you must thinke, He may have a receipt, to make haire come. But hee'll be wise, preserve his youth, and fine for't: His fortune lookes for him, another way. Fac. 'Slid, Doctor, how canst thou know this so soone ? V am amus'd, at that ! Sub. By a rule, Captaine, In metaposcopie, which I doe worke by, A certaine starre i' the fore-head, which you see not. 45 Your chest-nut, or your olive-colour'd face Do's never faile : and your long eare doth promise. I knew't, by certaine spots too, in his teeth, And on the naile of his mercuriall finger. 40 Scene III.] Qtf)t #lct)emt0t 201 Fac. Which finger's that ? Sub. His little finger. Looke. 50 Yo' were borne upon a Wensday ? Dru. Yes, indeed, sir. Sub. The thumbe, in chiromantie, we give Venus ; The fore-finger to Jove ; the midst, to Saturne ; The ring to Sol ; the least, to Mercurie : Who was the lord, sir, of his horoscope, 55 His house of life being Libra, which fore- shew'd, He should be a merchant, and should trade with ballance. Fac. Why, this is strange ! Is't not, honest Nab? Sub. There is a ship now, comming from Ormus, That shall yeeld him, such a commoditie 60 Of drugs — This is the west, and this the south ? [Pointing to the plan.~\ Dru. Yes, sir. Sub. And those are your two sides ? Dru. I, sir. Sub. Make me your dore, then, south; your broad side, west : And, on the east-side of your shop, aloft, Write Mathlai, Tarmiel, and Baraborat ; 65 Upon the north-part, Rael, Velel, Thiel. 202 W$t Qltfytmi&t [Act I. They are the names of those mercurial spirits, That doe fright flyes from boxes. Dru. Yes, sir. Sub. And Beneath your threshold, bury me a load-stone To draw in gallants, that weare spurres : the rest, 70 They'll seeme to follow. Fac. That's a secret, Nab ! Sub. And, on your stall, a puppet, with a vice, And a court-fucus, to call city-dames. You shall deale much, with mineralls. Dru. Sir, I have, At home, alreadie Sub. I, I know, you 'have arsnike, 75 Vitriol, sal-tartre, argaile, alkaly, Cinoper : I know all. This fellow, Captaine, Will come, in time, to be a great distiller, And give a say (I will not say directly, But very faire) at the philosophers stone. 80 Fac. Why, how now, Abel ! is this true ? Dru. Good Captaine, What must I give ? [Aside to Face.~\ Fac. Nay, He not counsell thee. Thou hearst,what wealth (he sayes, spend what thou canst) Th'art like to come too. 67 mercurial ', J,) mercurian. sczne in.] tEtje &lcljemtet 203 Dru. I would gi' him a crowne. Fac. A crowne ! and toward such a fortune ? Hart, 85 Thou shalt rather gi' him thy shop. No gold about thee ? Dru. Yes, I have a portague, I ha' kept this halfe yeere. Fac. Out on thee, Nab ; 'slight, there was such an offer 'Shalt keepe't no longer, I'll gi'it him for thee. Doctor, Nab prayes your worship, to drinke this : and sweares 90 He will appeare more gratefull, as your skill Do's raise him in the world. Dru. I would intreat Another favour of his worship. •Fac. What is't, Nab ? Dru. But, to looke over, sir, my almanack, And crosse out my ill-dayes, that I may neither 95 Bargaine, nor trust upon them. Fac. That he shall, Nab. Leave it, it shall be done, 'gainst after-noone. Sub. And a direction for his shelves. Fac. Now, Nab ? Art thou well pleas'd, Nab ? Dru. Thanke, sir, both your worships. Fac. Away. [Exit Drugger.] 85 And toward, F 'nd toward. 204 tE^e #lct)emi0t [act i. Why, now, you smoky persecuter of nature ! ioo Now, doe you see, that some-thing's to be done, Beside your beech-coale and your cor'sive waters, Your crosse-lets, crucibles, and cucurbites ? You must have stuffe, brought home to you, to worke on ? And, yet you thinke, I am at no expence, 105 In searching out these veines, then following 'hem, Then trying 'hem out. 'Fore God, my intelli- gence Costs me more money, then my share oft comes too, In these rare workes. Sub. You' are pleasant, sir. How now ? Act I. Scene IV. Face, [enter] Dol [to] Subtle. [Subtle.] What say's, my daintie Dolkin ? Dol. Yonder fish-wife Will not away. And there's your giantesse, The bawd of Lambeth. Sub. Hart, I cannot speake with 'hem. Dol. Not, afore night, I have told 'hem, in a voice, 107 God. Fi god, and so throughout. scenziv.] ^e alchemist 205 Thorough the trunke, like one of your famil- iars. 5 But I have spied Sir Epicure Mammon Sub. Where? Dol. Comming along, at far end of the lane, Slow of his feet, but earnest of his tongue To one, that's with him. Sub. Face, goe you, and shift. [Exit Face.~\ Dol, you must presently make readie, too 10 Dol. Why, what's the matter ? Sub. O, I did looke for him With the sunnes rising : 'marvaile, he could sleepe ! This is the day, I am to perfect for him The magisterium, our great worke, the stone ; And yeeld it, made, into his hands : of which, 15 He has, this month, talk'd, as he were pos- sess'd. And, now, hee's dealing peeces on't, away. Me thinkes, I see him, entring ordinaries, Dispensing for the poxe; and plaguy-houses, Reaching his dose ; walking More-fields for lepers ; 20 And offring citizens-wives pomander-brace- lets, As his preservative, made of the elixir ; Searching the spittle, to make old bawdes yong; 16 possess' d. Q_ possess' d on't. 206 W§t #lct)emi0t [act i. And the high-waies, for beggars, to make rich : I see no end of his labours. He will make 25 Nature asham'd, of her long sleepe : when art, Who's but a step-dame, shall doe more, then shee, In her best love to man-kind, ever could. If his dreame last, hee'll turne the age, to gold. \Exeunt.~\ Act II. Scene I. \_Enter~\ Mammon, Surly. [Mammon.~\ 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 Salomon's Ophir ! He was sayling to't, Three yeeres, but we have reach'd it in ten months. 5 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 deale with the hollow die, Or the fraile card. No more be at charge of keeping 10 The livery-punke, for the yong heire, that must Seale, at all houres, in his shirt. No more If he denie, ha' him beaten to't, as he is That brings him the commoditie. No more Shall thirst of satten, or the covetous hunger 15 Of velvet entrailes, for a rude-spun cloke, To be displaid at Madame Augusta's, make The sonnes of sword, and hazzard fall before 1 1 the, Qjny. 208 tElje &\t\)tmi8t [act ii. The golden calfe, and on their knees, whole nights, Commit idolatrie with wine, and trumpets : 20 Or goe a feasting, after drum and ensigne. No more of this. You shall start up yong vice- royes, And have your punques and punquettees, my Surly. And unto thee, I speake it first, be rich. Where is my Subtle, there ? Within hough ? 25 [Face.'] {Within) Sir. Hee'll come to you, by and by. Mam. That's his fire-drake, His lungs, his Zephyrus,he that puffes his coales, Till he firke nature up, in her owne center. You are not faithfull, sir. This night, I'll change All, that is mettall, in my house, to gold. 30 And, early in the morning, will I send To all the plumbers, and the pewterers, And buy their tin, and lead up : and to Loth- bury, For all the copper. Surly. What, and turne that too ? Mam. Yes, and I'll purchase Devonshire, and Cornwaile, 35 And make them perfect Indies ! You admire now ? 30 my, Fi and F2 thy. Scene I.] f&ty 0lct)emtSt 200, Sur. No faith. Mam. But when you see th'effects of the great med'cine ! Of which one part projected on a hundred Of Mercuric, or Venus, or the Moone, Shall turne it, to as many of the Sunne j 40 Nay, to a thousand, so ad infinitum : You will beleeve me. Sur. Yes, when I see't, I will. But, if my eyes do cossen me so (and I Giving 'hem no occasion) sure, I'll have A whore, shall piss 'hem out, next day. Mam. Ha! Why? 45 Doe you thinke, I fable with you ? I assure you, He that has once the flower of the sunne The perfect ruby, which we call elixir, Not onely can doe that, but by it's vertue, Can confer honour, love, respect, long life, 50 Give safetie, valure : yea, and victorie, To whom he will. In eight, and twentie dayes, I'll make an old man, of fourescore, a childe. Sur. No doubt hee's that alreadie. Mam. Nay, I meane, Restore his yeeres, renew him, like an eagle, 55 To the fifth age ; make him get sonnes, and daughters, Yong giants ; as our philosophers have done, 49 It's. So Q and F. 210 tElje 2Lk\)tmi$t [actii. (The antient patriarckes afore the floud), But taking, once a weeke, on a knives point, The quantitie of a graine of mustard, of it : 60 Become stout Marses, and beget yong Cupids. Sur. The decay'd vestalls of Pickt-hatch would thanke you, That keepe the fire a-live, there. Mam. 'Tis the secret Of nature, naturiz'd 'gainst all infections, Cures all diseases, comming of all causes, 65 A month's griefe, in a day ; a yeeres, in twelve : And, of what age soever, in a month. Past all the doses, of your drugging doctors. I'll undertake, withall, to fright the plague Out o' the kingdome, in three months. Sur. And I'll 7° Be bound, the players shall sing your praises, then, Without their poets. Mam. Sir, I'll doo't. Meane time, I'll give away so much, unto my man, Shall serve th' whole citie, with preservative, Weekely, each house his dose, and at the rate 75 Sur. As he that built the water-worke, do's with water ? Mam. You are incredulous. 58 F and Qjjmit the comma. 62, -vestal/s. Qjind Fi vestall's. Scene I] Wt)t fSLltfytttltet 211 Sur. Faith, I have a humor, I would not willingly be gull'd. Your stone Cannot transmute me. Mam. Pertinax, Surly. Will you beleeve antiquitie ? recordes ? 80 I'll shew you a booke, where Moses, and his sister, And Salomon have written, of the art ; I, and a treatise penn'd by Adam. Sur. How ! Mam. O' the philosophers stone, and in High-Dutch. Sur. Did Adam write, sir, in High-Dutch? Mam. He did : 85 Which proves it was the primitive tongue. Sur. What paper ? Mam. On cedar board. Sur. O that, indeed (they say) Will last 'gainst wormes. Mam. 'Tis like your Irish wood, 'Gainst cob-webs. I have a piece of Jasons fleece, too, Which was no other, then a booke of alchemie, 90 Writ in large sheepe-skin,a good fat ram-vellam. Such was Pythagoras' thigh, Pandora's tub ; And, all that fable of Medeas charmes, The manner of our worke : the bulls, our for- nace, 92 Pythagoras, Q and F Pythagora's. 212 tB^C#lrt)ettttet [Act II. Still breathing fire ; our argent-vive, the dragon : 95 The dragons teeth, mercury sublimate, That keepes the whitenesse, hardnesse, and the biting; And they are gather'd, into Jason's helme, (Th' alembeke) and then sow'd in Mars his field, And, thence, sublim'd so often, till they are fix'd. i 00 Both this, th' Hesperian garden, Cadmus storie, Jove's shower, the boone of Midas, Argus eyes, Boccace his Demogorgon, thousands more, All abstract riddles of our stone. [Enter Face as a Servant. ,] How now ? Act II. Scene II. Mammon, Face, Surly. \_Mammon.~^ Doe wee succeed ? Is our day come? and hold's it? Face. The evening will set red, upon you, sir; You have colour for it, crimson : the red fer- ment Has done his office. Three houres hence, pre- pare you To see projection. Mam. Pertinax, my Surly, 5 Scene II. ] tEl)C &\t\)Cmi$t 2 1 3 Againe, I say to thee, aloud : be rich. This day, thou shalt have ingots : and, to morrow, Give lords th' affront. Is it, my Zephyrus, right ? Blushes the bolts-head ? Fac. Like a wench with child, sir, That were, but now, discover'd to her master. 10 Mam. Excellent wittie Lungs ! My onely care is, Where to get stufFe, inough now, to project on, This towne will not halfe serve me. Fac. No, sir ? Buy The covering of o' churches. Mam. That's true. Fac. Yes. Let 'hem stand bare, as doe their auditorie. 15 Or cap 'hem, new, with shingles. Mam. No, good thatch : Thatch will lie light upo' the rafters, Lungs. Lungs, I will manumit thee, from the fornace ; I will restore thee thy complexion, Puffe, Lost in the embers ; and repaire this braine, 20 Hurt wi' the fume o' the mettalls. Fac. I have blowne, sir, Hard, for your worship ; throwne by many a coale When 'twas not beech ; weigh'd those I put in, just, 13 Buy, g Take. 21 wF, Q with. 214 tEtye <\)tmi&t [Acni. To keepe your heat, still even ; these bleard- eyes Have wak'd, to reade your severall colours, sir, 25 Of the pale citron, the greene lyon, the crow, The peacocks taile, the plumed swan. Mam. And, lastly, Thou hast descryed the flower, the sanguis agni? Fac. Yes, sir. Mam. Where's master ? Fac. At's praiers, sir, he, Good man, hee's doing his devotions, 30 For the successe. Mam. Lungs, I will set a period, To all thy labours : thou shalt be the master Of my seraglia. Fac. Good, sir. Mam. But, doe you heare ? I'll geld you, Lungs. Fac. Yes, sir. Mam. For I doe meane To have a list of wives, and concubines, 35 Equall with Salomon ; who had the stone Alike, with me : and I will make me, a back With the elixir, that shall be as tough As Hercules, to encounter fiftie a night. Th'art sure, thou saw'st it bloud ? Fac. Both bloud, and spirit, sir. 40 Scene II] 1B\)t &U\)tX\Xi$t 21 5 Mam. I will have all my beds, blowne up ; not stuft : Downe is too hard. And then, mine oval roome, Fill'd with such pictures, as Tiberius tooke From Elephantis : and dull Aretine But coldly imitated. Then, my glasses, 45 Cut in more subtill angles, to disperse, And multiply the figures, as I walke Naked betweene my succubce. My mists I'le have of perfume, vapor'd 'bout the roome, To lose our selves in ; and my baths, like pits 5° To fall into : from whence, we will come forth, And rowle us drie in gossamour, and roses. (Is it arrived at ruby ?) — Where I spie A wealthy citizen, or rich lawyer, Have a sublim'd pure wife, unto that fellow 55 I'll send a thousand pound, to be my cuckold. Fac. And I shall carry it ? Mam. No. I'll ha' no bawds, But fathers, and mothers. They will doe it best. Best of all others. And, my flatterers Shall be the pure, and gravest of divines, 60 That I can get for money. My mere fooles, Eloquent burgesses, and then my poets The same that writ so subtly of the fart, Whom I will entertaine, still, for that subject. 58, 59 They will doe . . others, omitted in Q. 60 pure, Q best 216 tElje aictjemist [act ii. The few, that would give out themselves, to be 65 Court, and towne-stallions, and, each where, belye Ladies, who are knowne most innocent, for them ; Those will I begge, to make me eunuchs of: And they shall fan me with ten estrich tailes A piece, made in a plume, to gather wind. 70 We will be brave, Puffe, now we ha' the med'- cine. My meat, shall all come in, in Indian shells, Dishes of agate, set in gold, and studded, With emeralds, saphyres, hiacynths, and rubies. The tongues of carpes, dormise, and camels heeles, 75 Boil'd i' the spirit of Sol, and dissolv'd pearle, (Apicius diet, 'gainst the epilepsie) And I will eate these broaths, with spoones of amber, Headed with diamant, and carbuncle. My foot-boy shall eate phesants, calverd sal- mons, 80 Knots, godwits, lampreys : I my selfe will have The beards of barbels, serv'd, in stead of sallades ; Oild mushromes ; and the swelling unctuous paps Of a fat pregnant sow, newly cut off, Drest with an exquisite, and poynant sauce ; 85 81 lampreys, Fl and F2 lamprey's. Scene II.] f&ty ^IctjCmtSt 2 1 J For which, He say unto my cooke, there's gold, Goe forth, and be a knight. Fac. Sir, I'll goe looke A little, how it heightens. [iix/V.] Mam. Doe. My shirts I'll have of taffata-sarsnet, soft, and light As cob-webs; and for all my other rayment 90 It shall be such, as might provoke the Persian ; Were he to teach the world riot, a new. My gloves of fishes, and birds-skins, perfum'd With gummes of paradise, and easterne aire Surly. And do' you thinke to have the stone, with this ? 95 Mam. No, I doe thinke, t' have all this, with the stone. Sur. Why, I have heard, he must be homo frugi, A pious, holy, and religious man, One free from mortall sinne, a very virgin. Mam. That makes it, sir, he is so. But I buy it. 100 My venter brings it me. He, honest wretch, A notable, superstitious, good soule, Has worne his knees bare, and his slippers bald, With prayer, and fasting for it : and, sir, let him Do' it alone, for me, still. Here he comes, 105 Not a prophane word, afore him : 'tis poyson. 218 Ww aictjetntet [actii. Act II. Scene III. Mammon, Subtle [enters], Surly; \_later~\ Face. [Mammon.] Good morrow, father. Subtle. Gentle sonne, good morrow, And, to your friend, there. What is he, is with you ? Mam. An heretique, that I did bring along, I hope, sir, to convert him. Sub. Sonne, I doubt Yo' are covetous, that thus you meet your time I' the just point : prevent your day, at morning. This argues something, worthy of a feare Of importune, and carnall appetite. Take heed, you doe not cause the blessing leave you, With your ungovern'd hast. I should be sorry, To see my labours, now e'ene at perfection, Got by long watching, and large patience, Not prosper, where my love, and zeale hath plac'd 'hem. Which (heaven I call to witnesse,with yourselfe, To whom, I have pour'd my thoughts) in all my ends, Have look'd no way, but unto publique good, To pious uses, and deere charitie, Now growne a prodigie with men. Wherein 1 8 Now, Fi and Q No. F2 corrects. *s Scene III.] &f)t QUtytmitit 219 If you, my sonne, should now prevaricate, And, to your owne particular lusts, employ 20 So great, and catholique a blisse : be sure, A curse will follow, yea, and overtake Your subtle, and most secret wayes. Mam. I know, sir, You shall not need to feare me. I but come, To ha* you confute this gentleman. Surly. Who is, 25 Indeed, sir, somewhat caustive of beliefe Toward your stone : would not be gull'd. Sub. Well, sonne, All that I can convince him in, is this, The worke is done : bright Sol is in his robe. We have a med'cine of the triple soule, 30 The glorified spirit. Thankes be to heaven, And make us worthy of it. lUcit (Spiegel. Face [within] . Anone, sir. Sub. Looke well to the register, And let your heat, still, lessen by degrees, To the aludels. Fac. [within] . Yes, sir. Sub. Did you looke 35 O' the bolts-head yet ? Fac. [within]. Which, on D. sir? Sub. I. What's the complexion ? 25 Surly. FSur;QSub. 36 F and Q omit comma after Which. 220 tEije &k\)tmi$t [act ii. Fac. [within] . Whitish. Sub. Infuse vinegar, To draw his volatile substance, and his tincture: And let the water in glasse E. be feltred, And put into the gripes egge. Lute him well ; 40 And leave him clos'd in balneo. Fac. [within] . I will, sir. Sur. What a brave language here is ? next to canting ? Sub. F have another worke ; you never saw, sonne, That, three dayes since, past the philosophers wheele, In the lent heat of Athanor ; and's become 45 Sulphur o' nature. Mam. But 'tis for me ? Sub. What need you ? You have inough, in that is, perfect. Mam. O, but Sub. Why, this is covetise ! Mam. No, I assure you, I shall employ it all, in pious uses, Founding of colledges, and grammar schooles, 50 Marrying yong virgins, building hospitalls, And now, and then, a church. [Re-enter Face.l Sub. How now ? Scene III.] f&ty &lcl)Cmt$t 221 Fac. Sir, please you, Shall I not change the feltre ? Sub. Mary, yes. And bring me the complexion of glasse B. [Exit Face.] Mam. Ha' you another ? Sub. Yes, sonne, were I assur'd S5 Your pietie were firme, we would not want The meanes to glorifie it. But I hope the best : I meane to tinct C. in sand-heat, to morrow, And give him imbibition. Mam. Of white oile ? Sub. No, sir, of red. F. is come over the helme too, 60 I thanke my Maker, in S. Maries bath, And shewes lac virginis. Blessed be heaven. I sent you of his faxes there, calcin'd : Out of that calx, P ha' wonne the salt of mer- cury. Mam. By powring on your rectified water ? 65 Sub. Yes, and reverberating in Athanor. [Re-enter Face.l How now ? What colour saies it ? Fac. The ground black, sir. Mam. That's your crowes-head ? Sur. Your cocks-comb's, is't not ? 222 tEtye #lCljettttet [Act II. Sub. No, 'tis not perfect, would it were the crow. That worke wants some-thing. Sur. (O, I look'd for this. 7 o The hay is a pitching.) Sub. Are you sure, you loos'd 'hem F their owne menstrue ? Fac. Yes, sir, and then married 'hem, And put 'hem in a bolts-head, nipp'd to digestion, According as you bad me ; when I set The liquor of Mars to circulation, 75 In the same heat. Sub. The processe, then, was right. Fac. Yes, by the token, sir, the retort brake, And what was sav'd, was put into the pellicane, And sign'd with Hermes seale. Sub. I thinke 'twas so. We should have a new amalgama. Sur. (O, this ferret 80 Is ranke as any pole-cat.) Sub. But I care not. Let him e'ene die; we have enough beside, In embrion. H. ha's his white shirt on ? Fac. Yes, sir, Hee's ripe for Ulceration : he stands warme, In his ash-fire. I would not, you should let 85 Any die now, if I might counsell, sir, For lucks sake to the rest. It is not good. 70, 80 Fi includes Sur. in parenthesis. Q omits it. Scene III.] f&ty &lct)ettU0t 223 Mam. He saies right. Sur. I, are you bolted ? Fac. Nay, I know't, sir, I' have seene th' ill fortune. What is some three ounces Of fresh materialls ? Mam. Is't no more ? Fac. No more, sir, 90 Of gold, t' amalgame, with some sixe of mer- curic Mam. Away, here's money. What will serve ? Fac. Aske him, sir. Mam. How much ? Sub. Give him nine pound : you may gi' him ten. Sur. Yes, twentie, and be cossend, doe. Mam. There 'tis. [Gives Face the money.] Sub. This needs not. But that you will have it, so, 9S To see conclusions of all. For two Of our inferiour workes, are at fixation. A third is in ascension. Goe your waies. Ha' you set the oile of Luna in kemia ? Fac. Yes, sir. Sub. And the philosophers vinegar ? Fac. I. [Exit.'] 100 Sur. We shall have a sallad. 224 tEtie &\itytmtet [a ct ii. Mam. When doe you make projection ? Sub. Sonne, be not hastie, I exalt our med'- cine, By hanging him in balneo vaporoso ; And giving him solution ; then congeale him ; And then dissolve him; then againe congeale him ; 105 For looke, how oft I iterate the worke, So many times, I adde unto his vertue. As, if at first, one ounce convert a hundred, After his second loose, hee'll turne a thousand ; His third solution, ten; his fourth, a hundred, no After his fifth, a thousand thousand ounces Of any imperfect mettall, into pure Silver, or gold, in all examinations, As good, as any of the naturall mine. Get you your stuffe here, against after-noone, n S Your brasse, your pewter, and your andirons. Mam. Not those of iron ? Sub. Yes, you may bring them, too. Wee'll change all mettalls. Sur. I beleeve you, in that. Mam. Then I may send my spits? Sub. Yes, and your racks. Sur. And dripping-pans, and pot-hangers, and hookes ? 120 Shall he not ? I 1 7 Mctlalls, F and ^) read mettall's. ( Scene III] ®\)t &\t\)Cmi2>t 225 / Sub. If he please. Sur. ToBe an asse. Sub. Htrw, sir ! Mam. This gent'man, you must beare withall. I told you, he had no faith. Sur. And little hope, sir, But, much lesse charitie, should I gull my selfe. Sub. Why, what have you observ'd, sir, in our art, 125 Seemes so impossible? Sur. But your whole worke, no more. That you should hatch gold in a fornace, sir, As they doe egges, in Egypt ! Sub. Sir, doe you Beleeve that egges are hatch'd so? Sur. If I should ? Sub. Why, I thinke that the greater miracle. 130 No egge, but differs from a chicken, more, Then mettalls in themselves. Sur. That cannot be. The egg's ordain'd by nature, to that end : And is a chicken in potentia. Sub. The same we say of lead, and other mettalls, 135 Which would be gold, if they had time. Mam. And that Our art doth furder. Sub. I, for 'twere absurd 226 tEtje £lrtjetnt0t [act h. To thinke that Nature, in the earth, bred gold Perfect, i' the instant. Something went before. There must be remote matter. Sur. I, what is that ? . x 4° Sub. Mary, we say Mam. I, now it heats : stand father. Pound him to dust Sub. It is, of the one part, A humide exhalation, which we call Materia liquida, or the unctuous water ; On th' other part, a certaine crasse, and viscous 145 Portion of earth ; both which, concorporate, Doe make the elementarie matter of gold : Which is not, yet, propria materia, But commune to all mettalls, and all stones. For, where it is forsaken of that moysture, 150 And hath more drynesse, it becomes a stone ; Where it retaines more of the humid fatnesse, It turnes to sulphur, or to quick-silver: Who are the parents of all other mettalls. Nor can this remote matter, sodainly, '55 Progresse so from extreme, unto extreme, As to grow gold, and leape ore all the meanes. Nature doth, first, beget th' imperfect ; then Proceedes shee to the perfect. Of that ayrie, And oily water, mercury is engendered; 160 Sulphure o' the fat, and earthy part: the one, (Which is the last,) supplying the place of male, Scene III.] f&ty &\t\)tmi&t 227 The other of the female, in all mettalls. Some doe beleeve hermaphrodeitie, That both doe act, and suffer. But, these two 165 Make the rest ductile, malleable, extensive. And, even in gold, they are ; for we doe find Secdes of them, by our fire, and gold in them : And can produce the species of each mettall More perfect thence, then Nature doth in earth. 