Scene
I
A room in Lovewit’s house.
Enter Face and Mammon.
Face
O sir, you’re come in the only finest time.—
Sir Epicure Mammon
Where’s master?
Face
Now preparing for projection, sir.
Your stuff will be all changed shortly.
Sir Epicure Mammon
Into gold?
Face
To gold and silver, sir.
Sir Epicure Mammon
Silver I care not for.
Face
Yes, sir, a little to give beggars.
Sir Epicure Mammon
Where’s the lady?
Face
At hand here. I have told her such brave things of you,
Touching your bounty, and your noble spirit—
Sir Epicure Mammon
Hast thou?
Face
As she is almost in her fit to see you.
But, good sir, no divinity in your conference,
For fear of putting her in rage.—
Sir Epicure Mammon
I warrant thee.
Face
Six men [sir] will not hold her down: and then,
If the old man should hear or see you—
Sir Epicure Mammon
Fear not.
Face
The very house, sir, would run mad. You know it,
How scrupulous he is, and violent,
’Gainst the least act of sin. Physic, or mathematics,
Poetry, state, or bawdry, as I told you,
She will endure, and never startle; but
No word of controversy.
Sir Epicure Mammon
I am schooled, good Ulen.
Face
And you must praise her house, remember that,
And her nobility.
Sir Epicure Mammon
Let me alone:
No herald, no, nor antiquary, Lungs,
Shall do it better. Go.
Face
Aside. Why, this is yet
A kind of modern happiness, to have
Dol Common for a great lady.
Exit.
Sir Epicure Mammon
Now, Epicure,
Heighten thyself, talk to her all in gold;
Rain her as many showers as Jove did drops
Unto his Danae; show the god a miser,
Compared with Mammon. What! The stone will do’t.
She shall feel gold, taste gold, hear gold, sleep gold;
Nay, we will concumbere gold: I will be puissant,
And mighty in my talk to her.—
Reenter Face, with Dol richly dressed.
Here she comes.
Face
To him, Dol, suckle him.—This is the noble knight,
I told your ladyship—
Sir Epicure Mammon
Madam, with your pardon,
I kiss your vesture.
Dol Common
Sir, I were uncivil
If I would suffer that; my lip to you, sir.
Sir Epicure Mammon
I hope my lord your brother be in health, lady.
Dol Common
My lord, my brother is, though I no lady, sir.
Face
Aside. Well said, my Guinea bird.
Sir Epicure Mammon
Right noble madam—
Face
Aside. O, we shall have most fierce idolatry.
Sir Epicure Mammon
’Tis your prerogative.
Dol Common
Rather your courtesy.
Sir Epicure Mammon
Were there nought else to enlarge your virtues to me,
These answers speak your breeding and your blood.
Dol Common
Blood we boast none, sir, a poor baron’s daughter.
Sir Epicure Mammon
Poor! And gat you? Profane not. Had your father
Slept all the happy remnant of his life
After that act, lien but there still, and panted,
He had done enough to make himself, his issue,
And his posterity noble.
Dol Common
Sir, although
We may be said to want the gilt and trappings,
The dress of honour, yet we strive to keep
The seeds and the materials.
Sir Epicure Mammon
I do see
The old ingredient, virtue, was not lost,
Nor the drug money used to make your compound.
There is a strange nobility in your eye,
This lip, that chin! Methinks you do resemble
One of the Austriac princes.
Face
Very like!
Aside.
Her father was an Irish costermonger.
Sir Epicure Mammon
The house of Valois just had such a nose,
And such a forehead yet the Medici
Of Florence boast.
Dol Common
Troth, and I have been likened
To all these princes.
Face
Aside. I’ll be sworn, I heard it.
Sir Epicure Mammon
I know not how! It is not anyone,
But e’en the very choice of all their features.
Face
Aside. I’ll in, and laugh.
Exit.
Sir Epicure Mammon
A certain touch, or air,
That sparkles a divinity, beyond
An earthly beauty!
Dol Common
O, you play the courtier.
