DRAMATIS PERSONAE
SUBTLE, the Alchemist.
FACE, the Housekeeper.
DOL COMMON, their Colleague.
DAPPER, a Lawyer’s Clerk.
DRUGGER, a Tobacco Man.
LOVEWIT, Master of the House.
SIR EPICURE MAMMON, a Knight.
PERTINAX SURLY, a Gamester.
TRIBULATION WHOLESOME, a Pastor of Amsterdam.
ANANIAS, a Deacon there.
KASTRIL, the angry Boy.
DAME PLIANT, his Sister, a Widow.
Neighbours.
Officers, Attendants, etc.
SCENE, — LONDON.
ARGUMENT
T he sickness hot, a master quit, for fear,
H is house in town, and left one servant there;
E ase him corrupted, and gave means to know
A Cheater, and his punk; who now brought low,
L eaving their narrow practice, were become
C ozeners at large; and only 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, news,
S elling of flies, flat bawdry with the stone,
T ill it, and they, and all in fume are gone.
PROLOGUE
Fortune, that favours fools, these two short hours,
We wish away, both for your sakes and ours,
Judging spectators; and desire, in place,
To the author justice, to ourselves but grace.
Our scene is London, ‘cause we would make known,
No country’s mirth is better than our own:
No clime breeds better matter for your whore,
Bawd, squire, impostor, many persons more,
Whose manners, now call’d humours, feed the stage;
And which have still been subject for the rage
Or spleen of comic writers. Though this pen
Did never aim to grieve, but better men;
Howe’er the age he lives in doth endure
The vices that she breeds, above their cure.
But when the wholesome remedies are sweet,
And in their working gain and profit meet,
He hopes to find no spirit so much diseased,
But will with such fair correctives be pleased:
For here he doth not fear who can apply.
If there be any that will sit so nigh
Unto the stream, to look what it doth run,
They shall find things, they’d think or wish were done;
They are so natural follies, but so shewn,
As even the doers may see, and yet not own.
ACT 1
SCENE 1
A ROOM IN LOVEWIT’S HOUSE.
ENTER FACE, IN A CAPTAIN’S UNIFORM, WITH HIS SWORD DRAWN, AND
SUBTLE WITH A VIAL, QUARRELLING, AND FOLLOWED BY DOL COMMON.
FACE. Believe ‘t, I will.
SUB. Thy worst. I fart at thee.
DOL. Have you your wits? why, gentlemen! for love —
FACE. Sirrah, I’ll strip you —
SUB. What to do? lick figs
Out at my —
FACE. Rogue, rogue! — out of all your sleights.
DOL. Nay, look ye, sovereign, general, are you madmen?
SUB. O, let the wild sheep loose. I’ll gum your silks
With good strong water, an you come.
DOL. Will you have
The neighbours hear you? will you betray all?
Hark! I hear somebody.
FACE. Sirrah —
SUB. I shall mar
All that the tailor has made, if you approach.
FACE. You most notorious whelp, you insolent slave,
Dare you do this?
SUB. Yes, faith; yes, faith.
FACE. Why, who
Am I, my mungrel? who am I?
SUB. I’ll tell you.,
Since you know not yourself.
FACE. Speak lower, rogue.
SUB. Yes, you were once (time’s not long past) the good,
Honest, plain, livery-three-pound-thrum, that kept
Your master’s worship’s house here in the Friars,
For the vacations —
FACE. Will you be so loud?
SUB. Since, by my means, translated suburb-captain.
FACE. By your means, doctor dog!
SUB. Within man’s memory,
All this I speak of.
FACE. Why, I pray you, have I
Been countenanced by you, or you by me?
Do but collect, sir, where I met you first.
SUB. I do not hear well.
FACE. Not of this, I think it.
But I shall put you in mind, sir; — at Pie-corner,
Taking your meal of steam in, from cooks’ stalls,
Where, like the father of hunger, you did walk
Piteously costive, with your pinch’d-horn-nose,
And your complexion of the Roman wash,
Stuck full of black and melancholic worms,
Like powder corns shot at the artillery-yard.
SUB. I wish you could advance your voice a little.
FACE. When you went pinn’d up in the several rags
You had raked and pick’d from dunghills, before day;
Your feet in mouldy slippers, for your kibes;
A felt of rug, and a thin threaden cloke,
That scarce would cover your no buttocks —
SUB. So, sir!
FACE. When all your alchemy, and your algebra,
Your minerals, vegetals, and animals,
Your conjuring, cozening, and your dozen of trades,
Could not relieve your corps with so much linen
Would make you tinder, but to see a fire;
I gave you countenance, credit for your coals,
Your stills, your glasses, your materials;
Built you a furnace, drew you customers,
Advanced all your black arts; lent you, beside,
A house to practise in —
SUB. Your master’s house!
FACE. Where you have studied the more thriving skill
Of bawdry since.