170 Beside, who doth not see, in daily practice, Art can beget bees, hornets, beetles, waspes, Out of the carcasses, and dung of creatures ; Yea, scorpions, of an herbe, being ritely plac'd : And these are living creatures, far more perfect, 175 And excellent, then mettalls. Mam. Well said, father ! Nay, if he take you in hand, sir, with an argu- ment, Hee'll bray you in a morter. Sur. 'Pray you, sir, stay. Rather, then I'll be brai'd, sir, I'll beleeve, That Alchemie is a pretty kind of game, 180 Somewhat like tricks o' the cards, to cheat a man, With charming. Sub. Sir ? Sur. What else are all your termes, Whereon no one o' your writers grees with other ? 228 Gtfje &\t\)tmi$t [Act II. Of your elixir, your lac virginis, Your stone, your med'cine, and your chryso- sperme, 185 Your sal, your sulphur, and your mercurie, Your oyle of height, your tree of life, your bloud, Your marchesite, your tutie, your magnesia, Your toade, your crow, your dragon, and your panthar, Your sunne, your moone, your firmament, your adrop, i 9 o Your lato, azoch, zernich, chibrit, heautarit, And then your red man, and your white woman, With all your broths, your menstrues, and ma- terialls, Of pisse, and egge-shells, womens termes, mans bloud, Haire o' the head, burnt clouts, chalke, merds, and clay, 195 Poulder of bones, scalings of iron, glasse, And worlds of other strange ingredients, Would burst a man to name ? Sub. And all these, nam'd, Intending but one thing : which art our writers Us'd to obscure their art. Alam. Sir, so I told him, 200 Because the simple idiot should not learne it, And make it vulgar. Scene III.] tyty glcfyrmttft 229 Sub. Was not all the knowledge Of the Egyptians writ in mystick symboles ? Speake not the Scriptures, oft, in parables ? Are not the choicest fables of the poets, 205 That were the fountaines and first springs of wisedome, Wrapt in perplexed allegories ? Mam. I urg'd that, And clear'd to him, that Sisiphus was damn'd To roule the ceaselesse stone, onely, because He would have made ours common. Dol is scene Who is this ? I> the door -~\ Sub. God's precious — What doe you meane ? Goe in, good lady, Let me intreat you. \_Dol retires. ~\ Where's this varlet ? [Re-enter Face.] Fac. Sir ? Sub. You very knave ! doe you use me, thus ? Fac. Wherein, sir? Sub. Goe in, and see, you traitor. Goe. [Exit Face.] Mam. Who is it, sir ? Sub. Nothing, sir. Nothing. Mam. What's the matter ? good sir ! 2I 5 I have not seene you thus distemp'red. Who is't ? 23O 1&\)t &Ul)ettti0t [Act II. Sub. All arts have still had, sir, their adver- saries, Fau But ours the most ignorant. What now? returnes. Fac. 'Twas not my fault, sir, shee would speake with you. Sub. Would she, sir? Follow me. [Exit Subtle.] Mam. [stopping Face] . Stay, Lungs. Fac. I dare not, sir. «o Mam. How ! 'Pray thee stay ? Fac. She's mad, sir, and sent hether Mam. Stay, man, what is shee ? Fac. A lords sister, sir. (Hee'll be mad too. Mam. I warrant thee.) Why sent hether ? Fac. Sir, to be cur'd. Sub. [within] . Why, raskall ! Fac. Loe you. Here, sir. He goes out. Mam. 'Fore-god, a Bradamante, a brave piece. 225 Sur. Hart, this is a bawdy-house ! I'll be burnt else. 220. / dare not, sir. The succeeding lines in the quarto read : Mam. How! 'Pray thee stay? Fac. She's mad Sir, and sent hether (He'll be mad too. Mam. I warrant thee.) Why sent hether ? Fac. Sir, to be cur'd. Possibly Giffbrd was right in considering the reading of the folio a derangement. Scene III] f&ty <\)tmi$t 23 1 Mam. O, by this light, no. Doe not wrong him. H' is Too scrupulous, that way. It is his vice No, h' is a rare physitian, doe him right. An excellent Paracelsian ! and has done 230 Strange cures with minerall physicke. He deales all With spirits, he. He will not heare a word Of Galen, or his tedious recipes. Face againe. How now, Lungs ! Fac. Softly, sir; speake softly. I meant To ha' told your worship all. This must not heare. 235 Mam. No, he will not be gull'd ; let him alone. Fac. Y' are very right, sir, shee is a most rare schollar ; And is gone mad, with studying Braughtons workes. If you but name a word, touching the Hebrew, Shee falls into her fit, and will discourse 2 4° So learnedly of genealogies, As you would runne mad too, to heare her, sir. Mam. How might one doe t' have conference with her, Lungs? Fac. O, divers have runne mad upon the conference. I doe not know, sir: I am sent in hast, 245 To fetch a violl. 233 recipes. Q Fi and F2 recipe's, 232 Gtfje Qlc\)tmi&t [act ii. Sur. Be not gull'd, Sir Mammon. Mam. Wherein ? 'Pray yee, be patient. Sur. Yes, as you are. And trust confederate knaves, and bawdes, and whores. Mam. You are too foule, beleeve it. Come here, U(en. One word. Fac. I dare not, in good faith. [Going.] Mam. Stay, knave. 2S o Fac. H' is extreme angrie, that you saw her, sir. Mam. Drinke that. [Gives him money. ~\ What is shee ? when shee's out of her fit ? Fac. O, the most affablest creature, sir ! so merry ! So pleasant ! shee'll mount you up, like quick- silver, Over the helme, and circulate, like oyle, 255 A very vegetall : discourse of state, Of mathematiques, bawdry, any thing Mam. Is shee no way accessible ? no meancs, No trick, to give a man a taste of her — wit — Or so ? — Utcn. Fac. I'll come to you againe, sir, [Exit.] 260 Mam. Surly, I did not thinke, one o' your breeding Would traduce personages of worth. 249 Ulen, Q_ Zephyrus. 259, 260 ivit — Or so? — U!en. Q begins line 260 : Wit ? or so ? and omits Ulen. Scene III.] f&ty QU\)tmi&t 233 Sur. Sir Epicure, Your friend to use : yet, still, loth to be gull'd. I doe not like your philosophicall bawdes. Their stone is lecherie inough, to pay for, 265 Without this bait. Mam. 'Hart, you abuse your selfe. I know the lady, and her friends, and meanes, The original! of this disaster. Her brother H'as told me all. Sur. And yet, you ne're saw her Till now ? Mam. 0,yes, but I forgot. I have (beleeve it) 270 One o' the treacherou'st memories, I doe thinke, Of all mankind. Sur. What call you her brother ? Mam. My Lord He wi' not have his name knowne, now I thinke on't. Sur. A very treacherous memorie ! Mam. O' my faith Sur. Tut, if you ha' it not about you, passe it, 275 Till wee meet next. Mam. Nay, by this hand, 'tis true, Hee's one I honour, and my noble friend, And I respect his house. Sur. Hart ! can it be, 272 Sur. Q Sub. Brother, F misprints : ivhat call you her t brother ? 234 Gtfje 3lt\)tmi2>t [Act II. That a grave sir, a rich, that has no need, A wise sir, too, at other times, should thus a8o With his owne oathes, and arguments, make hard meanes To gull himselfe? And, this be your elixir, Your lapis mineralis, and your lunarie, Give me your honest trick, yet, at primero, Or gleeke ; and take your lutum sapientis, 285 Your menstruum simplex: I'll have gold, before you, And, with lesse danger of the quick-silver ; Or the hot sulphur. \Re-enter Face.~\ Fac. Here's one from Captaine Face, sir, To Surly. Desires you meet him i' the Temple-church, Some halfe houre hence, and upon earnest busi- nesse. 200 Sir, if you please to quit us, now ; and He whispers Come, Mammon. Againe, within two houres : you shall have My master busie examining o' the workes; And I will steale you in, unto the partie, That you may see her converse. Sir, shall I say, 29S You'll meet the Captaines worship ? Sur. Sir, I will. \_Walks aside.~] But, by attorney, and to a second purpose. scnotm.] Gtye alchemist 235 Now, I am sure, it is a bawdy-house ; I'll sweare it, were the Marshall here, to thanke me: The naming this commander, doth confirme it. 300 Don Face ! why h' is the most authentique dealer F these commodities ! The superintendent To all the queinter traffiquers, in towne. He is their visiter, and do's appoint Who lyes with whom ; and at what houre ; what price ; 3°5 Which gowne ; and in what smock ; what fall ; what tyre. Him, will I prove, by a third person, to find The subtilties of this darke labyrinth : Which, if I doe discover, deare sir Mammon, You'll give your poore friend leave, though no philosopher, 3 10 To laugh : for you that are, 'tis thought, shall weepe. Fac. Sir, he do's pray, you'll not forget. Sur. I will not, sir. Sir Epicure, I shall leave you ? [£at/V.] Mam. I follow you, streight. Fac. But doe so, good sir, to avoid suspicion. This gent'man has a par'lous head. Mam. But wilt thou, lUcn, 3 J 5 Be constant to thy promise ? 301 authentique, Fi and Qjiutentique. 315 Ulen, not in Q^ 236 Sftc alchemist [act ii. Fac. As my life, sir. Mam. And wilt thou insinuate what I am ? and praise me, And say I am a noble fellow ? Fac. O, what else, sir ? And that you'll make her royall, with the stone, An empresse ; and your selfe King of Ban- tam. 320 Mam. Wilt thou doe this ? Fac. Will I, sir? Mam. Lungs, my Lungs ! I love thee. Fac. Send your stuffe, sir, that my master May busie himselfe, about projection. Mam. Th' hast witch'd me, rogue : take, goe. [Gives him money .1 Fac. Your jack, and all, sir. Mam. Thou art a villaine — I will send my jack; 3 2 5 And the weights too. Slave, I could bite thine eare. Away, thou dost not care for me. Fac. Not I, sir ? Mam. Come, I was borne to make thee, my good weasell ; Set thee on a bench : and ha' thee twirle a chaine With the best lords vermine of 'hem all. Scene IV.] X&ty aictjnttttft 237 Fac. Away, sir. 33<} Mam. A count, nay, a count-palatine Fac. Good sir, goe. Mam. Shall not advance thee, better : no, nor faster. [isx/V.] Act II. Scene IV. [Enter] Subtle, [to] Face, [with] Dol. Subtle. Has he bit ? has he bit ? Face. And swallow'd too, my Subtle. I ha' giv'n him line, and now he playes, i' faith. Sub. And shall we twitch him ? Fac. Thorough both the gills. A wench is a rare bait, with which a man No sooner 's taken, but he straight firkes mad. 5 Sub. Dol, my Lord Wha'ts'hums sister, you must now Beare your selfe Statcltcl). Dol. O, let me alone. I'll not forget my race, I warrant you. I'll keepe my distance, laugh, and talke aloud ; Have all the tricks of a proud scirvy ladie, 10 And be as rude' as her woman. Fac. Well said, sanguine. Sub. But will he send his andirons ? Fac. His jack too ; 238 W$Z #lCl)emt0t [Act II. And 's iron shooing-horne : I ha' spoke to him. Well, I must not loose my wary gamster, yonder. Sub. O, Monsieur Caution, that will not be gull'd. IS Fac. I, if I can strike a fine hooke into him, now, The Temple-church, there I have cast mine angle. Well, pray for me. I'll about it. Sub. What, more gudgeons ! One knocks. Dol, scout, scout ; \_Dol goes to the window.] stay, Face, you must goe to the dore : ' Pray God, it be my Anabaptist. Who is't, Dol ? «° Dol. I know him not. He lookes like a gold-end-man. Sub. Gods so ! 'tis he, he said he would send. What call you him ? The sanctified elder, that should deale For Mammons jack, and andirons ! Let him in. Stay, helpe me of, first, with my gowne. Away, 25 [Exit Face.] Ma-dame, to your with-drawing chamber. [Exit Do/.] 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 Brethren Scene V.] 1&ty #lcljeitttet 239 Of Amsterdam, the exil'd saints : that hope 30 To raise their discipline, by it. I must use him In some strange fashion, now, to make him admire me. Act II. Scene V. \_To~\ Subtle, \_enter~\ Face, [and] Ananias. [Subtle, aloud.] Where is my drudge ? Face. Sir. Sub. Take away the recipient, And rectifie your menstrue, from the phlegma. Then powre it, o' the Sol, in the cucurbite, And let 'hem macerate, together. Fac. Yes, sir. And save the ground ? Sub. No : terra damnata Must not have entrance, in the worke. Who are you ? 5 Ananias. A faithfull brother, if it please you. Sub. What's that ? A Lullianist ? a Ripley ? Filius artis ? Can you sublime, and dulcifie ? calcine ? Know you the sapor pontick ? sapor stiptick ? Or, what is homogene, or heterogene ? 10 Ana. I understand no heathen language, truely. Sub. Heathen, you Knipper-doling? Is Ars sacra. 240 W^t Qlt\)tmi$t [Act II. Or chrysopoeia, or spagirica, Or the pamphysick, or panarchick knowledge, A heathen language ? Ana. Heathen Greeke, I take it. IS Sub. How ? heathen Greeke ? Ana. All's heathen, but the Hebrew. Sub. Sirah, my varlet, stand you forth, and speake to him Like a philosopher : answer i' the language. Name the vexations, and the martyrizations Of mettalls, in the worke. Fac. Sir, putrefaction, zo Solution, ablution, sublimation, Cohobation, calcination, ceration, and Fixation. Sub. This is heathen Greeke to you, now ? And when comes vivification ? Fac. After mortification. Sub. What's cohobation ? Fac. 'Tis the powring on 25 Your aqua regis, and then drawing him off", To the trine circle of the seven spheares. Sub. What's the proper passion of mettalls ? Fac. Malleation. Sub. What's your ultimum supplicium auri ? Fac. Antimonium. Sub. This's heathen Greeke, to you ? And, what's your mercury ? 30 28 Fi places a comma after Malleation. Scene V.] Qty QU\)tmi$t 24 1 Fac. A very fugitive, he will be gone, sir. Sub. How know you him ? Fac. By his viscositie, His oleositie, and his suscitabilitie. Sub. How doe you sublime him ? Fac. With the calce of egge-shels, White marble, talck. Sub. Your magisterium, now? 35 What's that ? Face. Shifting, sir, your elements, Drie into cold, cold into moist, moist into hot, hot into drie. Sub. This's heathen Greeke to you, still ? Your lapis philosophicus ? Fac. 'Tis a stone, And not a stone; a spirit, a soule, and a body : 40 Which if you doe dissolve, it is dissolv'd ; If you coagulate, it is coagulated, If you make it to flye, it flyeth, Sub. Inough. This's heathen Greeke to you ? What are you, sir ? Ana. Please you, a servant of the exil'd brethren, 45 39-40 ' Tis a stone, etc. F and Q arrange these lines : 'Tis a stone, and not A stone ; a spirit, a soule, and a body. 242 Wtyt #lCt)CttttSt [Act II. That deale with widdowes, and with orphanes goods ; And make a just account, unto the saints : A deacon. Sub. O, you are sent from Master Wholsome, Your teacher ? Ana. From Tribulation Wholsome, Our very zealous pastor. Sub. Good. I have 50 Some orphanes goods to come here. Ana. Of what kind, sir ? Sub. Pewter, and brasse, andirons, and kitchin ware, Mettalls, that we must use our med'cine on : Wherein the brethren may have a penn'orth, For readie money. Ana. Were the orphanes parents 55 Sincere professors ? Sub. Why doe you aske ? Ana. Because We then are to deale justly, and give (in truth) Their utmost valew. Sub. 'Slid, you'ld cossen, else, And, if their parents were not of the faithfull ? I will not trust you, now I thinke on't, 60 Till I ha' talk'd with your pastor. Ha' you brought money To buy more coales ? Scene V.] tS^t &\t\)tmi$t 243 Ana. No, surely. Sub. No ? how so ? Ana. The Brethren bid me say unto you, sir, Surely, they will not venter any more, Till they may see projection. Sub. How ! Ana. Yo' have had, 65 For the instruments, as bricks, and lome, and glasses, Alreadie thirtie pound ; and, for materialls, They say, some ninetie more : and, they have heard, since, That one, at Heidelberg, made it, of an egge, And a small paper of pin-dust. Sub. What's your name ? 7 o Ana. My name is Ananias. Sub. Out, the varlet That cossend the apostles ! Hence, away, Flee mischiefe ; had your holy consistorie No name to send me, of another sound ; Then wicked Ananias ? Send your elders, 75 Hither, to make atonement for you, quickly. And gi' me satisfaction ; or out-goes The fire : and downe th' alembekes, and the for- nace. Piger Henricus, or what not. Thou wretch, Both sericon, and bufo shall be lost, 80 Tell 'hem. All hope of rooting out the bishops, 244 ^t jaiCtWtttet [Act II. Or th' antichristian hierarchie shall perish, If they stay threescore minutes : the aqueitie, Terreitie, and sulphureitie Shall runne together againe, and all be annull'd, 85 Thou wicked Ananias. [Exit Ananias.] This will fetch 'hem, And make 'hem hast towards their gulling more. A man must deale like a rough nurse, and fright Those, that are froward, to an appetite. Act II. Scene VI. [Enter] Face [in bis uniform, to] Subtle, [with] Drugger. [Face.] H' is busie with his spirits, but wee'll upon him. Subtle. How now ! What mates ? What Baiards ha' wee here ? Fac. I told you, he would be furious. Sir, here's Nab, Has brought yo' another piece of gold, to looke on : (We must appease him. Give it me) and prayes you, 5 You would devise (what is it, Nab ?) Drugger. A signe, sir. Fac. I, a good lucky one, a thriving signe, Doctor. 85 Annull'd, F and Q omit the comma after this word. Scene VI.] ^ty &lct)ntttSft 245 Sub. I was devising now. Fac. ('Slight, doe not say so, He will repent he ga' you any more.) What say you to his constellation, Doctor ? 10 The Ballance ? Sub. No, that way is stale, and common. A townes-man, borne in Taurus, gives the bull ; Or the bulls-head : in Aries, the ram. A poore device. No, I will have his name Form'd in some mystick character; whose radii, 15 Striking the senses of the passers by, Shall, by a virtuall influence, breed affections, That may result upon the partie ownes it : As thus Fac. Nab! Sub. He first shall have a bell, that's Abel ; And, by it, standing one, whose name is Dee, 20 In a rugg gowne ; there's D. and rug, that's drug : And, right anenst him, a dog snarling er ; There's Drugger, Abel Drugger. That's his signe. And here's now mysterie, and hieroglyphick ! Fac. Abel, thou art made. Dru. Sir, I doe thanke his worship. 25 Fac. Sixe o' thy legs more, will not doe it, Nab. He has brought you a pipe of tabacco, Doctor. 246 W$Z #lCl)emt0t [Act n. Dru. Yes, sir : I have another thing, I would impart Fac. Out with it, Nab. Dru. Sir, there is lodg'd, hard by me, A rich yong widdow 30 Fac. Good ! a bona roba ? Dru. But nineteene, at the most. Fac. Very good, Abel. Dru. Mary, sh' is not in fashion, yet ; shee weares A hood : but 't stands a cop. Fac. No matter, Abel. Dru. And, I doe, now and then, give her a fucus Fac. What ! dost thou deale, Nab ? 3 5 Sub. I did tell you, Captaine. Dru. And physick too sometime, sir : for which shee trusts me With all her mind. Shee's come up here, of purpose To learne the fashion. Fac. Good (his match too !) on, Nab. Dru. And shee do's strangely long to know her fortune. Fac. Gods lid, Nab, send her to the Doctor, 4Q hether. 34 Now and then, F omits the comma after then. Scene VI.] Qfot 0lcfjetttt0t 247 Dru. Yes, I have spoke to her of his wor- ship, alreadie : But shee's afraid, it will be blowne abroad And hurt her marriage. Fac. Hurt it ? 'Tis the way To heale it, if 'twere hurt ; to make it more Follow'd, and sought : Nab, thou shalt tell her this. 45 Shee'll be more knowne, more talk'd of, and your widdowes Are ne'er of any price till they be famous ; Their honour is their multitude of sutors : Send her, it may be thy good fortune. What ? Thou dost not know. Dru. No, sir, shee'll never marry 50 Under a knight. Her brother has made a vow. Fac. What, and dost thou despaire, my little Nab, Knowing, what the Doctor has set downe for thee, And, seeing so many, o' the city, dub'd ? One glasse o' thy water, with a Madame, I know, Will have it done, Nab. What's her brother? a knight ? Dru. No, sir, a gentleman, newly warme in' his land, sir, 55 248 W()t Q\t\)tmi8t [Act II. Scarse cold in his one and twentie ; that do's governe His sister, here: and is a man himselfe Of some three thousand a yeere, and is come up 60 To learne to quarrell, and to live by his wits, And will goe downe againe, and dye i' the countrey. Fac. How ! to quarrell ? Dru. Yes, sir, to carry quarrells, As gallants doe, and manage 'hem, by line. Fac. 'Slid, Nab ! The Doctor is the onely man 6 5 In Christendome for him. He has made a table, With mathematicall demonstrations, Touching the art of quarrells. He will give him An instrument to quarrell by. Goe, bring 'hem, both : Him, and his sister. And, for thee, with her 7° The Doctor happ'ly may perswade. Goe to. 'Shalt give his worship, a new damaske suite Upon the premisses. Sub. O, good Captaine. Fac. He shall, He is the honestest fellow, Doctor. Stay not, No offers, bring the damaske, and the parties. 7S Dru. I'll trie my power, sir. 74 Stay, QJay. So Scene VI] tEljC &\t\)tmi&t 249 Fac. And thy will, too, Nab. Sub. 'Tis good tabacco this ! What is't an ounce ? Fac. He'll send you a pound, Doctor. Sub. O, no. Fac. He will do't. It is the gooddest soule. Abel, about it. (Thou shalt know more anone. Away, be gone.) [Exit Abel.'] A miserable rogue, and lives with cheese, And has the wormes. That was the cause indeed Why he came now. He dealt with me, in private, 85 To get a med'cine for 'hem. Sub. And shall, sir. This workes. Fac. A wife, a wife, for one on 'us, my deare Subtle : Wee'll eene draw lots, and he, that failes, shall have The more in goods, the other has in taile. Sub. Rather the lesse. For shee may be so light 9° Shee may want graines. Fac. I, or be such a burden, A man would scarce endure her, for the whole. Sub. Faith, best let's see her first, and then determine. 250 WS$ &lrt)emt0t [Act II. Fac. Content. But Dol must ha' no breath on't. Sub. Mum. Away, you to your Surly yonder, catch him. 95 Fac. 'Pray God, I ha' not stai'd too long. Sub. I feare it. \_Exeunt.~\ Act III. Scene I. [ Enter] Tribulation, [ancT\ Ananias. [Tribulation.] These chastisements are com- mon to the Saints, And such rebukes we of the separation Must beare, with willing shoulders, as the trialls Sent forth, to tempt our frailties. Ananias. In pure zeale, I doe not like the man : he is a heathen. 5 And speakes the language of Canaan, truely. Tri. I thinke him a prophane person, indeed. Ana. He beares The visible marke of the beast, in his fore-head. And for his stone, it is a worke of darknesse, And, with philosophic, blinds the eyes of man. 10 Tri. Good brother, we must bend unto all meanes, That may give furtherance, to the holy cause. Ana. Which his cannot : the sanctified cause Should have a sanctified course. Tri. Not alwaies necessary. 15 2 And such rebukes. Q And such rebukes th' elect must beare, with patience j They are the exercises of the spirit, And sent to tempt our fraylties. 252 Slje glctjemist [act m. The children of perdition are oft-times, Made instruments even of the greatest workes. Beside, we should give somewhat to mans nature, The place he lives in, still about the fire, And fume of mettalls, that intoxicate *o The braine of man, and make him prone to passion. Where have you greater atheists, then your cookes ? Or more prophane, or cholerick then your glasse-men ? More antichristian, then your bell-founders ? What makes the devill so devillish, I would aske you, 25 Sathan, our common enemie, but his being Perpetually about the fire, and boyling Brimstone, and arsnike ? We must give, I say, Unto the motives, and the stirrers up Of humours in the bloud. It may be so. 30 When as the worke is done, the stone is made, This heate of his may turne into a zeale, And stand up for the beauteous discipline, Against the menstruous cloth, and ragg of Rome. We must await his calling, and the comming 35 Of the good spirit. You did fault, t' upbraid him With the Brethrens blessing of Heidelberg, waighing 4° Scene II.] GI^ ^IctjCttttSt 253 What need we have, to hasten on the worke, For the restoring of the silenc'd Saints, Which ne'er will be, but by the philosophers stone. And, so a learned elder, one of Scotland, Assur'd me ; aurum potabile being The onely med'cine, for the civill magistrate, T' incline him to a feeling of the cause : And must be daily us'd, in the disease. 45 Ana. I have not edified more, truely, by man ; Not, since the beautifull light, first, shone on me : And I am sad, my zeale hath so offended. Tri. Let us call on him, then. Ana. The motion's good, And of the spirit ; I will knock first : [knocks.] Peace be within. 50 Act III. Scene II. [Enter] Subtle, [to] Tribulation, Ananias. [Subtle.] O, are you come ? 'Twas time. Your threescore minutes Were at the last thred, you see ; and downe had gone Furnus acedice, turris circulatorius : Lembeke, bolt's-head, retort, and pellicane Had all beene cinders. Wicked Ananias ! 