Sir Epicure Mammon
Good lady, give me leave—
Dol Common
In faith, I may not,
To mock me, sir.
Sir Epicure Mammon
To burn in this sweet flame;
The phoenix never knew a nobler death.
Dol Common
Nay, now you court the courtier, and destroy
What you would build. This art, sir, in your words,
Calls your whole faith in question.
Sir Epicure Mammon
By my soul—
Dol Common
Nay, oaths are made of the same air, sir.
Sir Epicure Mammon
Nature
Never bestowed upon mortality
A more unblamed, a more harmonious feature;
She played the stepdame in all faces else:
Sweet Madam, let me be particular—
Dol Common
Particular, sir! I pray you know your distance.
Sir Epicure Mammon
In no ill sense, sweet lady; but to ask
How your fair graces pass the hours? I see
You are lodged here, in the house of a rare man,
An excellent artist; but what’s that to you?
Dol Common
Yes, sir; I study here the mathematics,
And distillation.
Sir Epicure Mammon
O, I cry your pardon.
He’s a divine instructor! Can extract
The souls of all things by his art; call all
The virtues, and the miracles of the sun,
Into a temperate furnace; teach dull nature
What her own forces are. A man, the emperor
Has courted above Kelly; sent his medals
And chains, to invite him.
Dol Common
Ay, and for his physic, sir—
Sir Epicure Mammon
Above the art of Aesculapius,
That drew the envy of the thunderer!
I know all this, and more.
Dol Common
Troth, I am taken, sir,
Whole with these studies, that contemplate nature.
Sir Epicure Mammon
It is a noble humour; but this form
Was not intended to so dark a use.
Had you been crooked, foul, of some coarse mould
A cloister had done well; but such a feature
That might stand up the glory of a kingdom,
To live recluse! Is a mere soloecism,
Though in a nunnery. It must not be.
I muse, my lord your brother will permit it:
You should spend half my land first, were I he.
Does not this diamond better on my finger,
Than in the quarry?
Dol Common
Yes.
Sir Epicure Mammon
Why, you are like it.
You were created, lady, for the light.
Here, you shall wear it; take it, the first pledge
Of what I speak, to bind you to believe me.
Dol Common
In chains of adamant?
Sir Epicure Mammon
Yes, the strongest bands.
And take a secret too—here, by your side,
Doth stand this hour, the happiest man in Europe.
Dol Common
You are contended, sir!
Sir Epicure Mammon
Nay, in true being,
The envy of princes and the fear of states.
Dol Common
Say you so, Sir Epicure?
Sir Epicure Mammon
Yes, and thou shalt prove it,
Daughter of honour. I have cast mine eye
Upon thy form, and I will rear this beauty
Above all styles.
Dol Common
You mean no treason, sir?
Sir Epicure Mammon
No, I will take away that jealousy.
I am the lord of the philosopher’s stone,
And thou the lady.
Dol Common
How, sir! Have you that?
Sir Epicure Mammon
I am the master of the mystery.
This day the good old wretch here o’ the house
Has made it for us: now he’s at projection.
Think therefore thy first wish now, let me hear it;
And it shall rain into thy lap, no shower,
But floods of gold, whole cataracts, a deluge,
To get a nation on thee.
Dol Common
You are pleased, sir,
To work on the ambition of our sex.
Sir Epicure Mammon
I am pleased the glory of her sex should know,
This nook, here, of the Friars is no climate
For her to live obscurely in, to learn
Physic and surgery, for the constable’s wife
Of some odd hundred in Essex; but come forth,
And taste the air of palaces; eat, drink
The toils of empirics, and their boasted practice;
Tincture of pearl, and coral, gold, and amber;
Be seen at feasts and triumphs; have it asked,
What miracle she is; set all the eyes
Of court afire, like a burning glass,
And work them into cinders, when the jewels
Of twenty states adorn thee, and the light
Strikes out the stars! That when thy name is mentioned,
Queens may look pale; and we but showing our love,
Nero’s Poppaea may be lost in story!