SUB. Yes, in your master’s house.
You and the rats here kept possession.
Make it not strange. I know you were one could keep
The buttery-hatch still lock’d, and save the chippings,
Sell the dole beer to aqua-vitae men,
The which, together with your Christmas vails
At post-and-pair, your letting out of counters,
Made you a pretty stock, some twenty marks,
And gave you credit to converse with cobwebs,
Here, since your mistress’ death hath broke up house.
FACE. You might talk softlier, rascal.
SUB. No, you scarab,
I’ll thunder you in pieces: I will teach you
How to beware to tempt a Fury again,
That carries tempest in his hand and voice.
FACE. The place has made you valiant.
SUB. No, your clothes. —
Thou vermin, have I ta’en thee out of dung,
So poor, so wretched, when no living thing
Would keep thee company, but a spider, or worse?
Rais’d thee from brooms, and dust, and watering-pots,
Sublimed thee, and exalted thee, and fix’d thee
In the third region, call’d our state of grace?
Wrought thee to spirit, to quintessence, with pains
Would twice have won me the philosopher’s work?
Put thee in words and fashion, made thee fit
For more than ordinary fellowships?
Giv’n thee thy oaths, thy quarrelling dimensions,
Thy rules to cheat at horse-race, cock-pit, cards,
Dice, or whatever gallant tincture else?
Made thee a second in mine o
wn great art?
And have I this for thanks! Do you rebel,
Do you fly out in the projection?
Would you be gone now?
DOL. Gentlemen, what mean you?
Will you mar all?
SUB. Slave, thou hadst had no name —
DOL. Will you undo yourselves with civil war?
SUB. Never been known, past equi clibanum,
The heat of horse-dung, under ground, in cellars,
Or an ale-house darker than deaf John’s; been lost
To all mankind, but laundresses and tapsters,
Had not I been.
DOL. Do you know who hears you, sovereign?
FACE. Sirrah —
DOL. Nay, general, I thought you were civil.
FACE. I shall turn desperate, if you grow thus loud.
SUB. And hang thyself, I care not.
FACE. Hang thee, collier,
And all thy pots, and pans, in picture, I will,
Since thou hast moved me —
DOL. O, this will o’erthrow all.
FACE. Write thee up bawd in Paul’s, have all thy tricks
Of cozening with a hollow cole, dust, scrapings,
Searching for things lost, with a sieve and sheers,
Erecting figures in your rows of houses,
And taking in of shadows with a glass,
Told in red letters; and a face cut for thee,
Worse than Gamaliel Ratsey’s.
DOL. Are you sound?
Have you your senses, masters?
FACE. I will have
A book, but barely reckoning thy impostures,
Shall prove a true philosopher’s stone to printers.
SUB. Away, you trencher-rascal!
FACE. Out, you dog-leech!
The vomit of all prisons —
DOL. Will you be
Your own destructions, gentlemen?
FACE. Still spew’d out
For lying too heavy on the basket.
SUB. Cheater!
FACE. Bawd!
SUB. Cow-herd!
FACE. Conjurer!
SUB. Cut-purse!
FACE. Witch!
DOL. O me!
We are ruin’d, lost! have you no more regard
To your reputations? where’s your judgment? ‘slight,
Have yet some care of me, of your republic —
FACE. Away, this brach! I’ll bring thee, rogue, within
The statute of sorcery, tricesimo tertio
Of Harry the Eighth: ay, and perhaps thy neck
Within a noose, for laundring gold and barbing it.
DOL [SNATCHES FACE’S SWORD]. You’ll bring your head within
a cockscomb, will you?
And you, sir, with your menstrue —
[DASHES SUBTLE’S VIAL OUT OF HIS HAND.]
Gather it up. —
‘Sdeath, you abominable pair of stinkards,
Leave off your barking, and grow one again,
Or, by the light that shines, I’ll cut your throats.
I’ll not be made a prey unto the marshal,
For ne’er a snarling dog-bolt of you both.
Have you together cozen’d all this while,
And all the world, and shall it now be said,
You’ve made most courteous shift to cozen yourselves?
[TO FACE.]
You will accuse him! you will “bring him in
Within the statute!” Who shall take your word?
A whoreson, upstart, apocryphal captain,
Whom not a Puritan in Blackfriars will trust
So much as for a feather:
[TO SUBTLE.]
and you, too,
Will give the cause, forsooth! you will insult,
And claim a primacy in the divisions!
You must be chief! as if you only had
The powder to project with, and the work
Were not begun out of equality?
The venture tripartite? all things in common?
Without priority? ‘Sdeath! you perpetual curs,
Fall to your couples again, and cozen kindly,
And heartily, and lovingly, as you should,
And lose not the beginning of a term,
Or, by this hand, I shall grow factious too,
And take my part, and quit you.
FACE. ’Tis his fault;
He ever murmurs, and objects his pains,
And says, the weight of all lies upon him.