5 Art thou return'd ? Nay then, it goes downe, yet. 254 ®¥ &Ul)emt0t [Act III. Tribulation. Sir, be appeased, he is come to humble Himselfe in spirit, and to aske your patience, If too much zeale hath carried him, aside, From the due path. Sub. Why, this doth qualifie ! IO Tri. The Brethren had no purpose, verely, To give you the least grievance : but are ready To lend their willing hands, to any project The spirit, and you direct. Sub. This qualifies more ! Tri. And, for the orphanes goods, let them be valew'd, 15 Or what is needfull, else, to the holy worke, It shall be numbred : here, by me, the Saints Throw downe their purse before you. Sub. This qualifies, most ! Why, thus it should be, now you understand. Have I discours'd so unto you, of our stone ? 20 And, of the good that it shall bring your cause ? Shew'd you, (beside the mayne of hiring forces Abroad, drawing the Hollanders, your friends, From th' Indies, to serve you, with all their fleete) That even the med'cinall use shall make you a faction, 25 And party in the realme ? As, put the case, That some great man in state, he have the gout, Scene II.] {fttje QltfylWiiSt 255 Why, you but send three droppes of your elixir, You helpe him straight : there you have made a friend. Another has the palsey, or the dropsie, 30 He takes of your incombustible stuffe, Hee's yongagaine: there you have made a friend. A Lady, that is past the feate of body, Though not of minde, and hath her face decay'd Beyond all cure of paintings, you restore 35 With the oyle of talck ; there you have made a friend : And all her friends. A Lord, that is a leper, A knight, that has the bone-ache, or a squire That hath both these, you make 'hem smooth, and sound, With a bare fricace of your med'cine : still, 40 You increase your friends. Tri. I, 'tis very pregnant. Sub. And, then, the turning of this lawyers pewter To plate, at Christ-masse Ananias. Christ-tide, I pray you. Sub. Yet, Ananias ? Ana. I have done. Sub. Or changing His parcell guilt, to massie gold. You cannot 4S But raise you friends. With all, to be of power To pay an armie, in the field, to buy 35 paintings, Q__painting. 36 talck, Fi and F2 talek. 256 tElje 0lct}emt0t [act hi. The king of France, out of his realmes ; or Spaine, Out of his Indies : what can you not doe, Against lords spirituall, or temporall, 50 That shall oppone you ? Tri. Verily, 'tis true. We maybe temporall lords, our selves, I take it. Sub. You may be anything, and leave off to make Long-winded exercises : or suck up Your ha, and hum, in a tune. I not denie 55 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 phlegmatick people, it is your bell. 60 Ana. Bells are prophane : a tune may be religious. Sub. No warning with you ? Then, farewell my patience. 'Slight, it shall downe : I will not be thus tor- tur'd. Tri. I pray you, sir. Sub. All shall perish. I have spoke it. Tri. Let me find grace, sir, in your eyes ; the man 65 54 F and Q place a comma after suck up. Scene II.] f&ty &lct)emt$t 257 He stands corrected: neither did his zeale (But as your selfe) allow a tune, some-where. Which, now, being to'ard the stone, we shall not need. Sub. No, nor your holy vizard, to winne widdowes To give you legacies; or make zealous wives 7 o To rob their husbands, for the common cause : Nor take the start of bonds, broke but one day, And say, they were forfeited, by providence. Nor shall you need, ore-night to eate huge meales, To celebrate your next daies fast the better : 75 The whilst the Brethren, and the Sisters, humbled, Abate the stiffenesse of the flesh. Nor cast Before your hungrie hearers, scrupulous bones, As whether a Christian may hawke, or hunt ; Or whether, matrons, of the holy assembly, 80 May lay their haire out, or weare doublets : Or have that idoll starch, about their linnen. Ana. It is, indeed, an idoll. Trl. Mind him not, sir. I doe command thee, spirit (of zeale, but trouble) To peace within him. Pray you, sir, goe on. s 5 Sub. Nor shall you need to libell 'gainst the prelates, And shorten so your eares, against the hearing 72 bonds, Q^_bandes. 258 &\)t &\t\)tmi$t [Act III. Of the next wire-drawne grace. Nor, of ne- cessitie, Raile against playes, to please the alderman, Whose daily custard you devoure. Nor lie 90 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, 95 Onely for glorie, and to catch the eare Of the disciple. Tri. Truely, sir, they are Wayes, that the godly Brethren have invented, For propagation of the glorious cause, As very notable meanes, and whereby, also, 100 Themselves grow soone, and profitably famous. Sub. O, but the stone, all's idle to' it ! no- thing ! The art of angels, nature's miracle, The divine secret, that doth flye in clouds, From east to west : and whose tradition 105 Is not from men, but spirits. Ana. I hate traditions : I do not trust them Tri. Peace. Ana. They are Popish, all. I will not peace. I will not Tri. Ananias. 99 glorious, Q_hoiy. 107 them, Q^'hem. Scene II.] X&\)t glctjCltttSft 259 Ana. Please the prophane, to grieve the godly : I may not. Sub. Well, Ananias, thou shalt over-come, no Tri. It is an ignorant zeale, that haunts him, sir, But truely, else, a very faithfull brother, A botcher : and a man, by revelation, That hath a competent knowledge of the truth. Sub. Has he a competent summe, there, i' the bagg, „ s To buy the goods, within ? I am made guardian, And must, for charitie, and conscience sake, Now, see the most be made, for my poore orphane : Though I desire the Brethren, too, good gayners. There, they are, within. When you have view'd, and bought 'hem, 120 And tane the inventorie of what they are, They are readie for projection ; there's no more To doe : cast on the med'cine, so much silver As there is tinne there, so much gold as brasse, I'll gi' it you in, by waight. Tri. But how long time, 125 Sir, must the Saints expect, yet ? Sub. Let me see, How's the moone, now? Eight, nine, ten dayes hence He will be silver potate ; then, three dayes, 120 and, F2. Fl Q__: & 260 Wt$ Qh\)tmi8t [act in. Before he citronise : some fifteene dayes, The magisterium will be perfected. 130 Ana. About the second day, of the third weeke, In the ninth month ? Sub. Yes, my good Ananias. Tri. What will the orphanes goods arise to, thinke you ? Sub. Some hundred markes ; as much as fill'd three carres, Unladed now : you'll make sixe millions of 'hem. 135 But I must ha' more coales laid in. Tri. How ! Sub. Another load, And then we ha' finish'd. We must now en- crease Our fire to ignis ardens, we are past Fimus equinus, balnei, cineris, And all those lenter heats. If the holy purse 140 Should, with this draught, fall low, and that the Saints Doe need a present summe, I have a trick To melt the pewter, you shall buy now, in- stantly, And, with a tincture, make you as good Dutch dollers, As any are in Holland. Tri. Can you so ? 145 135 you '11, Q^you shall. 142 a trick, Fl and Qjjmit a. Scene II.] X&ty glcfjCtnitft 26 1 Sub. I, and shall bide the third examination. Ana. It will be joyfull tidings to the Brethren. Sub. But you must carry it, secret. Tri. I, but stay, This act of coyning, is it lawfull ? Ana. Lawfull ? We know no magistrate. Or, if we did, 150 This's forraine coyne. Sub. It is no coyning, sir. It is but casting. Tri. Ha ? you distinguish well. Casting of money may be lawfull. Ana. 'Tis, sir. Tri. Truely, I take it so. Sub. There is no scruple, Sir, to be made of it ; beleeve Ananias : 155 This case of conscience he is studied in. Tri. I'll make a question of it, to the Brethren, Ana. The Brethren shall approve it lawfull, doubt not. Where shall't be done ? Sub. For that wee'll talke, anone. Knock 'without. There's some to speake with me. Goe in, I pray you, 160 And view the parcells. That's the inventorie. I'll come to you straight. [ Exeunt Tribulation and Ananias.] Who is it ? Face ! Appeare. 262 ®\)t #lct)WU0t [Act III. Act III. Scene III. Subtle^ Face \in his uniform ; later\ , Dol. Subtle. How now? Good prise? Face. Good poxe ! Yond' caustive cheater Never came on. Sub. How then ? Fac. I ha' walk'd the round, Till now, and no such thing. Sub. And ha' you quit him ? Fac. Quit him ? and hell would quit him too, he were happy. 'Slight would you have me stalke like a mill-jade, All day, for one, that will not yeeld us graines ? I know him of old. Sub. O, but to ha' gull'd him Had beene a maistry. Fac. Let him goe, black boy, And turne thee, that some fresh newes may pos- sesse thee. A noble count, a don of Spaine (my deare Delicious compeere, and my partie-bawd) Who is come hether, private, for his conscience, And brought munition with him, sixe great slopps, Bigger then three Dutch hoighs, beside round trunkes, Scene III.] Wtyt &lcl)CmtSft 263 Furnish'd with pistolets, and pieces of eight, I5 Will straight be here, my rogue, to have thy bath (That is the colour,) and to make his battry Upon our Dol, our castle, our cinque-port, Our Dover pire, our what thou wilt. Where is shee ? Shee must prepare perfumes, delicate linnen, 20 The bath in chiefe, a banquet, and her wit, For shee must milke his Epididimis. Where is the doxie ? Sub. I'll send her to thee : And but dispatch my brace of little John Ley- dens, And come againe my selfe. Fac. Are they within then ? as Sub. Numbring the summe. Fac. How much ? Sub. A hundred marks, boy. [£*//.] Fac. Why, this's a lucky day ! Ten pounds of Mammon ! Three o' my clarke ! A portague o' my gro- cer ! This o' the brethren ! beside reversions, 30 And states, to come i' the widdow, and my count ! My share, to day, will not be bought for fortie 22 milke, Q^feele. 264 W$z alchemist [act hi. [Enter Dol.~] Dol. What? Fac. Pounds, daintie Dorothee ! art thou so neere ? Dol. Yes, say lord generall, how fare's our campe ? Fac. As, with the few, that had entrench'd themselves 35 Safe, by their discipline, against a world, Dol : And laugh'd, within those trenches, and grew fat With thinking on the booties, Dol, brought in Daily, by their small parties. This deare houre, A doughty don is taken, with my Dol ; 4 o And thou maist make his ransome, what thou wilt, My Dousabell : he shall be brought here, fetter'd With thy faire lookes, before he see's thee ; and throwne In a downe-bed, as darke as any dungeon; Where thou shalt keepe him waking, with thy drum ; 45 Thy drum, my Dol ; thy drum ; till he be tame As the poore black-birds were i' the great frost, Or bees are with a bason : and so hive him I' the swan-skin coverlid, and cambrick sheets, Till he worke honey, and waxe, my little Gods- gift. 50 Dol. What is he, generall ? Scene III.] Qfyt &lrt)nHt0t 265 Fac. An adalantado, A grande[e], girle. Was not my Dapper here, yet ? Dol. No. Fac. Nor my D rugger ? Dol. Neither. Fac. A poxe on 'hem, They are so long a furnishing ! Such stinkards 55 Would not be seene, upon these festivall dayes. [Re-enter Subtle.^ How now ! ha' you done ? Sub. Done. They are gone. The summe Is here in banque, my Face. I would, we knew Another chapman, now, would buy 'hem out- right. 60 Fac. 'Slid, Nab shall doo't against he ha' the widdow, To furnish household. Sub. Excellent, well thought on, Pray God, he come ! Fac. I pray, he keepe away Till our new businesse be o're-past. Sub. But, Face, How cam'st thou, by this secret don ? Fac. A spirit 65 Brought me th' intelligence, in a paper, here, 65 F and Q^ place a (,) after thou and omit Fac. 266 Wtyt #lct)emist [act m. As I was conjuring, yonder, in my circle For Surly : I ha' my flies abroad. Your bath Is famous, Subtle, by my meanes. Sweet Dol, You must goe tune your virginall, no loosing 7° O' the least time. And, doe you heare? good action. Firke, like a flounder ; kisse, 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. 75 He will come here, in a hir'd coach, obscure, And our owne coach-man, whom I have sent, as guide, No creature else. Who's that ? One knocks. \Dol peeps through the window.~\ Sub. It i' not he ? Fac. O no, not yet this houre. Sub. Who is't ? Dol. Dapper, 80 Your clarke. Fac. Gods will, then, Queene of Faerie, On with your tyre ; [exit Dof\ and, Doctor, with your robes. Lett's dispatch him, for Gods sake. Sub. 'Twill be long. 69 F omits the comma after famous. 75 F omits the period. 83 Lett's, (^Lett's us. Scene IV] f&ty glctjetttlSt 267 Fac. I warrant you, take but the cues I give you, It shall be briefe inough. [Goes to the window.~\ 'Slight, here are more ! 8 5 Abel, and I thinke, the angrie boy, the heire, That faine would quarrell. Sub. And the widdow ? Fac. No, Not that I see. Away. [Exit Subtle.] [Enter Dapper.] O sir, you are welcome. Act HI. Scene IV. Face, Dapper; [enter] Drugger, [and] Kastril. [Face.] The Doctor is within, a moving for you ; (I have had the most adoe to winne him to it) Hee sweares, you'll be the dearling o' the dice: He never heard her highnesse dote, till now (he sayes.) Your aunt has giv'n you the most gracious words, 5 That can be thought on. Dapper. Shall I see her grace ? 4 Till now (Ae sayes.), Q omits the last two words. 268 ®\)t <\)tmi8t [Act III. Fac. See her, and kisse her, too. — \Enter Abel, followed by Kastril.~\ What ? honest Nab ! Ha'st brought the damaske? Drugger. No, sir, here's tabacco. Fac. 'Tis well done, Nab : thou'lt bring the damaske too ? Dru. Yes, here's the gentleman, Captaine, Master Kastril, 10 I have brought to see the Doctor. Fac. Where's the widdow ? Dru. Sir, as he likes, his sister (he sayes) shall come. Fac. O, is it so ? 'good time. Is your name Kastril, sir ? Kastril. I, and the best o' the Kastrils, I'lld be sorry else By fifteene hundred, a yeere. Where is this Doctor? 15 My mad tabacco-boy, here, tells me of one, That can doe things. Has he any skill ? Fac. Wherein, sir ? Kas. To carry a businesse, manage a quar- rell, fairely, Upon fit termes. Fac. It seemes, sir, yo' are but yong About the towne, that can make that a question ! 20 8 Drugger, all old edd. read Nab. 9 Q_ omits Nab. 1 3 ' 'good, Q__Good. Scene IV.] f&ty jglctyetttfet 269 Kas. Sir, not so yong, but I have heard some speech Of the angrie boyes, and seene 'hem take tabacco ; And in his shop : and I can take it too. And I would faine be one of 'hem, and goe downe And practise i' the countrey. Fac. Sir, for the duello, 25 The Doctor, I assure you, shall informe you, To the least shaddow of a haire : and shew you, An instrument he has, of his owne making, Where-with, no sooner shall you make report Of any quarrell, but he will take the height on't, 30 Most instantly ; and tell in what degree, Of safty it lies in, or mortalitie. And, how it may be borne, whether in a right line, Or a halfe-circle ; or may, else, be cast Into an angle blunt, if not acute : 35 All this he will demonstrate. And then, rules, To give, and take the lie, by. Kas. How ? to take it ? Fac. Yes, in oblique, hee'll shew you ; or in circle : But never in diameter. The whole towne Studie his theoremes, and dispute them, ordi- narily, 40 At the eating academies. 270 W$t #ld)emtSt [Act III. Kas. But, do's he teach Living, by the wits, too ? Fac. Any thing, what ever. You cannot thinke that subtletie,but he reades it. He made me a Captaine. I was a starke pimpe, Just o' your standing, 'fore I met with him : 45 It i' not two months since. I'll tell you his method. First, he will enter you, at some ordinarie. Kas. No, I'll not come there. You shall pardon me. Fac. For why, sir ? Kas. There's gaming there, and tricks. Fac. Why, would you be A gallant, and not game ? Kas. I, 'twill spend a man. 50 Fac. Spend you ? It will repaire you, when you are spent. How doe they live by their wits, there, that have vented Sixe times your fortunes ? Kas. What, three thousand a yeere ! Fac. I, fortie thousand. Kas. Are there such ? Fac. I, sir, And gallants, yet. Here's a yong gentleman, 55 Is borne to nothing, [points to Dapper] fortie markes a yeere, Scene IV.] Qfyt <\)tmi$t 2JI Which I count nothing. H' is to be initiated, And have a flye o' the Doctor. He will winne you By unresistable lucke, within this fortnight, Inough to buy a baronie. They will set him (, Q Upmost, at the groome-porters, all the Christ- masse ! And, for the whole yeere through, at everie place Where there is play, present him with the chaire ; The best attendance, the best drinke ; sometimes Two glasses of canarie, and pay nothing ; 65 The purest linnen, and the sharpest knife, The partrich next his trencher : and, somewhere, The daintie bed, in private, with the daintie. You shall ha' your ordinaries bid for him, As play-houses for a poet ; and the master 70 Pray him, aloud, to name what dish he affects, Which must be butterd shrimps: and those that drinke To no mouth else, will drinke to his, as being The goodly, president mouth of all the boord. Kas. Doe you not gull one ? Fac. 'Od's my life! Do you thinke it? 75 You shall have a cast commander, (can but get In credit with a glover, or a spurrier, For some two paire, of eithers ware, afore-hand) Will, by most swift posts, dealing with him, 60 baronie, Q^baronry. 75 'Od's, Q__God's. 272 Gftje #lct)eitti$t [Act III. Arrive at competent meanes,to keepe himselfe, 80 His punke, and naked boy, in excellent fashion. And be admir'd for't. Kas. Will the Doctor teach this ? Fac. He will doe more, sir, when your land is gone, (As men of spirit hate to keepe earth long) In a vacation, when small monie is stirring, 85 And ordinaries suspended till the tearme, Hee'll shew a perspective, where on one side You shall behold the faces, and the persons Of all sufficient yong heires, in towne, Whose bonds are currant for commoditie ; 9° On th' other side, the marchants formes, and others, That, without helpe of any second broker, (Who would expect a share) will trust such parcels : In the third square, the verie street, and signe Where the commoditie dwels, and do's but wait 95 To be deliver'd, be it pepper, sope, Hops, or tabacco, oat-meale, woad, or cheeses. All which you may so handle, to enjoy, To your owne use, and never stand oblig'd. Kas. V faith ! is he such a fellow ? Fac. Why, Nab here knowes him. 100 And then for making matches, for rich wid- dowes, 92 Fi misprints ( before That. Scene IV.] QT\)t Q\t\)tmi$t 273 Yong gentlewomen, heyres, the fortunat'st man ! Hee's sent too, farre and neere, all over Eng- land, To have his counsell, and to know their for- tunes. Kas. Gods will, my suster shall see him. Fac. I'll tell you, sir, / » ' 105 What he did tell me of Nab. It's a strange thing ! (By the way you must eate no cheese, Nab, it breeds melancholy : And that same melancholy breeds wormes) but passe it, He told me, honest Nab, here, was ne'er at taverne, But once in 's life. Dru. Truth, and no more I was not. no Fac. And, then he was so sick Dru. Could he tell you that, too ? Fac. How should I know it ? Dru. In troth we had beene a shooting, And had a peece of fat ram-mutton, to supper, That lay so heavy o' my stomack Fac. And he has no head To beare any wine ; for, what with the noise o' the fiddlers, 115 And care of his shop, for he dares keepe no servants 274 Stie #lc^emt0t [actih. Dru. My head did so ake- Fac. As he was faine to be brought home, The Doctor told me. And then, a good old woman Dru. (Yes faith, shee dwells in Sea-coale- lane) did cure me, With sodden ale, and pellitorie o' the wall : 120 Cost me but two pence. I had another sick- nesse, Was worse then that. Fac. I, that was with the griefe Thou took'st for being sess'd at eighteene pence, For the water-worke. Dru. In truth, and it was like T' have cost me almost my life. Fac. Thy haire went off ? 125 Dru. Yes, sir, 'twas done for spight. Fac. Nay, so sayes the Doctor. Kas. Pray thee, tabacco-boy, goe fetch my suster, I'll see this learned boy, before I goe : And so shall shee. Fac. Sir, he is busie now : But, if you have a sister to fetch hether, 130 Perhaps, your owne paines may command her sooner ; And he, by that time, will be free. Kas. I goe. [Exit.'] 132 goe, Q^goe, Sir. Scene IV.] f&ty &\t\)t\\\i&t 2JS Fac. Drugger, shee's thine : the damaske. [Exit Abel.'] (Subtle, and I Must wrastle for her.) Come on, Master Dap- per. You see, how I turne clients, here, away, 135 To give your cause dispatch. Ha' you per- form' d The ceremonies were injoyn'd you ? Dap. Yes, o' the vinegar, And the cleane shirt. Fac. 'Tis well : that shirt may doe you More worship then you thinke. Your aunt's a fire But that shee will not shew it, t' have a sight on you. 140 Ha' you provided for her graces servants ? Dap. Yes, here are six-score Edward shil- lings. Fac. Good. Dap. And an old Harry's soveraigne. Fac. Very good. Dap. And three James shillings, and an Eliza- beth groat, Just twentie nobles. Fac. O, you are too just. '45 I would you had had the other noble in Maries. Dap. I have some Philip, and Maries. 276 W$t gldjettttet [Act III. Fac. I, those same Are best of all. Where are they ? Harke, the Doctor. Act III. Scene V. t-, ~ r ■ -1 t\ 1 Subtle disguised like Face, Dapper, [later] DoL a priest of Faery. Subtle. Is yet her graces cossen come ? Face. He is come. Sub. And is he fasting ? Fac. Yes. Sub. And hath cry'd hum? Fac. Thrise, you must answer. Dapper. Thrise. Sub. And as oft buz ? Fac. If you have, say. Dap. I have. Sub. Then, to her cuz, Hoping, that he hath vinegard his senses, 5 As he was bid, the Faery Queene dispenses, By me, this robe, the petticote of Fortune ; Which that he straight put on, shee doth im- portune. And though to Fortune neere be her petticote, Yet, neerer is her smock, the queene doth note : 10 And, therefore, even of that a piece shee hath sent, Scene V.] Qtyt &U\)tn\i8t 277 Which, being a child, to wrap him in, was rent ; And prayes him, for a scarfe, he now will weare it (With as much love, as then her grace did teare it) About his eyes, to shew, he is fortunate. They blind him And, trusting unto her to make his state, """"* a ra g- Hee'll throw away all worldly pelfe, about him ; Which that he will performe, shee doth not doubt him. Fac. Shee need not doubt him, sir. Alas, he has nothing, But what he will part withall, as willingly, 20 Upon her graces word (throw away your purse) As shee would aske it : (hand-kerchiefes, and all) Shee cannot bid that thing, but hee'll obay. (If you have a ring about you, cast it off, Or a silver seale, at your wrist, her Hee throwes away, grace will send as thc y hid him - Her faeries here to search you, therefore deale Directly with her highnesse. If they find That you conceale a mite, you are undone.) Dap. Truely, there's all. Fac. All what ? Dap. My money, truly. Fac. Keepe nothing, that is transitorie, about you. 3° 278 X!tt)t &\t\)tmi$t [Act III. (Bid Dol play musique.) Looke, the Dol enters with elves are come a attaje .■ they To pinch you, if you tell not truth. ?"" Advise you. Dap. O, I have a paper with a spur-ryall in't. Fac. Ti, it; They knew't, they say. Sub. Ti, th ti-> tit ne ^ as more yet. \Aside to Face.'] Fac. Ti, ti-ti-ti. F the tother pocket ? \_Aside to Subtle.] Sub. Titi, titi, titi, titi. 35 They must pinch him, or he will never con- fesse, they say. [They pinch him again.] Dap. O, O. Fac. Nay, 'pray you hold. He is her graces nephew. TV, //', tip What care you ? Good faith, you shall care. Deale plainely, sir, and shame the faeries. Shew You are an innocent. Dap. By this good light, I ha' nothing. 40 Sub. Titi, tititota. He do's equivocate, shee sayes : TV, tidoti, titido, tida. And sweares by the light, when he is blinded. Dap. By this good darke, I ha' nothing but a halfe-crowne Scene V] tyty &lctjemt$t 279 Of gold, about my wrist, that my love gave me; And a leaden heart I wore, sin' shee forsooke me. 45 Fac. I thought, 'twas something. And, would you incurre Your aunts displeasure for these trifles ? Come, I had rather you had throwne away twentie halfe- crownes. [Takes the half-crown of.~\ You may weare your leaden heart still. [Dol turns hastily from the window where she has been scouting} How now ? Sub. What newes, Dol ? Dol. Yonder's your knight, Sir Mammon. 50 Fac. Gods lid, we never thought of him, till now. Where is he ? Dol. Here, hard by. H' is at the doore. Sub. And, you are not readie, now ? Dol, get his suit. [Exit Dol.~\ He must not be sent back. Fac. O, by no meanes. What shall we doe with this same puffin, here, 55 Now hee's o' the spit ? Sub. Why, lay him back a while, With some device. [Re-enter Dol with Face's clothes.] Ti, titi, tititi. Would her grace speake with me ? I come. Helpe, Dol ! 280 Wt)t Q\t\)tmiS>t [Act III. FaC. Who's there ? Sir Epi- He speaies through the key- Clire * hole, the other knocking. My master's i' the way. Please you to walke Three or foure turnes, but till his back be turn'd, 60 And I am for you. Quickly, Dol. Sub. Her grace Commends her kindly to you, Master Dapper. Dap. I long to see her grace. Sub. Shee, now, is set At dinner, in her bed ; and shee has sent you, From her owne private trencher, a dead mouse, 65 And a piece of ginger-bread, to be merry withall, And stay your stomack, lest you faint with fasting : Yet, if you could hold out, till shee saw you (shee sayes) It would be better for you. Fac. Sir, he shall Hold out, and 'twere this two houres, for her highnesse ; ?