Thus will we have it.
Dol Common
I could well consent, sir.
But, in a monarchy, how will this be?
The prince will soon take notice, and both seize
You and your stone, it being a wealth unfit
For any private subject.
Sir Epicure Mammon
If he knew it.
Dol Common
Yourself do boast it, sir.
Sir Epicure Mammon
To thee, my life.
Dol Common
O, but beware, sir! You may come to end
The remnants of your days in a loathed prison,
By speaking of it.
Sir Epicure Mammon
’Tis no idle fear.
We’ll therefore go withal, my girl, and live
In a free state, where we will eat our mullets,
Soused in high-country wines, sup pheasants’ eggs,
And have our cockles boiled in silver shells;
Our shrimps to swim again, as when they lived,
In a rare butter made of dolphins’ milk,
Whose cream does look like opals; and with these
Delicate meats set ourselves high for pleasure,
And take us down again, and then renew
Our youth and strength with drinking the elixir,
And so enjoy a perpetuity
Of life and lust! And thou shalt have thy wardrobe
Richer than nature’s, still to change thyself,
And vary oftener, for thy pride, than she,
Or art, her wise and almost-equal servant.
Reenter Face.
Face
Sir, you are too loud. I hear you every word
Into the laboratory. Some fitter place;
The garden, or great chamber above. How like you her?
Sir Epicure Mammon
Excellent! Lungs. There’s for thee.
Gives him money.
Face
But do you hear?
Good sir, beware, no mention of the Rabbins.
Sir Epicure Mammon
We think not on ’em.
Exeunt Mammon and Dol.
Face
O, it is well, sir.—Subtle!
Enter Subtle.
Dost thou not laugh?
Subtle
Yes; are they gone?
Face
All’s clear.
Subtle
The widow is come.
Face
And your quarrelling disciple?
Subtle
Ay.
Face
I must to my captainship again then.
Subtle
Stay, bring them in first.
Face
So I meant. What is she?
A bonnibel?
Subtle
I know not.
Face
We’ll draw lots:
You’ll stand to that?
Subtle
What else?
Face
O, for a suit,
To fall now like a curtain, flap!
Subtle
To the door, man.
Face
You’ll have the first kiss, ’cause I am not ready.
Exit.
Subtle
Yes, and perhaps hit you through both the nostrils.
Face
Within. Who would you speak with?
Kastril
Within. Where’s the Captain?
Face
Within. Gone, sir,
About some business.
Kastril
Within. Gone!
Face
Within. He’ll return straight.
But Master Doctor, his lieutenant, is here.
Enter Kastril, followed by Dame Pliant.
Subtle
Come near, my worshipful boy, my terrae fili,
That is, my boy of land; make thy approaches:
Welcome; I know thy lusts, and thy desires,
And I will serve and satisfy them. Begin,
Charge me from thence, or thence, or in this line;
Here is my centre: ground thy quarrel.
Kastril
You lie.
Subtle
How, child of wrath and anger! The loud lie?
For what, my sudden boy?
Kastril
Nay, that look you to,
I am aforehand.
Subtle
O, this is no true grammar,
And as ill logic! You must render causes, child,
Your first and second intentions, know your canons
And your divisions, moods, degrees, and differences,
Your predicaments, substance, and accident,
Series, extern and intern, with their causes,
Efficient, material, formal, final,
And have your elements perfect.
Kastril
Aside. What is this?
The angry tongue he talks in?
Subtle
That false precept,
Of being aforehand, has deceived a number,
And made them enter quarrels, oftentimes,
Before they were aware; and afterward,
Against their wills.
Kastril
How must I do then, sir?
Subtle
I cry this lady mercy: she should first
Have been saluted.
Kisses her.
I do call you lady,
Because you are to be one, ere’t be long,
My soft and buxom widow.
Kastril
Is she, i’faith?
Subtle
Yes, or my art is an egregious liar.
Kastril
How know you?
Subtle
By inspection on her forehead,
And subtlety of her lip, which must be tasted
Often to make a judgment.