SUB. Why, so it does.
DOL. How does it? do not we
Sustain our parts?
SUB. Yes, but they are not equal.
DOL. Why, if your part exceed to-day, I hope
Ours may, to-morrow match it.
SUB. Ay, they MAY.
DOL. May, murmuring mastiff! ay, and do. Death on me!
Help me to throttle him.
[SEIZES SUB. BY THE THROAT.]
SUB. Dorothy! mistress Dorothy!
‘Ods precious, I’ll do any thing. What do you mean?
DOL. Because o’ your fermentation and cibation?
SUB. Not I, by heaven —
DOL. Your Sol and Luna
[TO FACE.]
— help me.
SUB. Would I were hang’d then? I’ll conform myself.
DOL. Will you, sir? do so then, and quickly: swear.
SUB. What should I swear?
DOL. To leave your faction, sir,
And labour kindly in the common work.
SUB. Let me not breathe if I meant aught beside.
I only used those speeches as a spur
To him.
DOL. I hope we need no spurs, sir. Do we?
FACE. ‘Slid, prove to-day, who shall shark best.
SUB. Agreed.
DOL. Yes, and work close and friendly.
SUB. ‘Slight, the knot
Shall grow the stronger for this breach, with me.
[THEY SHAKE HANDS.]
DOL. Why, so, my good baboons! Shall we go make
A sort of sober, scurvy, precise neighbours,
That scarce have smiled twice since the king came in,
A feast of laughter at our follies? Rascals,
Would run themselves from breath, to see me ride,
Or you t’ have but a hole to thrust your heads in,
For which you should pay ear-rent? No, agree.
And may don Provost ride a feasting long,
In his old velvet jerkin and stain’d scarfs,
My noble sovereign, and worthy general,
Ere we contribute a new crewel garter
To his most worsted worship.
SUB. Royal Dol!
Spoken like Claridiana, and thyself.
FACE. For which at supper, thou shalt sit in triumph,
And not be styled Dol Common, but Dol Proper,
Dol Singular: the longest cut at night,
Shall draw thee for his Doll Particular.
[BELL RINGS WITHOUT.]
SUB. Who’s that? one rings. To the window, Dol:
[EXIT DOL.]
— pray heaven,
The master do not trouble us this quarter.
FACE. O, fear not him. While there dies one a week
O’ the plague, he’s safe, from thinking toward London.
Beside, he’s busy at his hop-yards now;
I had a letter from him. If he do,
He’ll send such word, for airing of the house,
As you shall have sufficient time to quit it:
Though we break up a fortnight, ’tis no matter.
[RE-ENTER DOL.]
SUB. Who is it, Dol?
DOL. A fine young quodling.
FACE. O,
My lawyer’s clerk, I lighted on last night,
In Holborn, at the Dagger. He would have
(I told you of him) a familiar,
To rifle with at horses, and win cups.
DOL. O, let him in.
SUB. Stay. Who shall do’t?
FACE. Get you
Your robes on: I will meet him as going out.
DOL. And what shall I do?
FACE. Not be seen; away!
[EXIT DOL.]
Seem you very reserv’d.
SUB. Enough.
[EXIT.]
FACE [ALOUD AND RETIRING]. God be wi’ you, sir,
I pray you let him know that I was here:
His name is Dapper. I would gladly have staid, but —
DAP [WITHIN]. Captain, I am here.
FACE. Who’s that? — He’s come, I think, doctor.
[ENTER DAPPER.]
Good faith, sir, I was going away.
DAP. In truth
I am very sorry, captain.
FACE. But I thought
Sure I should meet you.
DAP. Ay, I am very glad.
I had a scurvy writ or two to make,
And I had lent my watch last night to one
That dines to-day at the sheriff’s, and so was robb’d
Of my past-time.
[RE-ENTER SUBTLE IN HIS VELVET CAP AND GOWN.]
Is this the cunning-man?
FACE. This is his worship.
DAP. Is he a doctor?
FACE. Yes.
DAP. And have you broke with him, captain?
FACE. Ay.
DAP. And how?
FACE. Faith, he does make the matter, sir, so dainty
I know not what to say.
DAP. Not so, good captain.
FACE. Would I were fairly rid of it, believe me.
DAP. Nay, now you grieve me, sir. Why should you wish so?
I dare assure you, I’ll not be ungrateful.
FACE. I cannot think you will, sir. But the law
Is such a thing — and then he says, Read’s matter
Falling so lately.
DAP. Read! he was an ass,
And dealt, sir, with a fool.
FACE. It was a clerk, sir.
DAP. A clerk!
FACE. Nay, hear me, sir. You know the law
Better, I think —
DAP. I should, sir, and the danger:
You know, I shewed the statute to you.
FACE. You did so.
DAP. And will I tell then! By this hand of flesh,
Masters of the Theatre Page 46