° I can assure you that. We will not loose All we ha' done. Sub. He must not see, nor speake To any body, till then. Fac. For that, wee'll put, sir, A stay in 'is mouth. Scene V.] X&\)t &it\)tmi&t 28 1 Sub. Of what? Fac. Of ginger bread. Make you it fit. He that hath pleas'd her grace, 75 Thus farre, shall not now crinckle, for a little. Gape sir, and let him fit you. \_They thrust a gag of gingerbread into his mouth.] Sub. Where shall we now Bestow him ? Dol. V the privie. Sub. Come along, sir, I now must shew you Fortunes privy lodgings. Fac. Are they perfum'd ? and his bath readie ? 80 Sub. All. Onely the fumigation's somewhat strong. Fac. [speaking through the key-hole.] Sir Epi- cure, I am yours, sir, by and by. [Exeunt with Dapper.] Act IV. Scene I. [Enter] Face, Mammon, [later] Dol. [Face.] O, sir, yo' are come i' the onely, finest time Matnmon. Where's master ? Fac. Now preparing for projection, sir. Your stuffe will b' all chang'd shortly. Mam. Into gold ? Fac. To gold, and silver, sir. Mam. Silver, I care not for. Fac. Yes, sir, a little to give beggars. Mam. Where's the Lady? 5 Fac. At hand, here. I ha' told her such brave things, o' you, Touching your bountie and your noble spirit Mam. Hast thou ? Fac. As shee is almost in her fit to see you. But, good sir, no divinitie i' your conference, For feare of putting her in rage Mam. I warrant thee. 10 Fac. Sixe men will not hold her downe. And, then If the old man should heare, or see you Mam. Feare not. 6 o'you, Q on you. Scene I.] Qfyt Qlt\)tmi#t 283 Fac. The very house, sir, would runne mad. You know it How scrupulous he is, and violent, 'Gainst the least act of sinne. Physick, or ma- thematiques, 15 Poetrie, state, or bawdry (as I told you) Shee will endure, and never startle : but No word of controversie. Mam. I am school'd, good lUctt. Fac. And you must praise her house, remem- ber that, And her nobilitie. Mam. Let me alone : 20 No herald, no nor antiquarie, Lungs, Shall doe it better. Goe. Fac. Why, this is yet A kind of moderne happinesse to have Dol Common for a great Lady. [Aside, and exit.] Mam. Now, Epicure, Heighten thy selfe, talke to her, all in gold; 25 Raine her as many showers, as Jove did drops Unto his Danae : shew the god a miser, Compar'd with Mammon. What ? the stone will do't. Shee shall feele gold,tast gold, heare gold, sleepe gold: 18 U/en, Q Lungs. 20 Lee me alone, F and Q place a comma after me. 284 Wfyt #kt)emtet [act iv. Nay, we will concumbere gold. I will be puis- sant, so And mightie in my talke to her ! [Re-enter Face, with Dol richly dressed.~\ Here shee comes. Fac. To him, Dol, suckle him. This is the noble knight, I told your Ladiship Mam. Madame, with your pardon, I kisse your vesture. Dol. Sir, I were un-civill If I would suffer that, my lip to you, sir. 35 Mam. I hope my Lord your brother be in health, Lady. Dol. My Lord, my brother is, though I no Ladie, sir. Fac. (Well said my guiny-bird.) Mam. Right noble Madame Fac. (O, we shall have most fierce idolatrie !) Mam. 'Tis your prerogative. Dol. Rather your courtesie. 40 Mam. Were there naught else t' inlarge your vertues, to me, These answeres speake your breeding, and your bloud. Dol. Bloud we boast none, sir, a poore bar- on's daughter. Scene I.] f&ty &kl)nUtet 285 Mam. Poore ! and gat you ? Prophane not. Had your father Slept all the happy remnant of his life 45 After that act, lyen but there still, and panted, H' had done inough, to make himselfe, his issue, And his posteritie noble. Dol. Sir, although We may be said to want the guilt, and trap- pings, The dresse of honor ; yet we strive to keepe 50 The seedes, and the materialls. Mam. I doe see The old ingredient, vertue, was not lost, Nor the drug, money, us'd to make your com- pound. There is a strange nobilitie, i' your eye, This lip, that chin ! Me thinks you doe re- semble 55 One o' the Austriack princes. Fac. [aside]. Very like, Her father was an Irish costar-monger. Mam. The house of Valois, just, had such a nose. And such a fore-head, yet, the Medici Of Florence boast. Dol. Troth, and I have beene lik'ned 60 To all these princes. Fac. [aside]. I'll be sworne, I heard it. 53 drug, money. Fi and F2 omit the comma. 286 X&ty <\)tmi$t [Act IV. Mam. I know not how ! It is not any one, But e'en the very choise of all their features. Fac. I'll in, and laugh. \_Aside, and exit.'] Mam. A certaine touch, or aire, That sparkles a divinitie, beyond 65 An earthly beautie ! Dol. O, you play the courtier. Mam. Good Lady, gi' me leave Dol. In faith, I may not, To mock me, sir. Mam. To burne i' the sweet flame : The phoenix never knew a nobler death. Dol. Nay, now you court the courtier : and destroy 7° What you would build. This art, sir, i' your words, Calls your whole faith in question. Mam. By my soule Dol. Nay, oathes are made o' the same aire, sir. Mam. Nature Never bestow'd upon mortalitie, A more unblam'd, a more harmonious feature : 75 Shee play'd the stcp-dame in all faces, else. Sweet madame, le' me be particular Dol. Particular, sir ? I pray you, know your distance. Mam. In no ill sense, sweet Lady, but to aske Scene I.] t&ty #lct)nniSt 287 How your faire graces passe the houres ? I see 80 Yo'are lodged, here, i' the house of a rare man, An excellent artist : but, what's that to you ? Dol. Yes, sir. I studie here the mathematiques, And distillation. Mam. O, I crie your pardon. H' is a divine instructer ! can extract 85 The soules of all things, by his art ; call all The vertues, and the miracles of the sunne, Into a temperate fornace : teach dull nature What her owne forces are. A man, the emp'- rour Has courted, above Kelley : sent his medalls, 90 And chaines, t' invite him. Dol. I, and for his physick, sir Mam. Above the art of iEsculapius, That drew the envy of the Thunderer ! I know all this, and more. Dol. Troth, I am taken, sir, Whole, with these studies, that contemplate nature : 95 Mam. It is a noble humour. But this forme Was not intended to so darke a use ! Had you beene crooked, foule, of some course mould, A cloyster had done well : but, such a feature, That might stand up the glorie of a kingdome, 100 To live recluse ! is a mere solaecisme, 288 Wfyt gltljettttSt [Act IV. Though in a nunnery. It must not be. I muse, my Lord your brother will permit it ! You should spend halfe my land first, were I hee. Do's not this diamant better, on my finger, Then i' the quarrie? 105 Dol. Yes. Mam. Why, you are like it. You were created, Lady, for the light ! Heare, you shall weare it ; take it, the first pledge Of what I speake : to binde you, to beleeve me. Dol. In chaines of adamant ? Mam. Yes, the strongest bands. And take a secret, too. Here, by your side, no Doth stand, this houre, the happiest man, in Europe. Dol. You are contented, sir? Mam. Nay, in true being : The envy of princes, and the feare of states. Dol. Say you so, Sir Epicure ! Mam. Yes, and thou shalt prove it, Daughter of honor. I have cast mine eye "5 Upon thy forme, and I will reare this beautie, Above all stiles. Dol. You meane no treason, sir ! Mam. No, I will take away that jealousie. I am the Lord of the philosophers stone, And thou the Lady. 120 107 Q omits the. ill in, Q of. Scene I.] ^\)t #lct)Cmt0t 289 Do/. How sir ! Ha' you that ? Mam. I am the master of the maistrie. This day, the good old wretch, here, o' the house Has made it for us. Now, hee's at projection. Thinke therefore, thy first wish, now ; let me heare it : 125 And it shall raine into thy lap, no shower, But flouds of gold, whole cataracts, a deluge, To get a nation on thee ! Do/. You are pleas'd, sir, To worke on the ambition of our sexe. Mam. V am pleas'd, the glorie of her sexe should know, 130 This nooke, here, of the Friers, is no climate For her, to live obscurely in, to learne Physick, and surgery, for the constables wife Of some odde hundred in Essex ; but come forth, And tast the aire of palaces ; eate, drinke 135 The toyles of emp'ricks, and their boasted practice ; Tincture of pearle, and corrall, gold, and amber ; Be seene at feasts, and triumphs ; have it ask'd, What miracle shee is ? Set all the eyes Of court a-fire, like a burning glasse, I40 And worke 'hem into cinders ; when the Jewells Of twentie states adorne thee ; and the light Strikes out the starres ; that, when thy name is mention'd, 290 tEtje #lct)emi0t [act iv. Queenes may looke pale : and we but shewing our love, Nero's Poppaea may be lost in storie ! 145 Thus, will we have it. Dol. I could well consent, sir. But, in a monarchy, how will this be ? The prince will soone take notice ; and both seize You, and your stone : it being a wealth unfit For any private subject. Mam. If he knew it. I5 o Dol. Your selfe doe boast it, sir. Mam. To thee, my life. Dol. O, but beware, sir ! You may come to end The remnant of your daies, in a loath'd prison, By speaking of it. Mam. 'Tis no idle feare ! Wee'll therefore goe with all, my girle, and live 155 In a free state ; where we will eate our mullets, Sous'd in high-countrey wines, sup phesants egges, And have our cockles, boild in silver shells, Our shrimps to swim againe, as when they liv'd, In a rare butter, made of dolphins milke, 160 Whose creame do's looke like opalls : and, with these Delicate meats, set our selves high for pleasure, Scene I.] Wfyt &\t\)tXili&t 291 And take us downe againe, and then renew Our youth, and strength, with drinking the elixir, And so enjoy a perpetuitie 165 Of life, and lust. And, thou shalt ha' thy ward- robe, Richer then natures, still, to change thy selfe, And vary oftner, for thy pride, then shee : Or art, her wise, and almost-equall servant. [Re-enter Face.] Fac. Sir, you are too loud. I heare you, every word, 170 Into the laboratory. Some fitter place. The garden, or great chamber above. How like you her ? Mam. Excellent ! Lungs. There's for thee. [Gives him money. ,] Fac. But doe you heare ? Good sir, beware, no mention of the rabbines. Mam. We thinke not on 'hem. Fac. O, it is well, sir. [Exeunt Mammon and Do/.] Subtle! 175 171 laboratory, Fl and F2 labaratory. 292 W$t #Ul)ntti0t [Act IV. Act IV. Scene II. Face ; [enter] Subtle, [later] Kastril, Dame Pliant. [Face.] Dost thou not laugh ? Subtle. Yes. Are they gone ? Fac. All's cleare. Sub. The widdow is come. Fac. And your quarrelling disciple ? Sub. I. Fac. I must to my captaine-ship againe, then. Sub. Stay, bring 'hem in, first. Fac. So I meant. What is shee ? A bony-bell ? Sub. I know not. Fac. Wee'll draw lots, You'll stand to that ? Sub. What else ? Fac. O, for a suite, To fall now, like a cortine : flap. Sub. To th' dore, man. Fac. You'll ha' the first kisse, 'cause I am not readie. [Face goes to the door.] Sub. Yes, and perhaps hit you through both the nostrils. Fac. [at the door.] Who would you speak with ? Kastril. Wher's the Captaine ? Scene II.] Xfrty #Ut)emi0t 293 Fac. Gone, sir. I0 About some businesse. Kas. Gone ? Fac. Hee'll returne straight. But Master Doctor, his lieutenant, is here. [ Enter Kastril, followed by Dame Pliant. ~\ Sub. Come neere, my worshipfull boy, my terra fill, That is, my boy of land ; make thy approches : Welcome, I know thy lusts, and thy desires, 15 And I will serve, and satisfie 'hem. Beginne, Charge me from thence, or thence, or in this line ; Here is my center : ground thy quarrell. Kas. You lie. Sub. How, child of wrath, and anger ! the loud lie ? For what, my sodaine boy ? Kas. Nay, that looke you too, 20 I am afore-hand. Sub. O, this's no true grammar, And as ill logick ! You must render causes, child, Your first, and second intentions, know your canons, And your divisions, moodes, degrees, and differ- ences, 294 tEfie #lctwntet [act iv. Your praedicaments, substance, and accident, 25 Series externe, and interne, with their causes Efficient, materiall, formall, finall, And ha' your elements perfect Kas. What is this ! The angrie tongue he talkes in ? Sub. That false precept, Of being afore-hand, has deceiv'd a number 30 And made 'hem enter quarrels, often-times Before they were aware : and, afterward, Against their wills. Kas. How must I doe then, sir ? Sub. I crie this Lady mercy. Shee should, first, Have beene saluted. I doe call you Lady, 35 Because you are to be one, ere 't be long, My soft, and buxome widdow. He kisses her. Kas. Is she, i-faith ? Sub. Yes, or my art is an egregious lyar. Kas. How know you ? Sub. By inspection, on her fore-head, And subtletie of her lip, which must be tasted 4° Often, to make judgement. 'Slight, shee He kisses melts her a S aine - Like a myrobolane ! Here is, yet, a line, In vivo frontis, tells me, he is no knight. Pliant. What is he then, sir ? Sub. Let me see your hand. Scene II.] 1&\)t glcljemt0t 295 O, your line a fortunes makes it plaine ; 45 And Stella, here, in rnonte Veneris : But, most of all, junctura annularis. He is a souldier, or a man of art, Lady : But shall have some great honour, shortly. PH. Brother, Hee's a rare man, beleeve me ! Kas. Hold your peace. 5° [Re-enter Face in his uniform.] Here comes the tother rare man. 'Save you Captaine. Fac. Good Master Kastril. Is this your sister ? ' Kas. I, sir. Please you to kusse her, and be proud to know her, Fac. I shall be proud to know you, Ladie. [Kisses her.] PH. Brother, He calls me Ladie, too. Kas. I, peace. I heard it. 55 Fac. The count is come. Sub. 'Where is he ? Fac. At the dore. Sub. Why, you must entertaine him. Fac. What'll you doe With these the while ? 296 W$z &k\)tmi&t [act rv. Sub. Why, have 'hem up, and shew 'hem Some fustian booke, or the darke glasse. Fac. 'Fore God, Shee is a delicate dab-chick ! I must have her. 60 [Exit Face.~\ Sub. Must you ? I, if your fortune will, you must. Come, sir, the Captaine will come to us pre- sently, I'll ha' you to my chamber of demonstrations, Where I'll shew you both the grammar, and logick, And rhetorick of quarrelling ; my whole method, 65 Drawne out in tables : and my instrument, That hath severall scale upon't, shall make you Able to quarrell, at a strawes breadth, by moone- light. And, Lady, I'll have you looke in a glasse, Some halfe an houre, but to cleare your eye- sight, 7 o Against you see your fortune : which is greater, Then I may judge upon the sodaine, trust me. [Exit, followed by Kastril and Dame Pliant .] Scene III.] W$t &Ut)Cmtfl(t 297 Act IV. Scene III. Face, Subtle, Surly. [Face.] Where are you, Doctor ? Subtle [within] . I'll come to you presently. Fac. I will ha' this same widdow, now I ha' seene her, On any composition. [Enter Subtle.'] Sub. What doe you say ? Fac. Ha' you dispos'd of them ? Sub. I ha' sent 'hem up. Fac. Subtle, in troth, I needs must have this widdow. 5 Sub. Is that the matter ? Fac. Nay, but heare me. Sub. Goe to, If you rebell once, Dol shall know it all. Therefore, be quiet, and obey your chance. Fac. Nay, thou art so violent now — Doe but conceive : Thou art old, and canst not serve Sub. Who, cannot I ? i° 'Slight, I will serve her with thee, for a Fac. Nay, But understand : I'll gi' you composition. II 'Slight. QJSblood. 298 Qtt)t Qk\)tmi$t [act iv. Sub. I will not treat with thee : what, sell my fortune ? 'Tis better then my birth-right. Doe not mur- mure. Winne her, and carrie her. If you grumble, Dol 15 Knowes it directly. Fac. Well sir, I am silent. Will you goe helpe, to fetch in Don, in state ? Sub. I follow you, sir: \exit Face] we must keepe Face in awe, Or he will over-looke us like a ty- ranne. Braine of a taylor ! Who comes l>Tf f™ y . ivxth\ Surly like here? Donjon! a Spaniard. 20 Sur. Sennores, beso las manos, a vuestras mer- cedes. Sub. Would you had stoup'd a little, and kist our anos. Fac. Peace, Subtle. Sub. Stab me ; I shall never hold, man. He lookes in that deepe ruffe, like a head in a platter, Serv'd in by a short cloake upon two tressils ! 25 Fac. Or, what doe you say to a collar of brawne, cut downe Beneath the souse, and wriggled with a knife ? Sub. 'Slud, he do's looke too fat to be a Spaniard. Scene III] ^0 £UcfyCmt0t 299 /#<:. Perhaps some Fleming, or some Hol- lander got him In D'Alva's time : Count Egmonts bastard. Sub. Don, 30 Your scirvy, yellow, Madrid face is welcome. Sur. Gratia. Sub. He speakes, out of a fortification. 'Pray God, he ha' no squibs in those deepe sets. Sur. Por dios, sennores, muy linda casa ! Sub. What sayes he ? Fac. Praises the house, I thinke, 35 I know no more but 's action. Sub. Yes, the casa, My precious Diego, will prove faire inough, To cossen you in. Doe you marke ? You shall Be cossened, Diego. Fac. Cossened, doe you see ? My worthy Donzel, cossened. Sur. Entiendo. 40 Sub. Doe you intend it ? So doe we, deare Don. Have you brought pistolets ? or portagues ? Hefeeks My solemne Don ? Dost thou feele any ? *« pockets. Fac. Full. Sub. You shall be emptied, Don ; pumped, and drawne, Drie, as they say. Fac. Milked, in troth, sweet Don. 45 31 Madrid, Q_Madril. 300 (Etje #lct)emi£t [act iv. Sub. See all the monsters; the great lyon of all, Don. Sur. Con licencia, se puede ver a esta sennora ? Sub. What tallces he now ? Fac. O' the sennora. Sub. O, Don, That is the lyonesse, which you shall see Also, my Don. Fac. 'Slid, Subtle, how shall we doe ? 50 Sub. For what ? Fac. Why Dol's emploi'd, you know. Sub. That's true ! 'Fore heav'n I know not : he must stay, that's all. Fac. Stay ? That he must not by no meanes. Sub. No, why ? Fac. Unlesse you'll marre all. 'Slight, hee'll suspect it. And then he will not pay, not halfe so well. 55 This is a travell'd punque-master, and do's know All the delayes : a notable hot raskall, And lookes, already, rampant. Sub. 'Sdeath, and Mammon Must not be troubled. Fac. Mammon, in no case ! Sub. What shall we doe then ? 47 Sennora, F and (,) read sennora. Scene III.] Qfl)t 8lt\)tmi8t 301 Fac. Thinke : you must be sodaine. 60 Sur. Entiendo, que la sennora es tan hermosa, que codicio tan a verla, como la bien aventuranfa de mi vida. Fac. Mi vida ? 'Slid, Subtle, he puts me in minde o' the widow. What dost thou say to draw her to't ? Ha ? And tell her, it is her fortune. All our venter 65 Now lies upon't. It is but one man more, Which on 's chance to have her : and, beside, There is no maiden-head, to be fear'd, or lost. What dost thou thinke on't, Subtle ? Sub. Who, I ? Why Fac. The credit of our house too is engag'd. 7° Sub. You made me an offer for my share e're while. What wilt thou gi' me, i-faith ? Fac. O, by that light, He not buy now. You know your doome to me. E'en take your lot, obey your chance, sir; winne her, And weare her, out for me. Sub. 'Slight. I'll not worke her then. 75 Fac. It is the common cause, therefore be- thinke you. Dol else must know it, as you said. 62 verla . . . a-venturan$a, F and Q read ver la ; and crventu- rdn$a. 302 W$t #lcl)emt0t [act iv. Sub. I care not. Sur. Sennores, porque se tarda tanta ? Sub. Faith, I am not fit, I am old. Fac. That's now no reason, sir. Sur. Puede ser, de bazer bur la de mi amor. 80 Fac. You heare the Don, too? By this ayre, I call. And loose the hinges, \he calls] Dol. Sub. A plague of hell Fac. Will you then doe ? Sub. Yo' are a terrible rogue, He thinke of this : will you, sir, call the widow ? Fac. Yes, and He take her too, with all her faults, 8 5 Now I doe thinke on't better. Sub. With all my heart, sir, Am I discharg'd o' the lot ? Fac. As you please. Sub. Hands. \Tbey shake bands.] Fac. Remember now, that upon any change, You never claime her. Sub. Much good joy, and health to you, sir. Marry a whore ? Fate, let me wed a witch first. 90 Sur. Por estas bonradas barbas Sub. He swearcs by his beard. Dispatch, and call the brother too. [Exit Face.] 78 tanta, Qjanta. 86 Sir, Fi and F2 comma ; Q period. 91 honradas, F and Q honrada's. Scene IV.] ^\)t QUtytmtit 3°3 Sur. Tengo duda, sennores, £hie no me hagan alguna traycion. Sub. How, issue on ? Yes, prasto sennor. Please you Enthratba the chambratha, worthy Don ; 95 Where if it please the Fates, in your bathada, You shall be sok'd, and strok'd, and tub'd, and rub'd : And scrub'd, and fub'd, deare Don, before you goe. You shall, in faith, my scirvie babioun Don : Be curried, claw'd, and flaw'd, and taw'd, in- deed. I00 I will the heartilier goe about it now, And make the widdow a punke, so much the sooner, To be reveng'd on this impetuous Face : The quickly doing of it is the grace. \Exeunt Subtle and Surly.] Act IV. Scene IV. [Enter] Face, Kastril, Da [me] Pliant, [later] Subtle, Surly. [Face.] Come Ladie: I knew, the Doctor would not leave, Till he had found the very nick of her fortune. 93 Tengo duda, F and Q Tiengo duda. 304 W$Z <\)tmi&t [Act IV. Kastril. To be a countesse, say you ? Fac. A Spanish countesse, sir. Pliant. Why ? is that better then an English countesse ? Fac. Better ? 'Slight, make you that a ques- tion, ladie ? 5 Kas. Nay, shee is a foole, Captaine, you must pardon her. Fac. Aske from your courtier, to your Innes of Court-man, To your mere millaner : they will tell you all, Your Spanish jennet is the best horse. Your Spanish Stoupe is the best garbe. Your Spanish beard 10 Is the best cut. Your Spanish ruffes are the best Weare. Your Spanish pavin the best daunce. Your Spanish titillation in a glove The best perfume. And, for your Spanish pike, And Spanish blade, let your poore Captaine speake. 15 Here comes the Doctor. \_Enter Subtle, with a paper. ,] Subtle. My most honor'd Ladie, (For so I am now to stile you, having found By this my scheme, you are to under-goe An honorable fortune, very shortly.) What will you say now, if some 3 Fi and F2 omit Fac. Scene IV.] {EI)C g\t\)ttlli*t 305 Fac. I ha' told her all, sir. 20 And her right worshipfull brother, here, that shee shall be, A countesse : doe not delay 'hem, sir. A Span- ish countesse. Sub. Still, my scarce worshipfull Captaine, you can keepe No secret. Well, since he has told you, Ma- dame, Doe you forgive him, and I doe. Kas. Shee shall doe that, sir. 25 I'le looke to't, 'tis my charge. Sub. Well then. Nought rests But that shee fit her love, now, to her fortune. Pli. Truely, I shall never brooke a Spaniard. Sub. No? Pli. Never, sin' eighty-eight could I abide 'hem, And that was some three yeere afore I was borne, in truth. 30 Sub. Come, you must love him, or be miserable : Choose, which you will. Fac. By this good rush, perswade her, Shee will crie straw-berries else, within this twelve-month. Sub. Nay, shads, and mackrell, which is worse. 306 W$z &k\)tmi8t [act iv. Fac. Indeed, sir ? Kas. Gods lid, you shall love him, or He kick you. Pti. Why? 35 He doe as you will ha' me, brother. Kas. Doe, Or by this hand, I'll maull you. Fac. Nay, good sir, Be not so fierce. Sub. No, my enraged child, Shee will be rul'd. What, when shee comes to tast The pleasures of a countesse ! to be courted 40 Fac. And kist, and ruffled ! Sub. I, behind the hangings. Fac. And then come forth in pompe ! Sub. And know her state ! Fac. Of keeping all th' idolaters o' the chamber Barer to her, then at their prayers ! Sub. Is serv'd Upon the knee ! Fac. And has her pages, huishers, 45 Foot-men, and coaches Sub. Her sixe mares Fac. Nay, eight ! Sub. To hurry her through London, to th' Exchange, Bet'lem, the China-houses 45 Huishers, F2 ushers. S° Scene IV.] tZTljC &\c\)tmi&t Z°7 Fac. Yes, and have The citizens gape at her, and praise her tyres ! And my-lords goose-turd bands, that rides with her! Kas. Most brave ! By this hand, you are not my suster, If you refuse. Pli. I will not refuse, brother. \Enter Surly.! Surly. 6)ue es esto, sennores, que non se venga ? Esta tardanza me ?nata ! Fac. It is the Count come ! The Doctor knew he would be here, by his art. 55 Sub. En gallanta madama, Don ! gallantis- sima ! Sur. Por todos los dioses, la mas acabada Hermosura, que he visto en mi vida ! Fac. Is't not a gallant language, that they speake ? Kas. An admirable language! Is't not French? 60 Fac. No, Spanish, sir. Kas. It goes like law-French. And that, they say, is the court-liest language. Fac. List, sir. Sur. El sol ha perdido su lumbre, con el Resplandor, que trae esta dama. Valgame dios ! 57 todos. F and Q^toJos. 58 Hermosura. Q^_Hermosura. 63 Valgame. F and Q^Valga me. 308 W$t #lctjnittgt [Act IV. Fac. He' admires your sister. Kas. Must not shee make curtsie ? 65 Sub. 'Ods will, shee must goe to him, man ; and kisse him ! It is the Spanish fashion, for the women To make first court. Fac. 