Kisses her again.
’Slight, she melts
Like a myrobolane:—here is yet a line,
In rivo frontis, tells me he is no knight.
Dame Pliant
What is he then, sir?
Subtle
Let me see your hand.
O, your linea fortunae makes it plain;
And stella here in monte Veneris.
But, most of all, junctura annularis.
He is a soldier, or a man of art, lady,
But shall have some great honour shortly.
Dame Pliant
Brother,
He’s a rare man, believe me!
Reenter Face, in his uniform.
Kastril
Hold your peace.
Here comes the t’other rare man.—’Save you, Captain.
Face
Good master Kastril! Is this your sister?
Kastril
Ay, sir.
Please you to kiss her, and be proud to know her.
Face
I shall be proud to know you, lady.
Kisses her.
Dame Pliant
Brother,
He calls me lady too.
Kastril
Ay, peace: I heard it.
Takes her aside.
Face
The count is come.
Subtle
Where is he?
Face
At the door.
Subtle
Why, you must entertain him.
Face
What will you do
With these the while?
Subtle
Why, have them up, and show them
Some fustian book, or the dark glass.
Face
’Fore God,
She is a delicate dabchick! I must have her.
Exit.
Subtle
Must you! Ay, if your fortune will, you must.—
Come, sir, the Captain will come to us presently:
I’ll have you to my chamber of demonstrations,
Where I will show you both the grammar and logic,
And rhetoric of quarrelling; my whole method
Drawn out in tables; and my instrument,
That hath the several scales upon’t, shall make you
Able to quarrel at a straw’s-breadth by moonlight.
And, lady, I’ll have you look in a glass,
Some half an hour, but to clear your eyesight,
Against you see your fortune; which is greater,
Than I may judge upon the sudden, trust me.
Exit, followed by Kastril and Dame Pliant.
Reenter Face.
Face
Where are you, Doctor?
Subtle
Within. I’ll come to you presently.
Face
I will have this same widow, now I have seen her,
On any composition.
Reenter Subtle.
Subtle
What do you say?
Face
Have you disposed of them?
Subtle
I have sent them up.
Face
Subtle, in troth, I needs must have this widow.
Subtle
Is that the matter?
Face
Nay, but hear me.
Subtle
Go to.
If you rebel once, Dol shall know it all:
Therefore be quiet, and obey your chance.
Face
Nay, thou art so violent now—Do but conceive,
Thou art old, and canst not serve—
Subtle
Who cannot? I?
’Slight, I will serve her with thee, for a—
Face
Nay,
But understand: I’ll give you composition.
Subtle
I will not treat with thee; what! Sell my fortune?
’Tis better than my birthright. Do not murmur:
Win her, and carry her. If you grumble, Dol
Knows it directly.
Face
Well, sir, I am silent.
Will you go help to fetch in Don in state?
Exit.
Subtle
I follow you, sir. We must keep Face in awe,
Or he will overlook us like a tyrant.
Reenter Face, introducing Surly disguised as a Spaniard.
Brain of a tailor! Who comes here? Don John!
Pertinax Surly
Señores, beso las manos a vuestras mercedes.
Subtle
Would you had stooped a little, and kissed our anos!
Face
Peace, Subtle.
Subtle
Stab me; I shall never hold, man.
He looks in that deep ruff like a head in a platter,
Served in by a short cloak upon two trestles.
Face
Or, what do you say to a collar of brawn, cut down
Beneath the souse, and wriggled with a knife?
Subtle
’Slud, he does look too fat to be a Spaniard.
Face
Perhaps some Fleming or some Hollander got him
In d’Alva’s time; Count Egmont’s bastard.
Subtle
Don,
Your scurvy, yellow, Madrid face is welcome.
Pertinax Surly
Gratia.
Subtle
He speaks out of a fortification.
Pray God he have no squibs in those deep sets.
Pertinax Surly
Por dios, señores, muy linda casa!
Subtle
What says he?
Face
Praises the house, I think;
I know no more but’s action.