'Tis true he tells you, sir : His art knowes all. Sur. For que no se acude ? Kas. He speakes to her, I thinke. Fac. That he do's, sir. 70 Sur. Por el amor de dios, que es esto, que se tarda ? Kas. Nay,' see : shee will not understand him ! Gull. Noddy. PH. What say you brother ? Kas. Asse, my suster, Goe kusse him, as the cunning man would ha' you; I'll thrust a pinne i' your buttocks else. Fac. O, no sir. 7S Sur. Sennora m\a, mi persona muy indigna esta A lie gar a tanta Hermosura. Fac. Do's he not use her bravely ? Kas. Bravely, i-faith ! Fac. Nay, he will use her better. 76, 77 esta, A Hegar, tanta. F and Qjsta, Alk gar a tanta. Scene IV] &\)t glCijCttUflft 309 Kas. Doe you thinke so ? Sur. Sennora, si sera servida, entremos. go [Exit with Dame Pliant.] Kas. Where do's he carry her ? Fac. Into the garden, sir; Take you no thought : I must interpret for her. Sub. Give Dol the word. \_Aside to Face, who goes out.] Come, my fierce child, advance, Wee'll to our quarrelling lesson againe. Kas. Agreed. I love a Spanish boy, with all my heart. s 5 Sub. Nay, and by this meanes, sir, you shall be brother To a great count. Kas. I, I knew that, at first. This match will advance the house of the Kas- trils. Sub. 'Pray God, your sister prove but pliant. Kas. Why, Her name is so : by her other husband. Sub. How ? Kas. The Widdow Pliant. Knew you not that ? Sub. No faith, sir. Yet, by erection of her figure, I gest it. Come, let's goe practice. 80 entremos, F and Q en tr emus. 90 310 XEfyt 2L\tfytmtet [activ. Kas. Yes, but doe you thinke, Doctor, I e'er shall quarrell well ? Sub. I warrant you. [Exeunt.] Act IV. Scene V. [Enter] Dol, [followed by] Mammon; [later] Face, Subtle. [Dol.] For, after Alexanders /„ her fit of death talking. Mammon. Good lady Dol. That Perdiccas, and Antigonus were slaine, The two that stood, Seleuc' and Ptolomee Mam. Madame. Dol. Made up the two legs, and the fourth beast. That was Gog-north, and Egypt-south : which after 5 Was call'd Gog Iron - leg, and South Iron- leg Mam. Lady Dol. And then Gog-horned. So was Egypt, too. Then Egypt clay-leg, and Gog clay-leg Ma?n. Sweet madame Dol. And last Gog-dust, and Egypt-dust, which fall Scene V] 'faty &Ut)nm$t 3H In the last linke of the fourth chaine. And these IO Be starres in story, which none see, or looke at Mam. What shall I doe ? Dol. For, as he sayes, except We call the rabbines, and the heathen Greekes Mam. Deare lady Dol. To come from Salem, and from Ath- ens, And teach the people of Great Britaine [Enter Face, hastily, in his servant's dress.~\ Face. What's the matter, sir? 15 Dol. To speake the tongue of Eber, and Javan Ma?n. O, Sh' is in her fit. Dol. We shall know nothing Fac. Death, sir, We are un-done. Dol. Where, then, a learned linguist Shall see the antient us'd communion Of vowels, and consonants Fac. My master will heare ! 20 Dol. A wisedome, which Pythagoras held most high 3 1 2 &t)e &it\)tmi$t [Act IV. Mam. Sweet honorable lady ! Dol. To comprise All sounds of voyces, in few markes of let- ters Fac. Nay, you must never hope to lay her now. They speake together. Dol. And so we may arrive Fac. How did you put her by Talmud skill, 25 into't ? And profane Greeke, to raise the Mam. Alas I talk'd building up Of a fift monarchy I would Of Helens house, against the erect, Ismaelite, With the philosophers stone (by King of Thogarma, and his chance) and shee 35 habergions Fals on the other foure, straight. Brimstony, blew, and fiery ; and Fac. Out of Broughton ! the force I told you so. 'Slid, stop her Of King Abaddon, and the beast mouth. of Cittim : 30 Mam. Is't best ? Which Rabbi David Kimchi, Fac. She'll never leave else. Onkelos, If the old man heare her, And Aben-Ezra doe interpret We are but faces, ashes. Rome. Sub. [n 11 Kastril knocks. slaves, you 11 open the dore anone, Punque, cockatrice, my suster. By this light I'll fetch the marshall to you. You are a whore, 35 To keepe your castle Fac. Who would you speake with, sir ? Kas. The bawdy Doctor, and the cosening Captaine, And pus my suster. Lov. This is something, sure ! Fac. Upon my trust, the dores were never open, sir. Kas. I have heard all their tricks, told me twice over, 4 o By the fat knight, and the leane gentleman. Lov. Here comes another. [Enter Ananias and Tribulation.] Fac. Ananias too ? And his pastor ? Tribulation. The dores are shut They beat too, against us. at the dore - 33 you 11, Q^jou'il. Scene III] ?&ty &Ut>emt0t 34 1 Ananias. Come forth, you seed of sulphure, sonnes of fire, Your stench, it is broke forth : abomination 4S Is in the house. Kas. I, my suster's there. Ana. The place, It is become a cage of uncleane birds. Kas. Yes, I will fetch the scavenger, and the constable. Tri. You shall doe well. Ana. Wee'll joyne, to weede them out. Kas. You will not come then ? punque, de- vice, my suster ! 50 Ana. Call her not sister. Shee is a harlot, verily. Kas. I'll raise the street. Lov. Good gentleman, a word. Ana. Sathan, avoid, and hinder not our zeale. \_Exeunt Ananias, Tribulation, and Kastri/.l Lov. The world's turn'd Bet'lem. Fac. These are all broke loose, Out of S. Kather'nes, where they use to keepe The better sort of mad-folkes. Nei. 1. All these persons We saw goe in, and out, here. Nei. 2. Yes, indeed, sir. Nei. j. These were the parties. 44 sulphure, . . fire, Q vipers, . . Belial. 45 stench, it, Qjvickednesse. 46 Qjjmits I. 48 Tes, QJL. 55 342 tEtje glctjemiat [act v. Fac. Peace, you drunkards. Sir, I wonder at it ! Please you, to give me leave To touch the dore, I'll trie, an' the lock be chang'd. 60 Lov. It mazes me ! Fac. [Goes to the door.~\ Good faith, sir, I beleeve, There's no such thing. 'Tis all deceptio visus. [Aside^ Would I could get him away. Dapper. Master Captayne, Master Dapper ayes Doctor. out ' w ' l ^' n - Lov. Who's that ? Fac. (Our dark within, that I forgot !) I know not, sir. Dap. \%vithin\ . For Gods sake, when wil her grace be at leisure ? Fac. Ha! 65 Illusions, some spirit o' the aire : (his gag is melted, And now he sets out the throte.) Dap. [within^ . I am almost stiffled Fac. (Would you were altogether.) Lov. 'Tis i' the house. Ha! list. Fac. Beleeve it, sir, i' the aire ! Lov. Peace, you Dap. \with\n\ . Mine aunts grace do's not use me well. 60 an', Qjmd. Scene III.] ?&\)t Hlctjettttfift 343 Subtle. [within] . You foole, 7 o Peace, you'll marre all. Fac. [Speaks through the key-bole, ivhile Love- wit advances to the door unobserved.] Or you will else, you rogue. Lov. O, is it so ? Then you converse with spirits ! Come, sir. No more o' your tricks, good Jere- mie, The truth, the shortest way. Fac. Dismisse this rabble, sir. [Aside.] What shall I doe ? I am catch'd. Lov. Good neighbours, I thanke you all. You may depart. [ Exeunt Neighbours.! Come, sir, You know that I am an indulgent master : And therefore, conceale nothing. What's your med'cine, To draw so many severall sorts of wild-fowle ? Fac. Sir, you were wont to affect mirth, and wit : 80 (But here's no place to talke on't i' the street.) Give me but leave, to make the best of my for- tune, And onely pardon me th' abuse of your house : It's all I begge. I'll helpe you to a widdow, In recompence, that you shall gi' me thankes for, 85 75 344 W^t aictjemist [act v. Will make you seven yeeres yonger, and a rich one. 'Tis but your putting on a Spanish cloake, I have her within. You need not feare the house, It was not visited. Lov. But by me, who came Sooner then you expected. Fac. It is true, sir. 90 'Pray you forgive me. Lov. Well : let's see your widdow. [Exeunt.] Act V. Scene IV. [Enter] Subtle, [leading in] Dapper, [with his eyes bound as before ; later] Face, Do I. Subtle. How ! ha' you eaten your gag ? Dapper. Yes faith, it crumbled Away i' my mouth. Sub. You ha' spoil'd all then. Dap. No, I hope my aunt of Faery will forgive me. Sub. Your aunt's a gracious lady : but in troth You were to blame. Dap. The fume did over-come me, 5 And I did do't to stay my stomack. 'Pray you, So satisfie her grace. 4 troth, Qjruth. Scene IV.] W$t #lC&Cmt$t 345 \Enter Face.~\ Here comes the Captaine, Face. How now ! Is his mouth downe ? Sub. I ! he has spoken ! Fac. (A poxe, I heard him, and you too.) Hee's un-done, then. (I have beene faine to say, the house is haunted 10 With spirits, to keepe churle back. Sub. And hast thou done it ? Fac. Sure, for this night. Sub. Why, then triumph, and sing Of Face so famous, the precious king Of present wits. Fac. Did you not heare the coyle, About the dore ? Sub. Yes, and I dwindled with it.) 15 Fac. Shew him his aunt, and let him be dis- patched : I'll send her to you. [Exit Face.~\ Sub. Well sir, your aunt her grace, Will give you audience presently, on my sute, And the Captaines word, that you did not eate your gag, In any contempt of her highnesse. 'Dap. Not I, in troth, sir. 2 ° Sub. Here shee is come. Downe o' ^ ol like f . 1 • 1 i$ueene of your knees, and wriggle : Faery. 346 tEtje #lct)nntet [act v. Shee has a stately presence. \_Dapper kneels, and shuffles towards her.~\ Good. Yet neerer, And bid, God save you ! Dap. Madame. Sub. And your aunt. Dap. And my most gracious aunt, God save your grace. Dol. Nephew, we thought to have beene angrie with you : 25 But that sweet face of yours, hath turn'd the tide, And made it flow with joy, that eb'd of love. Arise, and touch our velvet gowne. Sub. The skirts, And kisse 'hem. So. Dol. Let me now stroke that head, Much, nephew, shalt thou win ; much shalt thou spend ; 30 Much shalt thou give away : much shalt thou lend. Sub. (I, much, indeed.) Why doe you not thanke her grace ? Dap. I cannot speake, for joy. Sub. See, the kind wretch ! Your graces kins-man right. Dol. Give me the Bird. Here is your Fly in a purse, about your neck, cosen, 35 23 you, QJier. 4 o Scene IV] ^C &\t\)tmi$t 347 Weare it, and feed it, about this day sev'night, On your right wrist Sub. Open a veine, with a pinne, And let it suck but once a weeke : till then, You must not looke on't. Dol. No. And, kins-man, Beare your selfe worthy of the bloud you come on. Sub. Her grace would ha' you eate no more Wool-sack pies, Nor Dagger frume'ty. Dol. Nor breake his fast, In Heaven, and Hell. Sub. Shee's with you every where ! Nor play with costar-mongers, at mum-chance, tray-trip, God make you rich, (when as your aunt has done it :) but keepe 45 The gallant'st company, and the best games Dap. Yes, sir. Sub. Gleeke and primero : and what you get, be true to us. Dap. By this hand, I will. Sub. You may bring's a thousand pound, Before to morrow night, (if but three thousand, Be stirring) an' you will. Dap. I sweare, I will then. 50 Sub. Your Fly will learne you all games. 50, an , Q^if. 348 Wc>t glctjetmsit [act v. Fac. \within\ . Ha' you done there ? Sub. Your grace will command him no more duties ? Dol. No: But come, and see me often. I may chance To leave him three or foure hundred chests of treasure, And some twelve thousand acres of Faerie land: 55 If he game well, and comely, with good game- sters. Sub. There's a kind aunt ! Kisse her de- parting part. But you must sell your fortie marke a yeare, now : Dap. I, sir, I meane. Sub. Or, gi't away : pox on't. Dap. I'le gi't mine aunt. He go and fetch the writings. 60 Sub. 'Tis well, away ! [Exit Dapper, re-enter Face.~\ Fac. Where's Subtle ? Sub. Here. What newes ? Fac. Drugger is at the doore, goe take his suite, And bid him fetch a parson presently: Say, he shall marrie the widdow. Thou shalt spend 55 ttucl've, Q__five. 58 your, Fl you. 59 pox, Q^a poxe. 60 Dap. Fi and Q Fac. Scene IV.] t^\)t 3Hc\)tXl%i&t 349 A hundred pound by the service ! [Exit Subtle.~\ Now, Queene Dol, 65 Ha' you pack'd up all ? Dol. Yes. Fac. And how doe you like The Lady Plyant ? Dol. A good dull innocent. [Re-enter Subtle.] Sub. Here's your Hieronymo's cloake, and hat. Fac. Give mee 'hem. Sub. And the ruffe too ? Fac. Yes, I'll come to you presently, [is*//.] Sub. Now, he is gone about his project, Dol, 7 o I told you of, for the widow. Dol. 'Tis direct Against our articles. Sub. Well, wee'll fit him, wench. Hast thou gull'd her of her jewels, or her brace- lets ? Dol. No, but I will do't. Sub. Soone at night, my Dolly, When we are shipt, and all our goods aboord, 75 East-ward for Ratcliffe ; we will turne our course To Brainford, westward, if thou saist the word : 350 tEtje Qk\)tmi8t [act v. And take our leaves of this ore-weaning raskall, This peremptorie Face. Dol. Content, I 'am weary of him. Sub. Thou 'hast cause, when the slave will runne a wiving, Dol, 80 Against the instrument, that was drawne be- tweene us. Dol. I'll plucke his bird as bare as I can. Sub. Yes, tell her, She must by any meanes, addresse some present To th' cunning man ; make him amends, for wronging His art with her suspition ; send a ring; 85 Or chaine of pearle ; shee will be tortur'd else Extremely in her sleepe, say : and ha' strange things Come to her. Wilt thou ? Dol. Yes. Sub. My fine flitter-mouse, My bird o' the night ; wee'll tickle it at the Pigeons, When we have all, and may un-lock the trunkes, 90 And say, this's mine, and thine, and thine, and mine They kisst. \_Re-enter Face.] Fac. What now, a billing ? 80 Thou 'hast cause, F tho' hast. Scene IV.] tEljt &Ul)tmi&t 35* Sub. Yes, a little exalted In the good passage of our stock-affaires. Fac. Drugger has brought his parson, take him in, Subtle, And send Nab back againe, to wash his face. 95 Sub. I will : and shave himselfe. [.ZsavV.] Fac. If you can get him. Dol. You are hot upon it, Face, what ere it is ! Fac. A trick, that Dol shall spend ten pound a month by. [Re-enter Subtle.] Is he gone ? Sub. The chaplaine waits you i' the hall, sir. Fac. I'll goe bestow him. \_Exit.~\ Dol. Hee'll now marry her, instantly. ioo Sub. He cannot, yet, he is not readie. Deare Dol, Cosen her of all thou canst. To deceive him Is no deceipt, but justice, that would breake Such an inextricable tye as ours was. Dol. Let me alone to fit him. [Re-enter Face.] Fac. Come, my venturers, I05 You ha' pack'd up all ? Where be the trunkes ? Bring forth. Sub. Here. 95 Nab, QJiim. 352 Wfyt alchemist [act v. Fac. Let's see 'hem. Where's the money ? Sub. Here, In this. Fac. Mammons ten pound : eight score be- fore. The Brethrens money, this. Druggers, and Dappers. What paper's that ? Dol. The jewell of the waiting maides, no That stole it from her lady, to know cer- taine Fac. If shee should have precedence of her mistris ? Dol. Yes. Fac. What boxe is that? Sub. The fish-wives rings, I thinke : And th' ale-wives single money. Is't not Dol ? Dol. Yes : and the whistle, that the saylors wife 115 Brought you, to know, and her husband were with Ward. Fac. Wee'll wet it to-morrow : and our sil- ver-beakers, And taverne cups. Where be the French petti- coats, And girdles, and hangers ? Sub. Here, i' the trunke, And the bolts of lawne. Scene IV.] XB\)t &lct)etmSt 353 Fac. Is Druggers damaske, there ? 120 And the tabacco ? Sub. Yes. Fac. Give me the keyes. Dol. Why you the keyes ! Sub. No matter, Dol : because We shall not open 'hem, before he comes. Fac. 'Tis true, you shall not open them, in- deed : Nor have 'hem forth. Doe you see ? Not forth, Dol. Dol. No ! 125 Fac. No, my smock-rampant. The right is, my master Knowes all, has pardon'd me, and he will keepe 'hem, Doctor, 'tis true (you looke) for all your figures : I sent for him, indeed. Wherefore, good partners, Both hee, and shee, be satisfied : for, here 130 Determines the indenture tripartite, 'Twixt Subtle, Dol, and Face. All I can doe Is to helpe you over the wall, o' the back-side; Or lend you a sheet, to save your velvet gowne, Dol. Here will be officers, presently; bethinke you, 135 Of some course sodainely to scape the dock : For thether you'll come else. Harke „ , , , , come knock. you, thunder. 354 Qtt)t #lcljemisft [act v. Sub. You are a precious fiend ! Officer [without] . Open the dore. Fac. Dol, I am sorry for thee i-faith ; but hearst thou ? It shall goe hard, but I will place thee some- where : 140 Thou shalt ha' my letter to Mistris Amo. Dol. Hang you Fac. Or Madame Caesarean. Dol. Poxe upon you, rogue, Would I had but time to beat thee. Fac. Subtle, Let's know where you set up next ; I'll send you A customer, now and then, for old acquaintance : 145 What new course ha' you ? Sub. Rogue, I'll hang my selfe : That I may walke a greater divell, then thou, And haunt thee i' the flock-bed, and the buttery. [Exeunt.] Act V. Scene V. [is«^r] Love-wit [in the Spanish dress, with the Parson. Loud knocking at the door ; about which are gathered] Officers, Mammon, Surly, Face, Kastril, Ananias, Tribulation, Drugger, Da [me] Pliant. [Lovewit.] What doe you meane, my mas- ters ? 138 Sub. Fi Syb. 14a Casarean, QJmperiall. Scene V] Qfyt Qit\)tmi$t 355 Mammon. Open your dore, Cheaters, bawds, conjurers. Officer. Or wee'll breake it open. Lov. What warrant have you ? Off. Warrant inough, sir, doubt not : If you'll not open it. Lov. Is there an officer, there ? Off. Yes, two, or three for fayling. Lov. Have but patience, 5 And I will open it straight. [ Enter Face.~\ Fac. Sir, ha' you done ? Is it a marriage ? perfect ? Lov. Yes, my braine. Fac. Off with your ruffe, and cloake then, be your selfe, sir. Surly. Downe with the dore. Kastril. 'Slight, ding it open. Lov. \opening the door~\ . Hold. Hold gentlemen, what meanes this violence ? 10 [Mammon, Surly, Kastril, Ananias, Tribulation, and Officers rush in.] Mam. Where is this colliar ? Sur. And my Captaine Face ? Mam. These day-owles. Sur. That are birding in mens purses. 356 tEt)t #lrt)Cmt0t [ActV. Mam. Madam Suppository. Kas. Doxey, my suster. Ananias. Locusts Of the foule pit. Tribulation. Profane as Bel, and the Dragon. Ana. Worse then the grasse-hoppers, or the lice of Egypt. 15 Lov. Good gentlemen, heare me. Are you officers, And cannot stay this violence ? Off. Keepe the peace. Lov. Gentlemen, what is the matter? Whom doe you seeke ? Mam. The chymicall cousoner. Sur. And the Captaine Pandar. Kas. The nun my suster. Mam. Madame Rabbi. Ana. Scorpions, 20 And caterpillars. Lov. Fewer at once, I pray you. Off. One after another, gentlemen, I charge you, By vertue of my staffe Ana. They are the vessels Of pride, lust, and the cart. Lov. Good zeale, lie still, A little while. 1 3 suster, F sister. 23 pride, lust, and the cart, Q__shame, and of dishonour. Scene V.] Qftt QMfytmitlt 357 Tri. Peace, Deacon Ananias. 2; Lov. The house is mine here, and the dores are open : If there be any such persons, as you seeke for, Use your authoritie, search on o' Gods name. I am but newly come to towne, and finding This tumult 'bout my dore (to tell you true) 30 It somewhat maz'd me ; till my man, here, (fearing My more displeasure) told me he had done Somewhat an insolent part, let out my house (Belike, presuming on my knowne aversion From any aire o' the towne, while there was sicknesse) 35 To a Doctor, and a Captaine : who, what they are, Or where they be, he knowes not. Mam. Are they gone ? Lov. You may goe in, and search, sir. tt t r 1 They enter. Here, 1 hnd J The emptie walls, worse then I left 'hem, smok'd, A few crack'd pots, and glasses, and a fornace, 40 The seeling fill'd with poesies of the candle : And madame, with a dildo, writ o' the walls. Onely, one gentlewoman, I met here, That is within, that said shee was a wid- dow 32 Fi and Q omit he. F2 gives it. 358 Wtyt #Ul)emi0t [Act V. Kas. I, that's my suster. I'll goe thumpe her. Where is shee ? [Goes in.~\ 45 Lov. And should ha' marryed a Spanish Count, but he, When he came to't, neglected her so grosly, That I, a widdower, am gone through with her. Sur. How ! Have I lost her then ? Lov. Were you the don, sir ? Good faith, now, shee do's blame yo' extremely, and sayes 5° You swore, and told her, you had tane the paines, To dye your beard, and umbre o'er your face, Borrowed a sute, and ruffe, all for her love ; And then did nothing. What an over-sight, And want of putting forward, sir, was this ! 55 Well fare an old hargubuzier, yet, Could prime his poulder, and give fire, and hit, All in a twinckling. Mammon comes Mam. The whole nest are fled ! f° rth - Lov. What sort of birds were they ? Mam. A kind of choughes, Or theevish dawes, sir, that have pickt my purse 60 Of eight-score, and ten pounds, within these five weekes, Beside my first materialls ; and my goods, Scene V.] Qfyt &\t\)tmi&t 359 That lye i' the cellar : which I am glad they ha' left, I may have home yet. Lov. Thinke you so, sir? Mam. I. Lov. By order of law, sir, but not other- wise. 65 Mam. Not mine owne stuffe ? Lov. Sir, I can take no knowledge, That they are yours, but by publique meanes. If you can bring certificate, that you were gull'd of 'hem. Or any formall writ, out of a court, That you did cosen your selfe, I will not hold them. 70 Mam. I'll rather loose 'hem. Lov. That you shall not, sir, By me, in troth. Upon these termes they 'are yours. What should they ha' beene, sir, turn'd into gold all ? Mam. No. I cannot tell. It may be they should. What then ? Lov. What a great losse in hope have you sustain'd ? 75 Mam. Not I, the common-wealth has. 63 ha' left, F puts a period after this. Q gives the comma. 360 tEtje Q\t\)tnii$t [act v. Fac. I, he would ha' built The citie new ; and made a ditch about it Of silver, should have runne with creame from Hogsden : That every Sunday in More-fields, the younk- ers, And tits, and tom-boyes should have fed on, gratis. 80 Mam. I will goe mount a turnep-cart, and preach The end o' the world, within these two months. Surly, What ! in a dreame ? Sur. Must I needs cheat my selfe, With that same foolish vice of honestie ! Come let us goe, and harken out the rogues. 85 That Face I'll marke for mine, if ere I meet him. Fac. If I can heare of him, sir, I'll bring you word, Unto your lodging : for in troth, they were strangers To me, I thought 'hem honest, as my selfe, sir. [ Exeunt Mainmort and Surly.~\ Tri. 'Tis well, the saints shall Thcy v Ananias and not loose all yet. Goe, Tribulation'] come And get some carts f orth - Lov. For what, my zealous friends ? Scene V] &ty &lrt)Cmt$t 3 61 Ana. To beare away the portion of the right- eous, Out of this den of theeves. Lov. What is that portion ? Ana. The goods, sometimes the orphanes, that the Brethren, Bought with their silver pence. Lov. What, those i' the cellar, 95 The knight Sir Mammon claimes ? Ana. I doe defie The wicked Mammon, so doe all the Breth- ren, Thou prophane man, I aske thee, with what conscience Thou canst advance that idol, against us, That have the seale ? Were not the shillings numbred, IO o That made the pounds ? Were not the pounds told out, Upon the second day of the fourth weeke, In the eighth month, upon the table dormant, The yeere, of the last patience of the Saints, Six hundred and ten ? Lov. Mine earnest vehement botcher, 105 And deacon also, I cannot dispute with you, But, if you get you not away the sooner, I shall confute you with a cudgell. 99 idol, Q Nemrod. 103 eighth, Yz. Eight, Fi and Q^_ 362 tElje 3\t\)tmi$t [act v. /Ina. Sir. Tri. Be patient, Ananias. Ana. I am strong, And will stand up, well girt, against an host, no That threaten Gad in exile. Lov. I shall send you To Amsterdam, to your cellar. Ana. I will pray there, Against thy house : may dogs defile thy walls, And waspes, and hornets breed beneath thy roofe, This seat of false-hood, and this cave of cos'n- age. \_Exeunt Ananias and Tribulation?^ n 5 Lov. Another tOO ? Drugger enters, Dru. Not I sir, I am no Brother, and he beau him Lov. Away you Harry Nicholas, doe you talke ? *Fac. No, this was Abel Drugger. Good sir, goe, * To the Parson. And satisfie him ; tell him, all is done : He stay'd too long a washing of his face. i 20 The Doctor, he shall heare of him at West- chester ; And of the Captayne, tell him, at Yarmouth : or Some good port-towne else, lying for a winde. '[Exit Parson.] If you can get off the angrie child, now, sir Scene V.] I&ty &U\)tmi8t 363 [Enter Kastril, dragging in his sister.~\ Kas. Come on, you yew, you have To his sister. match'd most sweetly, ha' you not ? Did not I say, I would never ha' you tupt But by a dub'd boy, to make you a lady-tom ? 'Slight, you are a mammet ! O, I could touse you, now. Death, raun' you marry with a poxe ? Lov. You lie, boy ; As sound as you : and I am afore-hand with you. 130 Kas. Anone ? Lov. Come, will you quarrell ? I will feize you, sirrah. Why doe you not buckle to your tooles ? Kas. Gods light ! This is a fine old boy, as ere I saw ! Lov. What, doe you change your copy, now ? Proceed, Here stands my dove : stoupe at her, if you dare. 135 Kas. 'Slight, I must love him ! I cannot choose, i-faith ! And I should be hang'd for't ! Suster, I pro- test, I honor thee, for this match. Lov. O, doe you so, sir ? 364 tElje #le|)emi0t [act v. Kas. Yes, and thou canst take tabacco, and drinke, old boy, I'll give her five hundred pound more, to her marriage, 140 Then her owne state. Lov. Fill a pipe-full, Jeremie. Fac. Yes, but goe in, and take it, sir. Lov. We will. I will be rul'd by thee in anything, Jeremie. Kas. 'Slight, thou art not hide-bound ! thou art a jovy boy ! Come, let's in, I pray thee, and take our whiffes. 145 Lov. Whiffe in with your sister, brother boy. [Exeunt Kastril and Dame Pliant. ,] That master That had receiv'd such happinesse by a servant, In such a widdow, and with so much wealth, Were very ungratefull, if he would not be A little indulgent to that servants wit, 15° And helpe his fortune, though with some small straine Of his owne candor. [Advancing.] Therefore, gentlemen, And kind spectators, if I have out-stript An old mans gravitie, or strict canon, thinke What a yong wife, and a good braine may doe : 155 Stretch ages truth sometimes, and crack it too. Speake for thy selfe, knave. 144 jovy, Fi jovy'. 145 Qjimits /. Scene V.] 1£\)C Q\t\)tmi$t 365 Fac. So I will, sir. \_Advancing to the front of the stage, ,] Gentlemen, My part a little fell in this last scene, Yet 'twas decorum. And though I am cleane Got off, from Subtle, Surly, Mammon, Dol, ioo Hot Ananias, Dapper, Drugger, all With whom I traded ; yet I put my selfe On you, that are my countrey : and this pelfe, Which I have got, if you doe quit me, rests To feast you often, and invite new ghests. 165 [Exeunt.] The End. This Comoedie was first acted, in the yeere 1610. By the Kings Maiesties Servants. The principall Comoedians were, RlC. BVRBADGE. IoH. HEMINGS. Ioh. Lowin. "| ( Will. Ostler. Hen. Condel. > < Ioh. Vnderwood. Alex. Cooke. ) V. Nic. Tooly. Rob. Armin. Will. Eglestone. With the allowance of the Master of Revells. F2 transfers the principall Comoedians, etc. , to the page imme- diately preceding that on which the Argument is printed, and omits the other matter. |j5oteg to €fte &lcf)ettii£t IV. denotes TVhalley ; G. Gifford; and C. Cunningham. Single •words ivill be found in the Glossary. It would be rash in the absence of clear evidence to affirm any given definite arrangement of scene for a drama of the time of Eliz- abeth or James. But it is impossible to believe that Ben Jonson, writing in the year preceding the retirement of Shakespeare, could have been at a loss to represent so simple a scene as a street before a house and the interior of that house on the stage at one and the same time, especially when we recall Jonson's experience of six or eight years in furnishing masques to the court, elaborate in their scenery and stage effects. The scene at the first performance of The Alchemist was doubtless so arranged that a partition representing the outer wall of a house divided the stage. This partition was pro- vided with a door and a window and separated the exterior from the interior of Lovewit's house. The greater part of the stage must have been taken up with the interior : for within Lovewit's house the greater part of the action takes place. But space was left in the part representing the street for the little crowd which congregates in the first scene of the last act. An inner room was indicated by the usual doors at the back of the stage. With some such device as this The Alchemist could have been acted from prologue to con- clusion in absolute unity of place ; and several of the situations in consequence heightened in their effect. 169. Mary La[dy] Wroth, the daughter of Robert, Earl of Leicester, a younger brother of Sir Philip Sidney. Jonson's Epi- gram 103 is addressed in terms of respectful praise to this Lady, who was the author of a romance entitled, in imitation of the title of the Arcadia, The Countesse of Mountgomeries Urania, 1 621. 169, 5. No lesse love the light, etc. No less love the light (of your virtue) and witness (bear witness to it) than they have the conscience (knowledge) of it. 368 jliotes 171. To the Reader. Jonson did not reprint this address of the quarto of 1 612 in the folio. Several of its passages will be found recast in Jonson's prose tract, Discoveries, 1 640. Cf. the present editor's edition of that book, 1892, pp. 22, 26 and else- where. 173, 11. Flat bawdry, with the stone. The stone was a crystal or mirror in which, supposedly, could be reflected the acts of persons at a distance. Its use by jealous husbands or wives to detect the wrong-doing of those suspected is here alluded to in baivdry. 174, 13. How e'er the age, etc. G. finds a parallel to this passage in the introduction to Livy's history. Act I. Scene I. In printing The Alchemist, Jonson named the characters on the stage at the beginning of each scene ; and then pursued the logical process which regards the entrance of a new personage or the departure of one already on the stage a suffi- cient reason for the indication of a new scene. The usual indica- tions of entrance and exit in such a system become practically un- necessary. In deference to modern usage, however, and especially where clearness demands, additional stage directions are given in brackets. All changes of scene — and they are wholly the work of the editors — have been relegated to the notes. The stage di- rections bracketed in Scene I were first added by Giffbrd. There seems no reason to retain his direction that Face enter " with his sword drawn." I 7S> '• [Face.] Jonson never repeats the name of the speaker at the beginning of a scene, as the first speaker is invariably the person whose name is first mentioned as present. 175, 3. Lick figs. Rabelais, iv. 45. 176, 16. Three-pound-thrum, probably, as C. explains, a worthless, underpaid servant, as the customary wage for a man ser- vant was four pounds a year. See Glossary under thrums. 177, 25. Pie-Comer. The Smithfield end of the present Giltspur St., in Jonson's day noted chiefly for cooks' shops and pigs dressed there during Bartholomew Fair. 177, 31. Artillerie-yard. Between the west side of Fins- bury Square and Bunhill Row. The line is probably a topical reference, for the yard was the drilling-place of the Honorable j^otes 369 Artillery successfully revived in 1610. Wealthy citizens, many country gentlemen, and even Prince Charles joined the ranks ; and the King gave the artillery his patronage. 177, 38. When all your alchemy could not relieve your body with so much linen as would make a fire you could see, even if you could not feel it. 178, 53. Sell the dole-beere. It was usual to distrib- ute, at the buttery-hatch of great houses, a daily or weekly dole of broken bread (chippings) and beer to the indigent of the neighbor- hood. G. 178, 55. Post and paire. A game at cards depending largely on the daring of the player in his " adventure on the vye," that is, his bidding on the excellence of his hand. Post is said to be derived from apostar, to place in the hands of a third person a sum of money for the winner. A pair, two cards of a kind, was one of the winning points. 179, 74. Quarrelling dimensions. Cf. note on the duello, below, p. 384. 179, 79. Flie out i' the projection, an equivalent, in alchemical jargon, to fail at the last moment, when success is at hand. (Thayer. ) I 79i 83- Equi clibanum, an oven in which heat is gen- erated by means indicated in the following words. 180, 93. In Paules. It was the custom of the time to post notices and advertisements on the pillars of St. Paul's Cathedral, then the chief place of common resort. 180, 94. Cosning with a hollow cole, the conversion of a piece of beach-coal into silver by means of a plug of that metal concealed at the ends with wax. Cf. Chaucer's Chanouns Temannes . Canterbury Talcs, G. 1 1 60. 180, 96. Erecting figures, delineating plans of the posi- tion of the planets tor the calculation of nativities. 180, 97. Taking in of shaddowes, with a glasse, a mode of divination by means of a globular crystal of beryl, com- monly about the size of a large orange, in which the speculatrix, who must be a virgin of pure life, beheld with second sight the figures of spirits, and heard and interpreted their responses to the in- quirer into the supernatural. W. 37° jpotes 1 80, 98. Told in red letters, conspicuously placarded like the rubric titles of the day. l3o, 99. Gamaliel Ratsey, a notorious highwayman, who, according to Gifford, robbed his victims in a mask of repulsive ugli- ness. See The Life and Death of Gamaliel Ratsey, and Ratseys Ghoaste, both dating 1605. Collier reprinted the first in Illustra- tions of Old English Literature, 1866, vol. III. The latter, in which Burbage and Shakespeare are referred to, is described by the same editor in his Bibliographical Account, etc., 1 866, III. 286. 181, 106. Lying too heavy o' the basket, i. e. eat- ing more than his share of the broken provisions collected and sent in for prisoners. G. 181, 112. The statute of sorcerie, passed in 1403, and providing that " None from henceforth shall use to multiply gold or silver, or use the craft of multiplication, and if any the same do, he shall incur the pain of felony." This statute was repealed in 1689 in the interest of the famous Robert Boyle, who wished to practise the art of alchemy in safety. R. Watson, Chemical Essays, ed. 1789, I. 24. C. 182, 128. Puritane, in Black-friers, will trust . . . for a feather. Blackfriars was noted as the residence of Puritans, and as the centre of the feather trade. 1 83, 139- Beginning of a terme, a fruitful season for sharpers, as the town was then full of strangers and countrymen, come up to London to attend the courts. 184, 165. Sin' the king came in. Seven years before, in 1603. 184, 167. To see me ride . . . eare-rent. To see me carted as a bawd ; and you, as a couple of rogues, lose your ears in the pillory. W. 185, 170-174. Don Provost . . . most worsted worship. Dol's facetious names for the hangman, one of whose perquisites was the suit of clothes in which the criminal was exe- cuted. The quibbles on creivell and ivorsted call for no comment. See Cotgra-ve under Pre-vost des marichaux. ^5, J 75- Claridiana, one of the incomparable heroines of that interminable romance of chivalry, The Mirrour of Princely jpoteg 371 Deedes and Knighthood, 1 579, continued to a nnith part by 1601. 185, 180. Giffbrd adds the stage direction, exit Dol, making her reenter at line 187. This is unnecessary if we conceive the stage so set as to represent Lovewit's house within and without. Dol peeps through a window from behind a curtain. 185, 188. Though we breake up (in) a fortnight. 186, 191. In Holbourne, at the Dagger, a disreput- able ordinary and gambling-house, especially frequented by clerks and apprentices. 187, 6. Lent my watch. An affectation of importance and fashion, as watches were dear and coveted by those who wished to be thought to frequent good company. See Marmion's The Anti- quary, 1641, I. I, ed. 1875, P- 2 °4- 188, 17. Reade's matter. One Simon Reade of South- wark had been cast in a suit of the College of Physicians, in 1602, for practising medicine without a licence. His second in- dictment, in 1608, was for the invocation of wicked spirits to find the name of one that had stolen money of one Matthews. Reade had been recently pardoned by King James. W., quoting Thomas Rymer, Fcedera, I 71 5, XVI. 666. 189, 46. Clim-o'-the-Cloughs, or Claribels. Clim was one of the associates of Robin Hood in the old ballads ; Claribel, a hero of romance. 190, 47. That looke as bigge . . . and flush. That show a tell-tale face when holding fi-ve-and-flfty, and flush, the highest counts at primero. 190, 56. Greeke Xenophon. The Quarto reads Testa- ment, which Dapper, as a lawyer's clerk, might be expected to carry about with him in his pocket for the administering of oaths. The change in the text is due to the passing of the statute 3 Jac. 21, 1606, which provided " that none should in any stage plav, show, maygame or pageant profanely use the name of God, Christ Jesus, the Holy Ghost, or Trinity, in pain of ^10, to be di- vided between the King and the prosecutor." 190, 61. Proud stagge. Face alludes to Subtle's broad velvet astrologer's cap, which he likens to the velvety antlers of a stag. 372 il^otrflf 193, i°9- Dead Holland, living Isaac. Two notori- ous alchemists of the time. W. From the context we might judge the reference as applying rather to two notorious gamesters. 194, 112. Put ... to a cloke, i. e, strip to a cloak, the last thing a gallant parted with at play ; because with his cloak he might conceal all his other losses. 195, 127. Borne with a caule, a prognostication of good fortune. I 9S> J 37- I-fac 'S no oath. A satire on the Puritan evasion of swearing by lightened asseverations. Cf. the modern Gosh for God, and the old by Cock' s ivounds. 197, 169. Hum . . . buz. Words used in incantation, of supposed cabalistic meaning. Cf. Selden, Table Talk,ed. 1892, p. 195. Act I. Scene III. Face goes out with Dapper; Subtle, following them, meets Drugger and a number of women, compre- hended under the words neighbours and mutes in The Persons of the Play, who have congregated about the door. 198, 5. Free of the Grocers, i. e. a member of the guild, no longer an apprentice under indenture. 109, 21. The description of Abel's shop which follows ap- plies to the better druggists and tobacconists' shops of the day. Barnaby Rich in The Honestie of the Age, 1614, complains of the money wasted on tobacco, and says that it was reported that more than seven thousand houses lived by the trade of tobacco-selling in London. Percy Society, XI. 39. 199, 31. Fire of juniper. See Psalm cxx. 3, 4. C. J 99) 3 2 - No gold-smith, *'. f. no usurer. Goldsmiths were the bankers of the day and often became mere money-lenders. The earliest London Directory, 1 677, contains an appended list of "all the goldsmiths that keep running cashes." C. 200, 36. Of the clothing, . . . call'd to the scar- let, i. e. this summer he will become an officer in the Grocers' Company and wear the company's livery, and next year become a sheriff, whose gown was scarlet. Cf. Golding's speedy advance- ment in Eastward Hoe, IV. 2, p. 97. 200, 48. Spots tOO, in his teeth, etc. Whalley found Jonson's authority for these details of the fortune-teller's art in jliotea 373 Girolamo Cardano's de Subtilitate lihrl XXL, published first circa I 550. 201, 63. Make me your dore. Cf. Abbott, Shake- spearian Grammar , § 220, for this use of the ethical dative. 201, 64. On the east-side . . . write Mathlai, etc. Cf. Heptameron or Magical Elements of Peter de Abano, translated by Robert Turner, 1655, p. 123, where all six of the " mercurial spirits " governing Wednesday are named, to be called from the two quarters indicated by Jonson : an interesting example of Jonson's scholarly accuracy. 202, 70. The rest, they '11 seeme to follow, i. e. deem it seemly to follow. C. Perhaps the dialect use of seem for think; cf. English Dialect Dictionary, J. Wright, 1902. 202, 72. A puppet, with a vice, a doll that moved by mechanism. 202, 79. Give a say, make a shrewd attempt at, etc. Cf. Poetaster, Apologetical Dialogue, ed. Cunningham's Gifford, II. 520. 20 3> 95- Crosse out my ill-dayes. In the old almanacs days, fortunate or unfortunate for buying and selling, were noted and distinguished. 205, 5. Thorough the trunke, i. e. through a tube which would distort the tone like a speaking-trumpet. 205, 14. The magisterium . . . the stone. See note below, on lapis philosophicus, p. 380. Act II. Scene I. Gifford places this scene, which he ex- tends through the act, in "an outer Room in Lovewit's House." This is unnecessary. Mammon and Surly enter the room just vacated by Subtle and Face. 207, 9. The hollow die, " your poised dye, That 's ballasted with quick silver or gold," The Ordinary, I. 3. Cf. Every Alan in His Humour, III. 6. 207, 16. Velvet entrailes, for a rude-spun cloke. "One thing I cannot forget," says Purchas, "that in prodigall excesse, the insides of our clokes are richer than the outsides." Microcosmus, 1 61 8, p. 268. 208, 33. " Lothbury," says Stow, "is possessed for the most part by founders, that cast candlesticks, chafing-dishes, spice- mortars and such-like copper or latten works. ' ' Survey of Lon- don, ed. 1754, I. 569. 374 j^otes 208, 36. Make them perfect Indies, transmute their tin into gold. 200, 39. Of Mercurie, etc. These old terms for metals are thus explained by Chaucer's Canon's Yeoman : — Sol gold is, and Luna silver, we threpe, Mars yren, Mercurie quik-silver we clepe, Saturnus leed, and Juppiter is tin, And Venus coper. Canterbury Tales, G. 826. 210, 62. Pickt-hatch, literally a half-door, the grating of which is armed with spikes. Here, as in The Merry Wi-ves, II. 2, a place of vile resort. 210, 64. Nature, naturiz'd. The Schoolmen distin- guished between Natura naturans, God the Creator ; and natura naturata, the universe created. 210, 69. Fright the plague. These extravagant praises of the power of the aurum potabile put into the mouth of Mammon are, none of them, mere inventions of the poet. One Dr. Francis Anthonie mentions the plague expressly as one of the diseases cured by him with this remedy, in his Medicina: chymica et -veri potabilh auri assertio, I 6 1 o. 210, 71. Players shall sing your praises. The law forbade theatrical performance when the death rate from the plague reached forty per week. 210, 73. So much, . . . shall. Note the omission of the relatival conjunction as, and see Shakespearian Grammar, \ 281. 210, 75. His, the genitive of it. Jonson uses the then new form, its, and the provincial form it (genitive) as well as his. See ibid., \ 228. 210, 76. He that built the water-worke. The wa- ter-work of Bevis Bulmer constructed in 1595 to convey water of the Thames to the middle and western parts of the city, See Stew, ed. 1754, I. 27. 211, 81. Moses, and his sister, and Salomon. "Fabricius, in his valuable account of ancient books, has given a collection of the writers on chemistry." Upton. In this collec- tion Moses, Miriam, his sister, and Solomon are cited. So like- J*OtC0 375 wise is Adam. Solomon was believed to have been possessed of the philosopher's stone. See Ashmole, Tbeatrum Cbemicum Britanni- cum, 1652, p. 350. 211, 84. Did Adam write, sir, in high-Dutch? "Joannes Goropius Becanus, a man very learned . . . fell theirby into such a conceyt, that he letted not to maintaine it [the Teutonic tongue] to bee the first and most ancient language in the world ; yea, the same that Adam spake in Paradise." Rich- ard Verstegan, alias Rowlands, Restitution of Decayed Intelligence in Antiquities concerning the English Nation, 1 605, p. 190. G. 211, 88. Irish wood, 'gainst cob-webs, a superstition that ' ' no spiders, or any sort of nauseous or offensive insects will ever breed or hang about it." Ward, The London Spy, Pt. VIII. p. 190. C. Irish iuoo d is doubtless bog-oak. 211, 89. Jasons fleece. This rationalistic explanation of the old myth is found in Suidas, Lexicon (tenth century), s. -v. 212, 99. Th' alembeke. Not, as now, the entire distil- ling apparatus, but only the head in which the distilled matter was contained. W. Act II. Scene II. The action is continuous, Mammon speaking on from the last scene. 212, 2-5. Red, . . . crimson . . . projection. Red was the last color reached before projection, the twelfth and last process. It was also called the sanguis agni, as below, line 29. Cf. Norton, Ordinall of Alchemic, in Ashmole, as above, p. 90. 213, 8. Give lords th' affront, i. e. meet, and look them in the face ; cut them. 2^3) 2 3- Beech. Alchemists used only coal made of beech wood. 214, 26. Pale citron, . . . plumed swan. "These are terms of art," says Whalley, "made use of by adepts in the hermetic science, to express the several effects arising from the different degrees of fermentation." There is a treatise called Tie Hunting of the Greene Lyon, by Andrews, reprinted by Ashmole, p. 278. 214, 29. At 's praiers. See 11. 101-104 of this scene, and note on Homo frugi , 1. 97. 215, 42. Oval roome. Cf. Suetonius, Tiberius, c. 43. 37 6 ^tffi 2I S> 45- My glasses. Cf. Seneca, Naturalium Qucs- tionum Liber Primus, Cap. xvi. 215, 58. They will doe it best. Cf. Juvenal, Satire X. 3°S- „ . 215, 60. The pure(tf), and gravest. A familiar Elizabethan idiom. Cf. Measure for Measure, IV. 6. 13. 216, 75. Tongues of carpes. "The tongues of carps," says Walton, "are noted to be choice and costly meat, especially to them that buy them." The Complete Angler, Part I. chap. IV. 216, 77. ApicillS diet. Upton has traced many of the delicacies of Mammon's imagination to Lampridius, in his Vita Heliogabali. 217, 87. Go forth, and be a knight. One of the innumerable satirical allusions of the day to the carpet knights of King James. Two hundred and thirty-seven were knighted in a month early in 1603. 217, 97. Homo frugi. "The true hermetic philoso- phers," says Whalley, "were extremely devout, and given to prayer." See Ashmole, p. 1 1 7. The pretenders made much of this feature. Act II. Scene III. Subtle enters in his alchemist's gown, raising the curtain which discloses the room containing the furnace within, whither Face has withdrawn to watch the alleged ' ' pro- jection," now all but complete. 219, 30. The triple soule, the glorified spirit. Cf. Norton's Ordinall, Ashmole, Theatrum Chcmicum, p. 81 : — By meanes of a treble spirit, The soule of man is to his body knit, Of which three spirits one is called vitall, The second is called the spirit naturall, The third spirit is spirit animall. 219, 32. Ulen Spiegel, the hero of a German jest book, by some identified with a notorious rogue who lived in Saxony about 1480. The earliest English translation of this book was that published by Copland about 1528, "a merye Jest of a man that was called Howleglas." Jonson's use of the old German form of #ote0 377 the word, which he prints in the folio in black letter, points to an acquaintance with the German version. 219,35-66. Aludels, bolts-head, gripes egge. See the Glossary. ' ' And because the practisers heereof would be thought wise and learned, cunning, and their crafts maisters, they have de- vised words of art, ( which are also compounded of strange and rare simples) as confound the capacities of them that are either set on work heerein, or be brought to behold or expect their conclusions." R. Scot, Disccrverie of Witchcraft, 1 5 84, ed. Nicholson, p. 294. 220, 44. The philosophers wheele concerned the tak- ing of the elements in " rotacyon " so that the substance became successively water, earth, air, and fire. Ripley, Compound of Alchy- mie, Ashmole, 133. These terms convey to Mammon favorable signs of the progress of the work. 220, 46. Sulphur o' nature is formed by the interaction of the central fire and the mercurial vapor. Works of Paracelsus, trans., Waite, I. 297 ; see also Ripley, in Ashmole, p. 126. 220, 49. I shall employ it all, in pious uses. Nor- ton tells of a " lewd monk " that planned the founding of fifteen abbeys with the stone that the philosopher was to discover for him. Ashmole, p. 24. 221, 61. S. Maries bath, balneum Maria, a distillatory furnace. Howell, Lexicon Tetraglotton, ed. 1660. 221, 62. Lac virginis. See Norton's Ordinal/, chap. 5, Ashmole, 77, from which it appears that " water of litharge " mixed with " water of azot makes lac -virginis" 221, 67. The ground black ; and see below (line 77), his white shirt on. Color was one of the four signs in alchemy. White and black were regarded as "colors contrary in moste ex- tremitie." Norton, p. 56. Red was the color between black and white, and the last work of the philosopher ; although white had its virtues. Cf. ibid. p. 87. 222, 71. The hay is a pitching. To pitch a hay is to stretch a net before rabbits' burrows. 222, 79. Hermes seale, made by heating the neck of the vessel and then twisting it. 222, 80. Ferret. Face, from working the furnace, has red eyes like a ferret, the chief enemy of the coney or rabbit. 378 j^otes; 222, 83. His white shirt on. See above, line 68. 223, 88. Bolted, at length driven out by the ferret. Surly is still dwelling on his figure of the rabbit-hay. 224, 103. In balneo vaporoso, in a vapor bath. 225, 128. Egges, in Egypt. Cf. Sandys Travailes, ed. 1658, p. 95, for an interesting account of artificial incubation in Cairo, too long to quote here. 227, 172. Art can beget bees. This doctrine of equivocal generation was one of the strongest arguments in favor of alchemy. Gifford refers the student to the Tbeutrum Chemicum for the sources of this speech of Subtle's, as well as Surly' s rejoinder below. See especially Ashmole' s note, p. 445 of that work. 228, 187. Oil of height, highly refined oil. 228, 188. Your marchesite, etc. These terms may be found by the curious in Norton's Ordinall and Ripley's Com- pound of Alchemic See especially Ashmole, pp. 41, 43, 77, and 135- 228, 192. Your red man, and your white woman, a constant alchemical figure to express the affinity and interaction of chemicals. Cf. Norton, in Ashmole, p. 90 : — Candida tunc rubeo jacet uxor nupta marito, That is to saie, if ye take heede thereto, Then is the faire white woman Married to the ruddy man. This conjunction is called by Bloomfield, in his Blossoms, " dipta- tive." Ibid., p. 320. 