Subtle
Yes, the casa,
My precious Diego, will prove fair enough
To cozen you in. Do you mark? You shall
Be cozened, Diego.
Face
Cozened, do you see,
My worthy Donzel, cozened.
Pertinax Surly
Entiendo.
Subtle
Do you intend it? So do we, dear Don.
Have you brought pistolets, or portagues,
My solemn Don?—Dost thou feel any?
Face
Feels his pockets. Full.
Subtle
You shall be emptied, Don, pumped and drawn
Dry, as they say.
Face
Milked, in troth, sweet Don.
Subtle
See all the monsters; the great lion of all, Don.
Pertinax Surly
Con licencia, se puede ver a esta señora?
Subtle
What talks he now?
Face
Of the Señora.
Subtle
O, Don,
This is the lioness, which you shall see
Also, my Don.
Face
’Slid, Subtle, how shall we do?
Subtle
For what?
Face
Why Dol’s employed, you know.
Subtle
That’s true.
’Fore heaven, I know not: he must stay, that’s all.
Face
Stay! That he must not by no means.
Subtle
No! Why?
Face
Unless you’ll mar all. ’Slight, he will suspect it:
And then he will not pay, not half so well.
This is a travelled punk-master, and does know
All the delays; a notable hot rascal,
And looks already rampant.
Subtle
’Sdeath, and Mammon
Must not be troubled.
Face
Mammon! In no case.
Subtle
What shall we do then?
Face
Think: you must be sudden.
Pertinax Surly
Entiendo que la señora es tan hermosa, que codicio tan
verla, como la bien aventuranza de mi vida.
Face
Mi vida! ’Slid, Subtle, he puts me in mind of the widow.
What dost thou say to draw her to it, ha!
And tell her ’tis her fortune? All our venture
Now lies upon’t. It is but one man more,
Which of us chance to have her: and beside,
There is no maidenhead to be feared or lost.
What dost thou think on’t, Subtle?
Subtle
Who? I? Why—
Face
The credit of our house too is engaged.
Subtle
You made me an offer for my share erewhile.
What wilt thou give me, i’faith?
Face
O, by that light
I’ll not buy now: You know your doom to me.
E’en take your lot, obey your chance, sir; win her,
And wear her out, for me.
Subtle
’Slight, I’ll not work her then.
Face
It is the common cause; therefore bethink you.
Dol else must know it, as you said.
Subtle
I care not.
Pertinax Surly
Señores, porque se tarda tanto?
Subtle
Faith, I am not fit, I am old.
Face
That’s now no reason, sir.
Pertinax Surly
Puede ser de hazer burla de mi amor?
Face
You hear the Don too? By this air, I call,
And loose the hinges: Dol!
Subtle
A plague of hell—
Face
Will you then do?
Subtle
You are a terrible rogue!
I’ll think of this: will you, sir, call the widow?
Face
Yes, and I’ll take her too with all her faults,
Now I do think on’t better.
Subtle
With all my heart, sir;
Am I discharged o’ the lot?
Face
As you please.
Subtle
Hands.
They take hands.
Face
Remember now, that upon any change,
You never claim her.
Subtle
Much good joy, and health to you, sir,
Marry a whore! Fate, let me wed a witch first.
Pertinax Surly
Por estas honradas barbas—
Subtle
He swears by his beard.
Dispatch, and call the brother too.
Exit Face.
Pertinax Surly
Tengo duda, señores,
que no me hagan alguna traycion.
Subtle
How, issue on? Yes, praesto, sennor. Please you
Enthratha the chambrata, worthy Don:
Where if you please the fates, in your bathada,
You shall be soaked, and stroked, and tubbed and rubbed,
And scrubbed, and fubbed, dear Don, before you go.
You shall in faith, my scurvy baboon Don,
Be curried, clawed, and flawed, and tawed, indeed.
I will the heartlier go about it now,
And make the widow a punk so much the sooner,
To be revenged on this impetuous Face:
The quickly doing of it is the grace.
Exeunt Subtle and Surly.