229, 208. SisiphuS. Authorities differ as to which of his many crimes entailed on Sisyphus his dreadful punishment, hence the humor of Mammon's remark. 230, 223. I warrant thee, I'll be thy warrant, protect thee from thy master's anger. 231, 230. An excellent Paracelsian. Paracelsus, the notorious German alchemist, died in 1541. 231, 235. This, i. e. Surly, must not heare. 2 3 I > 2 3 8 - Braughtons workes. Hugh Broughton was a writer on the Old Testament and Hebrew antiquities. The allusion must have made a hit in its day, as Broughton's obscurity as a writer il*OtC0 379 and extravagant opinion of his own importance were notorious. Broughton died in 1612. 235, 297. But, by attorney, and to a second pur- pose. Surly has already determined upon a disguise to sound the nature of the place. 237, II. Well Said, sanguine. As this word San- guine is italicised and capitalized in both early editions, it may possibly be intended for a proper name, and equal reddy, the boy that took the part of Dol wearing a red wig, appropriate to an Irish costermonger's daughter. 239, 1. Take away the recipient. These and the fol- lowing words are addressed to Face, the cringing " drudge," in tones of severe authority, to impress Ananias. 239, 4. Terra damnata, grounds or refuse, condemned as impure for alchemical purposes. 239, 6. A faithfull brother. So the Puritans called each other. Subtle intentionally misunderstands Ananias to say that he, too, is an alchemist. 2 39. 7- A Lullianist ? a Ripley ! Raymund Lully was a famous Spanish philosopher who flourished in the latter half of the thirteenth century ; George Ripley, an adept in alchemy, wrote a poem called The Compound of Alchemie, dedicated to King Edward IV. and reprinted by Ashmole in his Theatrum Chemicum Britannicum, 1 652. FiliuS artis is a son of the art of al- chemy, an adept. 2 39» 9- Sapor pontick, sapor stiptick. Giffbrd, quot- ing Norton, Ordinal/ of Alchemic, Ashmole, p. 74, says, " 'there be nyne sapors, ' all of which he adds, ' maie bee learnde in halfe an houre. ' So is the sowerish fast called sapor pontic, And lesse sower allso called sapor stiptic' " 240, 15. Heathen Greeke, I take it. The Puritans took the Old Testament for their guide. The scorn of Ananias for Greek is not improbably due to popular ignorance among the Puri- tans that any part of the scriptures was written in that tongue. 240, 19. The vexations, and the martyrizations. The curious reader will find the more important of these words of 380 jjiotesi alchemical jargon in the Glossary. Jonson's use of them is accu- rate as is Jonson's scholarship everywhere. 240, 27. The trine circle of the seven spheres. In astrology a trine circle was one of 120 degrees or the third of the zodiac. The trine was a benignant aspect. The copy of Ashmole's Theatrum Cbemicum, 1652, the property of the Phila- delphia Library, contains an ancient diagram drawn in ink entitled " ye Figure containing all the secrets of ye treatise both great and small." In this the successive processes in the discovery of the philosopher's stone are represented in a series of spheres, each contained within the other, and working outward from the center which contains the four elements, through the " sphara colorum principalium, the sphara Mercurii, Veneris and Lunae, to the sphara So/is, or sphere of gold. Doubtless the seven spheres have reference to the seven alchemical metals. The connection of the trine circle does not appear in this diagram. 240, 28. Passion of metalls, the susceptibility of metals to impression from external agents. 240, 29. Ultimum supplicium auri. Literally, the last punishment of gold. In the various alchemical processes, calci- nation, sublimation, separation, etc., the substances are frequently spoken of as destroyed, macerated, or killed, hence the idea of the punishment of the prima materia or original matter of metals to relieve it of its crudities till the residuum become pure gold. Cf. line 19, above. 241, 35. Magisterium. Cf. the following note and the Glossary under this word. 241, 39. Lapis philosophicus. Philosopher's stone. According to Ashmole, Prolegomena to his edition of the Tbeatrum Cbemicum, it appears that there were no less than four kinds of al- chemical stones. The mineral stone, which had " the power of transmuting any imperfect earthy matter into its utmost degree of perfection ; " the vegetable stone, by means of which the natures of men and beasts may be known ; third, the magical or perspective stone, by the aid of which it is " possible to discover any person in what part of the world soever, although never so secretly concealed and hid." And lastly the angelical stone, which is " so subtile . . . that it can neither be seen, felt or weighed, but only tasted." j£OtC0 381 This stone affords the apparition of angels, and gives power of con- versing with them. It will be seen that the text is a ridicule of the pretensions of the alchemists as to this last variety of the lapis pbilosopbicus. 243, 80. Sericon, and bufo. Black tincture and red. "These terms are adopted to confound and terrify the simple deacon." G. But see the Ordinall, Ashmole, p. 56. 244, 2. What Baiards ha' wee here. Bayard, the type cf chivalry and soldierly bearing, in allusion to Face's uniform and Drugger's "smart" bearing. 245, 20. Whose name is Dee. Dr. John Dee, of Mort- lake, appears to have been more a mathematician and astrologer than an alchemist, although his association with Sir Edward Kelley seems to point to an interest in alchemy. Dee was held in high regard by many eminent men of his time, among them Sir Francis Wal- singham. He was consulted as to an auspicious day for the corona- tion of Queen Elizabeth, and received not a few favors at her hands. The reference of the text is to Dee clad in his astrological gown of rug, in which guise he appears on the title-page of one of his works. See the account of Dee by Ashmole, pp. 478 ff, and his Diary , re- printed by the Camden Society, 1842. 245, 22. A dog snarling er. " R," says Jonson in his English Grammar, folio 1640, p. 47, "is the Dogs Letter, and hurreth in the sound." 245, 24. Here *s now mysterie, and hierogly- phick. An excellent take-off of popular superstitions, by no means confined to Jonson's age and country. Many of the signs of the day were made up of anagrams and rebuses. See on the general subject, Camden's Remaines concerning Britaine, ed. 1 870, p. 182. 245, 26. Sixe o' thy legs more, six more bows is not more than a sufficient courtesy for the Doctor's care and ingenu- ity in devising such a sign. 248, 61. To learne to quarrell. Cf. duello, p. 384. 249, 91. Want graines, be wanting in weight, be a light woman. The grain or smallest possible weight is here contrasted with the "whole in the succeeding line. Act III. Scene I. Gifford places this scene in "the Lane before Lovewit's House." It takes place before Lovewit's door, 382 $L0tC8 which, with the one scene of the whole play arranged as explained above, is obvious and simple and maintains unity of place. Act III. Scene II. A Room in Lovewii' s House. G. 253) 3- Furnus acedise, si-ve incuria, is an oven of neg- lect or lack of care, /'. e. an oven which requires little labor to keep hot. Turris circulatorius is a glass vessel in which liquid poured in ascends and descends with a rotary motion and is thus thoroughly mixed. 2 55> 3°- Oyle of talek, /. e. of talc. " It maketh," says Fuller, "a curious white-wash, which some justify lawful, because clearing, not changing, complexion." Worthies of England, ed. 1840, III. 239. , 2 55> 43- Christ-tide, I pray you, a Puritan substitu- tion to avoid the Popish word mass. 256, 55- Suck up your ha, and hum, in a tune, in allusion probably to the unlearned and unprofessional singing of Puritan congregations. 256, 61. Bells are prophane. Ananias has failed to understand anything that Subtle is saying ; but to show his zeal catches at the word bell. 2 57> 79- Whether a Christian may hawke, etc. The Puritans much affected scruples all but equally trivial with those of the text. 257, 82. That idoll, starch, about their linnen. "They have great and monsterous ruffes, made either of cam- brick, holland, lawn, or els of some other the finest cloth that can be got for money, whereof some be a quarter of a yard deep. . . . The devil, as in the fulness of his malice first invented these great ruffes, so hath hee now found out also two great stayes to beare up and maintaine that his kingdome of great ruffes . . . the one arch ... is a certaine kinde of liquid matter which they call Starch, wherin the devill hath willed them to wash and dive his ruffes wel, which when they be dry wil then stand stiffe and inflexible about their necks." Stubbs, Anatomie of Abuses, 1583, New Shakspere Society'' s Publications, 1877-79, p. 51. Starch s cms first to have been introduced into England for this purpose by a Hutch woman in I 564. It fell into disrepute after the execution of the notorious Mrs. Turner — an accomplice in the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury — in a ruff, stiff with a yellow starch of her own invention. 257, 87. And shorten so your eares, by incurring the penalty of having them lopped as a punishment for libel. 258, 89. Raile against playes, to please the alder- man, in allusion to the long-standing quarrel between the players and the Puritan city fathers. 2 58, 95- The whole family, or wood of you. Jonson is fond of this use of the word wood to express the material in an unformed state out of which anything may be made. Cf. his Pre- face to the Reader, U'iderivoods, and the Latin note preceding his Discoveries. 258, 102. O, but the stone, all's idle to it! no- thing (is equal to it) ! Neither the art of angels, etc. 260, 138-139. Ignis ardens, a hot fire, is contrasted with the " lenter (or slower) heats" of line 140. With fimus equinus, horse dung, cf. ejui clibanum, Act I. Scene II. 83, above. Balnei, baths, cineris, ashes, all are earlier stages in the search for the philosopher's stone. 261, 150. We know no magistrate, "the [extreme] Puritans rejected all human forms of government as carnal ordi- nances ; and were for establishing a plan of policy, in which the scripture only was to be the civil code." W. 261, Exeunt Tribulation and Ananias at the door leading to the inner room where are Subtle' s furnace and his ma- terials. Face enters at the front door, as from the street. Act III. Scene III. Not recognized by Gifford. 262, 8. Black boy, rascal, scoundrel. Cf. Every Man in His Humour, I. I : " O, he's a black fellow j " and Horace, Sa- tires II. 4. 85. 263, 18. Our cinque-port, the English strongholds on the southern coast against France, at this time, Dover, Sandwich, Rom- ney, Hastings, and Hithe. 263, 24. John Leydens. Leyden was a famous Anabaptist leader, put to death in 1536. 258, 12. As he likes, when he pleases. 269, 22. Take tabacco. The taking or "drinking" of tobacco, as it was often called, was an essential accomplishment 384 jftotcs of the gentlemen of the day. Dekker, discoursing of the ways of the gallant, says : " And heere you must observe to know in what state tobacco is in towne, better then the merchants, and to dis- course of the apottecaries where it is to be sold, . . . then let him shew his severall tricks in taking it, as the nhiffe, the ring, etc." The Guls Horne-booke, Elizabethan Pamphlets, 1 892, p. 252. 269, 25. The duello. This passage at once suggests Touchstone's delightful words beginning, "O sir, we quarrel in print, by the booke." There seem to have been several treatises of this kind well known to the Elizabethans. Theobald mentions Lewis de Caranza's Treatise of Fencing, Vincentio Saviola's Prac- tise of the Rapier and Dagger, and Giacomo di Grassi's Art of Defense. Even nearer to the absurdity of this passage and the foolery of Touchstone must have been The Books of Honor and Armes, ivherein is discoursed the Causes of Quarrel!, and the nature of Injuries, with their Repulses, etc., 1590. See the note on As You Like It, 97 : v. 4, 92, The Neiv Variorum Shakespeare, p. 274. 269, 39. But never in diameter, i. e. " the lie direct." 272, 90. Commoditie. Cf. Eastward Hoe, II. 2, and the note thereon, p. 151. 2 73> JI 3- Had ... to Supper. See Shakespearian Grammar, § 189. 274, 132. I goe. As Kastril says this, Face civilly attends him to the door 5 and, turning back, nudges Drugger, who is fol- lowing, with the words : " She 's thine ; " calling after him, as he in turn goes out, " the damaske ! " Then, as Face crosses the stage to Dapper, he remarks to himself, "Subtle and I must wrastle for her ; " and finally calls to Dapper, " Come on." 275, 145. Twentie nobles at six shillings and eight- pence each, amount to the sum of six pounds thirteen shillings and fourpence, which sum the other pieces make. The Harry sov- ereign was a half sovereign only, and valued at ten shillings. Face wanted the other noble in Maries, because the money was coined in the several successive reigns of Henry, Edward, Elizabeth, and James ; so that Mary's being left out made a chasm in the account. W. Act III. Scene V. The action of this scene is somewhat jliotcsf 385 thus : Dol plays the cittern, while Face and Subtle, speaking now as fairies, now in explanation of the fairies' words, pinch the blind- folded Dapper. From time to time Dol "scouts" at the window. As Face returns Dapper his "leaden heart," Dol attracts the former's attention and reports the approach of Mammon. Dol then fetches Face his suit as Lungs and helps him on with it, while he is speaking through the key-hole to Mammon ; and mean- time Subtle continues the deception of Dapper, whom he leads off to his ' ' place of durance vile, ' ' as Dol runs away to dress as the mad Lady. Act IV. Scene I. A Room in Loveivit's House. G. 283, 14. How scrupulous he is. Cf. Norton, in his Ordinall of Alchemie, Ashmole, p. 94: — While thei worke thei must needes eschewe, All ribaudry, els thei shal finde this trewe, That such mishap shall them befall, Thei shal destroy part of their works or all. 283, 23. Moderne happinesse, "a sort of happiness on a small scale." C. More probably modern in the Shakespearian sense, trite, common. 284, 35. My lip to you, sir. It was the custom even for modest women to offer their lips to be kissed as a recognition of equality. There are many allusions to this custom in its use and abuse in the literature of the time. See especially Marston's Dutch Curtezan, III. 1, ed. 1856, II. 144. 285, 56. One o' the Austriack princes. The princes of the house of Hapsburg were noted for "a sweet fulness of the lower lip," otherwise described as a heavy, protruding under jaw and thick, hanging under lip. The Valois nose was arched and Roman. 287, 84. And distillation, astrology and chemistry. 287, 90. Edward Kelley, or Talbot, a notable alche- mist of the sixteenth century, who pretended to have discovered the philosopher's stone. He was patronized by the Emperor, Ru- dolph II., at Prague. His impostures becoming known, he was imprisoned and lost his life in attempting to escape. Kelley was associated at one time with Dr. Dee, mentioned above, and one 386 ii^otesf Zaski, a young Pole. Giffbrd surmises that this trio afforded Jon- son the suggestion for his trio, Subtle, Face, and Dol. See Kelley's Works, translated from the Hamburg edition of 1676 into English, London, 1893. 289, 122. Master of the maistrie, i. e. of the magis- terium, as the great work of discovering the philosopher's stone was called when brought to perfection. 289, 131. This nooke, here, of the Friers. Lovewit's house was situated in the precinct of Blackfriars. 2 9°» x 53- In a loth'd prison. Counterfeiters were com- monly punished by being made to labor at their art in prison for the king. Cf. Note on In the Toiver, p. 389. Act IV. Scene II. Giffbrd does not recognize this division. At the beginning of this scene, Kastril and his sister enter and eye the door ; Subtle sees them from the window and sends Face to the door to let them in. 292, 6. O, for a suite, i. e. his captain's suit for which he is compelled to go out, while Subtle receives the lady. 294, 43. In rivo front is. Giffbrd refers us to Girolamo Cardano's Metoposcopia, a treatise on chiromancy first published about 1570, for these terms of art, remarking : " The variety and extent of Jonson's reading are altogether surprising ; nothing seems to have been too poor and trifling, too recondite and profound, for his insatiable curiosity and thirst for knowledge." 2 95> 53- Kusse her. Cf. this form of the word kiss with Kastril's pronunciation suster. 2 95> 55- I, peace. I heard it. Kastril draws Dame Pli- ant aside, and Face, who has peeped out at the window as he came in and seen the disguised Surly coming, now takes up the dialogue with Subtle. Act IV. Scene III. Scene I. continued by Giffbrd. 298, 20. Don Jon ! " It appears from Cynthia s Re-vels, IV., 1, that the 'battle of Lepanto ' formed the subject of tap- estry-work in Jonson's time ; and we may be pretty confident that Don John of Austria, the fortunate hero of the day, was pourtrayed in it with features of the most formidable grandeur. To some star- ing representation of this kind, Subtle probably alludes." G. 298, 21. Sennores, etc., the usual Spanish salutation, j^otes 3 8 7 Gentlemen, I kiss your hands. The folio prints nn for n (n con tilde) everywhere. 298, 27. Beneath the souse, and wriggled with a knife. Ornamented with slashes of the butcher's knife under the ear. 299, 30. Don, your scirvy, yellow, Madrid face is 'welcome. The humor of this scene consists, of course, in tlie mock gravity and ceremonial courtesy with which Face and Subtle utter words so foreign to their actions. There is, besides, the pervading irony of the situation, as Surly really understands them. 2 99> 33- Deep sets, i. e. the deep plaits of his ruff. The enormous ruffs of the Spaniards and the mischief that was alleged to lie concealed in them is a common pleasantry of the drama- tists. 299, 34. Por dios, etc. Gad, sirs, a very pretty house. 299, 40. Entiendo. / understand. 300, 47. Con licencia, etc. If you please, may I see this lady. 301, 61. Entiendo que la sennora, etc. / hear the lady is so handsome that I am anxious to see her as the most fortu- nate circumstance of my life. 302, 78. Sennores, porque, etc. Gentlemen, -why this long delay ! 302, 80. Puede ser, etc. Perhaps you are making sport of my love. 302, 91. Por estas honradas barbas. By this honored beard. 3°3> 9 2 - TengO duda, etc. I fear, gentlemen, that you are about to play me some foul trick. Gifford refers to the Poenulus of Plautus, as probably suggesting to Jonson this scene. Act IV. Scene IV. "Scene II. Another Room in the same. ' ' G. 304, 9. Your Spanish Stoupe, evidently, as C. ex- plains, a stoop or mode of carrying the body. Garbe below is, then, as commonly in Jonson, mode, fashion. Cf. Sejanus, I. I.: Cor. Here comes Sejanus. 5/7. Now observe the stoops, The bendings and the falls. 388 J>Ote0 305, 29. Never sin' eighty-eight could I abide 'hem, i. e. since the year of the Armada. Dame Pliant is a true-born Englishwoman. G. 305, 33. Crie straw-berries, sink in station and poverty to a market woman. 306, 47. Th' Exchange, Bet'lem, the China- houses. Places of common resort, the first from the shops which it contained. Bet'lem, the madhouse in St. George Fields, was frequently visited by parties of ladies and gentlemen " to see what Greeks are within." China-house was evidently a shop for the sale of East Indian wares. In later times a china house became equivalent to a place of assignation. 3°7> 53* Que es esto, etc. Hoiv is this? She doesn't come, sirs ? this delay kills me. 307, 56. En gallanta, etc. Gibberish of Face's. 3°7> SI- Por todos, etc. By all the gods, the most perfect beauty I ever saiv. 307, 62. Court-liest language. This rude pun was not lost on the provincial tongue of Kastril. 307, 63. El SOl, etc. The sun has lost its light "with the splendor which this lady brings. 308, 69. Por que no Se acude. Why don t you dratu near ? 308, 71. Por el amor, etc. For the lo-ve of God, why this delay ? 308, 76. Sennora mia, etc. Madam, I am -very un- worthy to approach such beauty. 309, 80. Sennora, si sera, etc Madam, at your ser- vice, let us enter. " I have corrected the language," says Gifford, "which Whalley appears not to have understood, and which Jonson, or his printer, had in more than one place confounded." I find that, save for the separation of a word or two and the suppression of the accents, Gifford has made but one change in the Spanish of these passages, the use of n (» con tilde) for the double nn of the text. 309, 83. Give Dol the word, to begin her counterfeit raving of the next scene. 309, 92. Erection of her figure. To erect one's figure #otes 389 was to make his horoscope, that is, determine the positions of the stars at his birth and tell his fortune thereby. Act IV. Scene V. " Scene III, Another Room in the same." G. 312, 36. Out of Broughton ! "Literally out of his Concent of Scripture, [1590.] " G. Act IV. Scene VI. "Scene IV, Another Room in the Same." G. 319, 20. Donzell, me thinkes you look melan- cholike. Subtle is alluding ironically to Surly as Donzello del Phebo, a hero of the Mirror for Knighthood. C. 319, 23. Upsee Dutch, op zijn Dutch, in the Dutch fashion. Cf. upsee Freese, in the Frisian manner. Act IV. Scene VII. Not recognized as a separate scene by GifFord. The action of this scene requires that Face keep close to Kastril, egging him on with his promptings, "a very errant rogue," "the impudent'st raskall," spoken so that Surly cannot clearly make out what he is saying. When Surly says, "Lady, doe you informe your brother," Dame Pliant crosses the stage to Kastril and tells him, in dumb show, what she has heard from Surly. Face continues his promptings to Kastril, casting an aside, " beare up," to Subtle, who is crestfallen after his rough handling by Surly and still in his grasp. Kastril then takes up the dialogue, answering his sister, " Away, you talk like a foolish mauther ; " and as Kastril is again about to take up the quarrel, Abel enters. 325, 63. Prevented us, anticipated us. 326, 71. Subtle hath whisperd with him, /'. t. with Ananias, while Face was arranging matters with Drugger. 326, 71. Hieronymo's old cloake. Hieronymo was the hero of Kyd's Spanish Tragedy, the most popular play of its day, about the time of the Armada. It was much ridiculed by later dra- matists. Cf. several mentions in Eastward Hoe. 326, 81. In the Tower ... to make gold there for the State. The mint was situated from very earlv times in the Tower ; Stow, as above, I. 101. Ashmole relates that the al- chemist Lully made gold there for King Edward III. by means of the philosopher's stone. Lully was certainly a prisoner in the Tower for a time. Theatrum Chemicum, pp. 443, 467. 390 jliotea 329, 116. While there dyed one a weeke, within the liberties, i. e. while one person per week died of the plague. The liberties were the outlying districts of the city beyond the walls. Act V. Scene I. Gifford adds " Before Lovewit's door," as the scene. According to the single setting of the scene, already suggested, no change is necessary. 331, 6. Another Pimlico, a resort near Hogsden, "noted for its cakes and ale," says Whalley. C. mentions a pamphlet called Pimlyco or Runn Red Cap, 'tis a mad ivorld at Hogsdon, 1609. 332,11. Teaching i' the nose. Perhaps ventriloquism. 332, 14. Puppets. Puppet plays, variously called, motions, or drolleries, were very common from the earliest times. In Jonson's Bartholomew Fair (Act V. ) a puppet-booth is represented on the stage and a play is acted. Act V. Scene II. Gifford makes no. division here. 334, 3. Yet farder, you are too neere, yet. Face is anxious to draw his master from the door, that he may not hear anything of what may be passing within. 335) ao - Eye-bright Gifford conjectures to be the name of " a sort of malt liquor ; " here it seems more probably a locality, perhaps an ale-house, noted as a place of resort. 337, 46. How shall I beat them off, etc. Cf. Plautus, Mostellaria, III. I. 1 0-14. When Face tells his master that the house is infected, Lovewit draws back from the door, the neighbors standing back with him. Face withdraws to the other side as Surly and Mammon, Kastril, and the Puritans come in successively, each too intent for the moment to notice the little gathered crowd. Act V. Scene III. Gifford continues Scene I. 339, 22. What signe was't at ? In old London, shops, and even private houses, were distinguished by pictured signs, owing to the general illiteracy of the lower classes. 341, 50. Punque, device, a blunder of Kastril's for point de -vise (cf. Twelfth Night, II. 5. 175), a shortened form of at point de-vice, equivalent to exactly, precisely, and derived from the Old French a point de-vis. 341, 55. S. Kather'nes, a royal hospital near the Tower. Cf. Notes to East-ward Hoe, above, p. 1 54. Act V. Scene IV. In Gifford, "Scene II, A room in the same." 345, 7. Enter Face. Gifford adds "in his uniform," an unnecessary suggestion, as Face has no one to deceive now save Dapper, and Dapper is blindfold while Face is on the stage. 347, 36. Let it suck but once a weeke. It was a popular superstition that familiar spirits were thus nourished by those who had raised them. Cf. Dekker, The Witch of Edmon- ton, II. 1. 347, 41. The Wool-sack and the Dagger were ordina- ries, or eating-houses, of low repute frequently alluded to for their coarse food. Cf. the Dagger pie in Satiro-AIastix. Heaven and Hell were two mean ale-houses, according to Whalley, abutting on Westminster Hall and still standing in his day. 347, 44. Mum-chance, tray-trip, God make you rich, low gambling games ; gleeke and primero being games of the same class indulged in by those in better station and for higher stakes. 349, 76. Ratcliffe, a place in the parish of Stepney, the re- sort of sailors and shipwrights. 350, 89. The [Three~\ Pigeons, an inn at Brentford, sub- sequently kept by John Lowin, the noted actor. 352, 116. VVard, a notorious pirate. Robert Daborne wrote a play on his exploits called The Christian turned Turk, or the Li-ves of Ward and Dansiker, 1 612. 353, 128. You looke, you are surprised. 353. I2 9- I Sent for him, a characteristic lie. Act V. Scene V. " An outer Room in the Same." G. 355> 5- Three for fayling, for fear of failing, a common Elizabethan idiom. 356, 24. The [hangman s] cart, at the tail of which petty malefactors were whipped. 362, 117. Harry Nicholas, a fanatic of Leyden, the supposed founder of the notorious sect, " The Family of Love ; " perhaps here no more than a general term of abuse. Kblfograp^t The place of publication is London unless otherwise indicated. I. TEXTS. This list includes separate editions, adaptations, the issues in col- lective editions of Jonson, and ivith the plays of other dramatists. A. EASTWARD HOE. 1605, 4°- Eastward Hoe, made by George Chapman, Ben Jonson and John Marston ... for William Aspley. (See note, p. 167, on the issues of this quarto.) 1685? 4 C - Cuckolds' Haven, or an Alderman no Conjurer, a farce (in three acts in prose, altered from Eastward Hoe) by Nahum Tate. 1744, iamo. Eastward Hoe. Dodsley, A Select Collection of Old Plays, vol. IV. IJK2, 4 . Eastward Hoe, or the Prentices, an altered ver- sion. 1756, i2mo. Eastward Hoe, reprinted in the Appendix of Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Ben Jonson, by W. R. Chetwood, Dublin. I 775» ^ v0 " O ld City Manners, a comedy altered from the original Eastward Hoe, by Charlotte Ramsey, afterwards Lennox. 1780, l2mo. Eastward Hoe, Dodsley, as above, vol. IV. l8lO, 8vo. Eastward Hoe, The Ancient British Drama, vol. II. 1825, Iimo. Eastward Hoe, Dodsley, as above, vol. IV. 1856, 8vo. The Works of John Marston, reprinted from the original copies, . . . edited by J. O. Halliwell, 3 vols., vol. III. 315tbltograpl)£ 393 1874, 8vo. The Works of George Chapman, edited by R. H. Shepherd, 3 vols., Plays, vol. I. 1887, ^ vo - The Works of John Marston, edited by A. H. Bullen, 3 vols., vol. III. B. THE ALCHEMIST. l6l2, 4 . The Alchemist, T. Snodham for W. Burre, . . sold by J. Stepneth. 1616, folio. The Workes of Ben Jonson, W. Stansby, sold by R. Meighan. 1640, folio. The Workes of Ben Jonson, R. Bishop, sold by A. Crooke, 2 vols., vol. I. — ^[1680?], i2mo. The Alchemist, a comedy . . the author B 'J- 1692, folio. The Workes of Ben Jonson, to which is added a comedy called The New Inn. 1709, 4 . The Alchemist. 1716, 8vo. Works of Ben Jonson, 6 vols. 1729, i2tno. Ben Jonson's Plays, Dublin, 2 vols. I 73 2 > I2m o- The Three Celebrated Plays of that ex- cellent Poet, Ben Jonson, The Fox, . the Alchymist, . . and the Silent Woman. 1740 circa, umo. O Rare Ben Johnson ! or, the favourite and celebrated Comedies of that excellent Poet, viz., The Fox, the Alchymist, the Silent Woman, and Bartholomew Fair. 1756, 8vo. The Works of Ben Jonson collated with all the former editions and corrected with notes critical and explanatory, by P. Whalley, 7 vols., vol. III. 1763, i2mo. The Alchemist with alterations, as performed at the theatres. (Garrick's version.) 1766, i6mo. Plays, viz. ■ I, Volpone, . II, the Al- chemist, . III., Epicoene, Glasgow. 1771, 8vo. The Tobacconist, a comedy of two acts (in prose) altered from (the Alchemist of) Ben Jonson (by F. Gen- tleman ) . 1774' 8 yo - The Alchemist, a comedy . . with alterations, Edinburgh. \ \ 394 \ yiBtbliograp^ I 777> I2rno - VThm Alchemist, altered from Ben Jonson, Bell's British Theati^, v|k XVII. 1780, i2mo. ThT'Alchemist, ibid., vol. XVII. I79I> i2mo. The Alchemist, ibid., vol. I. I 797> I2mo - The Alchemist, ibid., vol. I. 1804, 8vo. The Alchemist, British Drama, ea. Sir Walter Scott, vol. III. 1 8l I, 8vo. The Dramatic Works of Ben Jonson and Beaumont and Fletcher edited by G. Colman, (The Jonson part is a reprint of Whalley) 4 vols. l8l I, 8vo. The Alchemist, The Modern British- Drama, 3 vols, vol. III. Comedies. l8lS) i6mo. The Tobacconist, a farce altered from Ben Jonson, by F. Gentleman. 1 8l 6, 8vo. The Works of Ben Jonson with notes crit- ical and explanatory, and a biographical memoir by W. Gifford. 9 vols. l8l 8, 8vo. The Tobacconist, a farce, The New English Drama, vol. XIII. 1823, 8vo. The Tobacconist, a farce, Boston. 1824, 8vo. The Tobacconist, The London Stage, vol. II. 1836, 8vo. Der Alchemist translated into German by W. Graf von Baudissin in his Ben Jonson und seine Schule, I. , Leipsig. 1838, 8vo. The Works of Ben Jonson with a memoir by Barry Cornwall ( B. P. Procter) . 1846, 8vo. The Works of Ben Jonson as above, by W. Gifford, 9 vols. 1863, 8vo. Ben Jonson traduit par E. Lafond, Paris. 1870, 8vo. The Works of the British Dramatists, by J. S. Keltie, Edinburgh. 1 87 1) 8vo. The Works of Ben Jonson with notes critical and explanatory, and a biographical memoir by W. Gifford, with Introduction and Appendices by F. Cunningham, ,9 vols. 1875, 8vo. The Works of Ben Jonson . . by W. Gifford and F. Cunningham, as above, 9 vols. 1885, 8vo. Plays and Poems of Ben Jonson with an In- troduction by H. Morley. BtbliograpljW / 395 / | 1886, i6mo. The Dramatic Wor^s or Ben Jonson with an Essay, Biographical and Critical, by J-fA. fcymonds. 1892, 8vo. The Alchemist. Best BHzabethan Plays, edited by W. R. Thayer, Boston. 1894, 8vo. The Alchemist. Best plays of Ben Jonson edited by B. Nicholson. Mermaid Series, 3 vols., vol. III. 1894, 8vo. The Works of the British Dramatists by J. S. Keltie, as above, New York. II. WORKS BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL. Besides monographs and essays de-voted specially to Eastward Hoe and The Alchemist, this list includes such general works on the drama and on the authors, Jonson, Chapman, and Marston, and their ivorks as are likely to pro-ve useful to the general reader or student of the drama. Specif c references are furnished ivhere neces- sary. See also the memoirs and critical matter prefixed to the Works in the list of texts abo-ve. 1668. An Essay of Dramatic Poesy, byj. Dryden. Works of Dryden, ed. Scott-Saintsbury, 1882-1888, XV. 282 ff. ; The Alchemist, pp. 331, 335, 346 ; and see ibid., XVIII. 285 fF. 1668. A Defence of an Essay of Dramatic Poesy, by J. Dryden. ibid., II. 290. 1 69 1. An Account of the English Dramatic Poets, by G. Langbaine, pp. 57, 66, 281. 1709. The Tatler, by R. Steele, Thursday, May 12. Note on the Alchemist. The British Essayists, ed. 1827, I. 90. 1749- Remarks on the three plays ok Ben Jonson, viz. Volpone, Epicoene, and the Alchemist, by J. Upton. 1785. Dramatic Miscellanies, Thomas Davies, vol. II. 1808. Specimens of English Dramatic Poets, by C. Lamb. Note on the Alchemist, ed. 1893, I. 136. 1808. An Examination of the Charges . . of Ben Jon- son's Enmity towards Shakespeare, O. Gilchrist. l8l I. Das altenglische Theater, von L. Tieck, Krit- ische Schriften, ed. 1848 ; Jonson, I. 267 fF., Berlin. 396 llBtbliograptip l8ll. A Letter to W. Gifford . . . relating to Ben Jonson, O. Gilchrist. lSl7- Dramaturgische Vorlesungen, XXXIII., A. W. Schlegel, Sammtliche Werke, ed. 1848, Chapman, VI. 331 ; Jonson, 333 fF. 1 82 1. Eastward Hoe, Notices of Old English Comedies No. I, by J. C, Blackwood's Magazine, X. 127. 1835. Table Talk, S. T. Coleridge, Jonson, II. pp. 245, 299-300; The Alchemist, pp. 120-121, 339. 1836-38. Literary Remains, of S. T. Coleridge, Jonson, II. pp. 268-287 j The Alchemist, I. pp. 98-100 5 II. pp. 279- 280. 1842. Notes of Jonson' s Conversations with Drummond, Shakespeare Society's Publications. 1847. Essay on the Life and Writings of Ben Jonson, by A. Schmidt, Program, Danzig. See also Gesammelte Ab- handlungen, Berlin, 1889. The Alchemist, pp. 36-43. 1852. Ben Jonson, by L. Herrig. Archiv fur das Studium der neueren Sprachen und Litteraturen, X. 241. Eberfeld. l857- A critical Examination of the poetic genius of Ben Jonson, Uellner, Program, Dusseldorf. 1863. Predecesseurs et Contemporains de Shakspeare, A. Mezieres, I. ch. 9, Paris. 1863. Histoire de la Litterature Anglaise, H. A. Taine, Paris, II. 1-69. 1865. Ben Jonson, eine Studie, H. Von Friesen. Shake- speare Jahrbuch, X. 127. Berlin. 1870. Ben Jonson als Lustspieldichter, O. Ulbrich, Ar- chiv fur das Studium der neueren Sprachen und Litteraturen, XLVI. 407. 1874. Chapman's Dramatic Works, Cornhill Magazine, XXX. 23 ff. 1875- A History of English Dramatic Literature, A. W. Ward, 2 vols. Eastward Hoe, II. 29-32 ; Alchemist, I. 570-572. 1875. Essay on the Poetical and Dramatic Works of George Chapman, A. C. Swinburne, prefixed to The Works of George Chapman, Translations and Minor Poems, pp. xxvii— xxix. Bibltograptn? 397 1883. The Original Hero of the Comedy of Eastward Hoe, C. Edmonds, The Athensum, October 13, p. 463. 1884. Shakespeare and Montaigne, J. Feis, Jonson, pp. 138—153 ; Eastward Hoe, p. 196. 1884. Metrische Untersuchungen zu Ben Jonson, W. Wilke, Dissertation, Halle. 1886. Ben Jonson, J. A. Symonds, English Worthies. East- ward Hoe, pp. 43-44; The Alchemist, pp. 97-110. 1887. George Chapman, A. H. Bullen, Dictionary of National Biography, X. 47. 1888. Ben Jonson, A. C. Swinburne, Nineteenth Century, XXIII. 603, 693. 1888. John Marston, A. C. Swinburne, Nineteenth Cen- tury, XXIV. 531. Eastward Hoe, p. 538. 1888. Anwendung der Rhyme-Test und Double-Endings- Test auf BenJonson's Dramen, W. Wilke, Anglia, X. 512. Halle. 1889. A Study of Ben Jonson, A. C. Swinburne. The Alchemist, pp. 36-43. 1891. A Biographical Chronicle of the English Drama, F. G. Fleay. Jonson, I. 311-387, II. 1-18; Chapman, I. 50- 66; Marston, II. 68-82; Eastward Hoe, I. 60-61 ; Alchemist, I. 375-76. 1892. Ben Jonson, C. H. Herford, Dictionary of National Biography, XXX. 181. 1893. John Marston, A. H. Bullen, Dictionary of National Biography, XXXVI. 276. 1894. Ueber BenJonson's aeltere Lustspiele, H. Hoff- schulte, Program, Muenster, pp. 26-29. 1895. Quellen-studien zu den Dramen Ben Jonson's, John Marston's und Beaumont's und Fletcher's, E. Koeppel, Muenchener Beitraege zur Romanischen und Englischen Philolo- gie, Erlangen und Leipsig. Eastward Hoe, p. 31 ; Alchemist, p. 12. 1895. Ben [onson's Theorie des Lustspiele, P. Aron- stein, Anglia, XVII. 466. Halle. 1898. Studies in Jonson's Comedy, E. Woodbridge, Yale Studies in English, New York. The Alchemist, pp. 60—64. 398 Bibliography 1800. A History of English Dramatic Literature, A. W. Ward. Jonson, II. 296-407 ; Chapman, II. 408-493 ; Marston, 472-493; Eastward Hoe, 441-444; The Alchemist, 367-369. 1 001. Newly discovered Documents of the Elizabethan and Jacobean Periods, by B. Dobell, Athenaeum, March 23, 30, April 6, and 13, Letters of Chapman and Jonson. 1903. 8vo. The Alchemist. Edited by C. M. Hathaway, Jr., Ph.D. (Yale Studies in English, XVII.) New York. <&Io££arp acop, crested. adalantado, a lord deputy or president of a county. admirall, the chief ship of a fleet. adrop, the matter out of which mercury is extracted for the philosopher's stone ; also the stone itself. alembick, the head of the dis- tilling apparatus in which the distilled material was held. aludels, subliming pots with- out bottoms, fitted into each other without luting. amuse, amaze. ancome, also uncome, a felon. anenst, against, next to. angel, a gold coin worth about ten shillings. angrie boys, roisterers. aqua fortis, weak, impure vitriol. aqua regis, a mixture of nitric and hydrochloric acid capable of dissolving gold. aqua vitae, old name for al- cohol. argaile, argol, unrefined tartar. aspired, gained, acquired. athanor, a digesting furnace made to retain heat. aurum potabile, said to be gold reduced without corrosive into a blood-red gum me or honey-like substance, drink- able. azoch, mercury. azot, azote, nitrogen. babioun, an ape, baboon. backside, back yard. baiard, a soldier, man of milita- ry bearing ; also commonly used of a blind, sorry horse, and may have this meaning here. balloon, a game in which an inflated leather ball was driven to and fro by a flat piece of wood attached to the arm. balneum, a bath or heating of a vessel in hot water or sand. band, starched collar. bandog, a dog tied up because of his fierceness, hence a watch-dog, mastiff or blood- hound. barb, to clip coin. barbel, a fresh-water fish with appendages at its mouth. bavin, a bundle of brushwood, fascine. bird, «. a fly or familiar spirit ; v. to pilfer. 400 (£lo0sfari? bodkin, a long ornamental pin used by women to fasten the hair. bolted, driven out. bolts-head, a long-necked conical vessel. bona roba, a wench, usually in an opprobrious sense. bony-bell (bonnibel), a fair lass. botcher, a mender or repairer. brach, a bitch. Br adamant, a famous amazon possessed of an irresistible spear. See Ariosto, Orlando Furioso. braine, a wit, intriguer. Brainford, Brentford. Brownist, a follower of the Puritan sect founded about 1 58 1 by Robert Brown. buckall, buccal, a mouth- piece. buffin, a variety of coarse cloth. bllfo, red tincture. buz, a word used in incantation. by-and-bye, immediately. Calce, calces, products of com- bustion, especially of metals, supposed by alchemists to be converted into a species of earth. Caliver, a kind of light musket or harquebus, the lightest port- able firearm excepting the pis- tol. calvered, cut in slices while alive. can, know, be acquainted with. Candor, honor, fair reputation. canting, cheating. ceration, softening a hard substance. cheat-bread, fine wheaten bread. chiaus, an envoy or special agent of the Sultan. Such an agent had, in 1609, swin- dled the Turkish and the Per- sian merchants of London out of some ^4000 ; hence the word came to mean a scoun- drel or cheat. chibrit, mercury. chippings, broken bread. chough, originally a jack- daw, or crow, a chatterer, prater. chrysopceia, gold-making. chrysosperme, elixir. chymia, x v ^ a *° r XVP*la, alchemy. cibation, feeding of matter with fresh substance to supply evaporation. cinoper, cinnabar, red sul- phid of mercury. citronize, to become yellow. clip, to embrace, clip close, fit snugly. cocatrice, cockatrice, a pros- titute. COCkrel, cockerel, a young cock. COhobation, redistillation. collect, recollect. &lo0$an? 401 Colliar, blackguard, conscience, knowledge, sense. COp, a crest ; aCOp, crested. Copy, copiousness, plenty. COrasive, corrosive. COrtine, curtain. countenance, credit. Counter, compter, prison of a mayor's court. counters, card-money. couple, a brace or leash for holding two hounds together. court-hand, a style of writ- ing in use in the law courts in the sixteenth century. COvetise, covetousness. COyl, hubbub, tumult. crinckle, waver, shrink from a purpose. crosse-let, crucible. cucurbite, a gourd-shaped ves- sel for distilling. Cullion, scoundrel. cunning-man, man of skill, alchemist. deal, play the pander. digestion, the preparation of a substance by gentle heat. dildo, an obscene word used in ballad refrains, dilling, darling. ding, to beat. discipline, Puritan cant for reformation of the church. dishonest, f . to dishonor. dog-bolt, a blunt-headed ar- dole, a small portion given in charity. donzel, a squire or page. Dousabel {douce et belle), a common name among writers of pastorals. doxie, a beggar's trull or wench, dub, to knight ; also to beat, dulcify, free from corrosive admixture. durance, a stout durable cloth of wool. earne, to desire strongly, long for. emp 'ricks, empirics, experi- mentalists. enforste, forced. engines, enginer, schemes, schemer. Ephemerides, astronomical almanac ; (plural used as sin- gular.) est rich, ostrich. expect, await. faithfull, easy of faith, credu- lous. fall, a ruff or band which was turned back on the shoulders. familiar, an attendant spirit or demon. farder, farther. feize, feeze, to threaten, frighten away. felt, a hat. felt re, to filter. fermentation, the mutation 402 <£lo00an? of a substance into a ferment after destruction of its primary qualities. festination, hurrying, haste. fetch, gull, get the better of. figent, fidgety, restless. fire-drake, an alchemist's as- sistant. firk, n. a trick, dodge, or sub- terfuge, •v. to trick, to gull ; also to urge, to drive, force. fixation, a non-volatile state. flat-cap, a citizen, from that article of his dress. flitter-mouse, a bat. flock-bed, a mattress. fly, a familiar spirit, demon. foreright, favorable, in the line of one's course. fough, faugh. foyst, a cheat, rogue. foysting - hound, an ill- smelling hound. frail, a basket. frame, plot, plan. froward, perverse, refractory. frume'ty, frumenty, wheat boiled in milk. fllCUS, cosmetic. fume, smoke. fyste, "• a scoundrel, trickster; •v. •vessijier. gallantry, gallants, young bloods. garb, fashion, demeanor. get-peny, a profitable play. ging, gang. girdlestead, the waist. gleeke, an early French game at cards supposed to be derived in title from the German word gluck, hazard or chance. It is played by three persons who hold twelve cards each and draw from the remainder which is called the stock. The players bid successively for the stock and the successful bidder pays for his cards in accordance with the value of the cards held by his opponents. Cot- ton, The Complete Gamester, 1680, p. 64ft". god-boye, a by-form of good- bye. gods gift, literal meaning of Dorothee. gold-end-man, a buyer of broken gold and silver. goldsmith, usurer, see notes to Alchemist. Goodfellow, a religious sect of dissenting principles. godwit, a marsh bird. goose-turd, a shade of green, merde a" oie. gOSSamOUr, cobweb down. gossip, a familiar friend, chum; also as originally a sponsor. gresCO, apparently a game at cards, corresponding to the popular Venetian game still played by children called cresco, or cresco in mano. <£>lo0sfarp 403 gripes egge, a vessel shaped like the egg of a vulture. groat, silver coin, value 4d. groome-porter, " an officer of the royal household, whose business it is to see the king's lodging furnished ; . . . and also to provide cards and dice . . . and to decide disputes arising at cards, dice, bowling, etc." Cunningham. guards, facings, trimmings. gudgeon, one that will bite at any bait, a credulous person. gull, to fool, cheat. habergions, coats of mail ; here guards, soldiers. hansell, to use for the first time. happy, rich. hay, a net to catch rabbits. hazzard, a game at dice ; also the court in tennis into which the ball is served. hearken out, to get to hear of, to search out. helme, a retort. hoigh, Dutch hoy, unwieldy lighter. hot, prevalent. house, in astrology the twelfth part of the zodiac. huisher, old form of usher. hum, a word used in incanta- tion. idiot, layman, private person. importune, importunate. inhibition, a kind of bath in alchemy, a restraining process of the tenth stage. inceration, softening to the consistency of moist wax. inginer, see enginer. intelligencer, an informer. jovy, jovial. kemia, alchemy ? perhaps some sort of vessel ? kibes, chilblains. kibrit, sulphur. knave, boy, servant. Knipper-doling, an Ana- baptist who raised a revolt in Miinster in I 533. knot, the red-breasted sand- piper. kuss, kiss. lac virginis, mercurial wa- ter. lady-bird, a term of endear- ment. lato, latten, a species of auri- chalc, a mixed metal of yel- low color resembling brass. launder, here wash in aqua fortis. lay for, lie in wait for. legge, n. a bow ; -v. to make a, to bow. lembek, limbeck, a still. lent, slow. lenter, gentler, milder. 404 d5los#ari? licket, a shred, a rag. litharge, fused yellow protoxide of lead, obtained in separating silver from lead. loose, a shot, a venture in archery. Luna, silver. lunarie, moonwort, prized by alchemists. lungs, an assistant in alche- my. lute, to smear a retort with clay to resist heat. macerate, to steep. maistrie, the magisterium or philosopher's stone. malleation, malleability. mammet, a puppet. mandragora, a powerful so- porific. marchesite, marcasite, a form of iron pyrites. mark, a coin worth 13s. 4d. marie, marvel. mauther, an awkward, rustic woman. Diaw, otherwise rumstich, a Dutch game at cards played by any number of players and with a piquet pack of thirty- six cards. menstrue, a solvent, men- struum. merds, excrement. mere, pure. metaposcopy, fortune-telling by reading the countenance. Millenary, a name applied to the supporters of a certain Puritan petition addressed to King James in 1603. modern, common, trivial. moon, Luna, silver. motion, idea, proposition. mum-chance, a low gambling game with dice. myrobolane, a sweetmeat, conserve, dried plums from the Indies. natural, fool ; naturals, natural parts, abilities. nicerye, daintiness, affecta- tion. noble, a coin worth 6s. 8d. numbred, accounted for, a Biblical word misused. oppone, oppose. ordinary, eating house. outrecuidance, Fr. presump- tion, arrogance. Ormus, a commercial centre, of great wealth, on an island at the entrance to the Gulf of Persia. overshot, intoxicated. packing, collusion, trick- ery. pageant, Lord Mayor's Show. pamphysick, appertaining to all nature. panarchick, sovereign, all- ruling. 6los#arv 405 Paracelsian, a follower of Paracelsus, hence an alche- mist. parcell-guilt, partly gilt, a cheap imitation of gold. par'lous, perilous, forward, shrewd, pavin, pavane, a stately dance, derived from Pavia. peat, a spoiled, self-willed girl. peeterman, fisherman, one who follows the occupation of St. Peter, pellicane, an alembic designed for continued distillation. pellitorie, a small bushy plant growing on walls. phlegma, water of distilla- tion. piece of eight, the Spanish peso duro bearing the numeral 8. pipkin, perhaps a variety of headdress, pire, pier, pistolet, a pistole, Spanish gold coin ; also a pistol. pitch, to stretch, as a net. plot, plan. point device, a. precise, nice; ad-v. exactlv, particularly. points, tagged laces used to hold up the breeches. pomander, pomme d'ambre, a ball or small box of perfumes carried in the pocket or worn as a bracelet or about the neck. porcpisce, a porpoise. portague, a gold coin worth post-and-pair, a game at cards in which the players vie (bet) on the excellence of their hands. potate, liquefied. poulder-cornes, granulated gunpowder. poynado, a caudle made of bread, currants, sack and eggs. presently, at once. presse, conscription. prest, ready. prevent, anticipate. primero, a game at cards of Spanish or Italian origin, so called because he wins who holds the prime or primero, a sequence of the best cards. Four cards are dealt to each player and various cards are assigned a fixed number of points. The best chance is the flush (four cards of a kind), the next is the fifty- and-five. This game was long both fashionable and popular. projection, the twelfth and last process in alchemv. prophane, vain, wicked, a Puritan word. puckfist, puff-ball ; in abuse, vile fungus. puffing, puffin, didapper, a water-fowl, a fool. 406