Masters of the Theatre

by Delphi Classics

  SUB. Ods so! ’tis he, he said he would send what call you him?

  The sanctified elder, that should deal

  For Mammon’s jack and andirons. Let him in.

  Stay, help me off, first, with my gown.

  [EXIT FACE WITH THE GOWN.]

  Away,

  Madam, to your withdrawing chamber.

  [EXIT DOL.]

  Now,

  In a new tune, new gesture, but old language. —

  This fellow is sent from one negociates with me

  About the stone too, for the holy brethren

  Of Amsterdam, the exiled saints, that hope

  To raise their discipline by it. I must use him

  In some strange fashion, now, to make him admire me. —

  [ENTER ANANIAS.]

  [ALOUD.]

  Where is my drudge?

  [RE-ENTER FACE.]

  FACE. Sir!

  SUB. Take away the recipient,

  And rectify your menstrue from the phlegma.

  Then pour it on the Sol, in the cucurbite,

  And let them macerate together.

  FACE. Yes, sir.

  And save the ground?

  SUB. No: terra damnata

  Must not have entrance in the work. — Who are you?

  ANA. A faithful brother, if it please you.

  SUB. What’s that?

  A Lullianist? a Ripley? Filius artis?

  Can you sublime and dulcify? calcine?

  Know you the sapor pontic? sapor stiptic?

  Or what is homogene, or heterogene?

  ANA. I understand no heathen language, truly.

  SUB. Heathen! you Knipper-doling? is Ars sacra,

  Or chrysopoeia, or spagyrica,

  Or the pamphysic, or panarchic knowledge,

  A heathen language?

  ANA. Heathen Greek, I take it.

  SUB. How! heathen Greek?

  ANA. All’s heathen but the Hebrew.

  SUB. Sirrah, my varlet, stand you forth and speak to him,

  Like a philosopher: answer in the language.

  Name the vexations, and the martyrisations

  Of metals in the work.

  FACE. Sir, putrefaction,

  Solution, ablution, sublimation,

  Cohobation, calcination, ceration, and

  Fixation.

  SUB. This is heathen Greek to you, now! —

  And when comes vivification?

  FACE. After mortification.

  SUB. What’s cohobation?

  FACE. ’Tis the pouring on

  Your aqua regis, and then drawing him off,

  To the trine circle of the seven spheres.

  SUB. What’s the proper passion of metals?

  FACE. Malleation.

  SUB. What’s your ultimum supplicium auri?

  FACE. Antimonium.

  SUB. This is heathen Greek to you! — And what’s your mercury?

  FACE. A very fugitive, he will be gone, sir.

  SUB. How know you him?

  FACE. By his viscosity,

  His oleosity, and his suscitability.

  SUB. How do you sublime him?

  FACE. With the calce of egg-shells,

  White marble, talc.

  SUB. Your magisterium now,

  What’s that?

  FACE. Shifting, sir, your elements,

  Dry into cold, cold into moist, moist into hot,

  Hot into dry.

  SUB. This is heathen Greek to you still!

  Your lapis philosophicus?

  FACE. ’Tis a stone,

  And not a stone; a spirit, a soul, and a body:

  Which if you do dissolve, it is dissolved;

  If you coagulate, it is coagulated;

  If you make it to fly, it flieth.

  SUB. Enough.

  [EXIT FACE.]

  This is heathen Greek to you! What are you, sir?

  ANA. Please you, a servant of the exiled brethren,

  That deal with widows’ and with orphans’ goods,

  And make a just account unto the saints:

  A deacon.

  SUB. O, you are sent from master Wholesome,

  Your teacher?

  ANA. From Tribulation Wholesome,

  Our very zealous pastor.

  SUB. Good! I have

  Some orphans’ goods to come here.

  ANA. Of what kind, sir?

  SUB. Pewter and brass, andirons and kitchen-ware,

  Metals, that we must use our medicine on:

  Wherein the brethren may have a pennyworth

  For ready money.

  ANA. Were the orphans’ parents

  Sincere professors?

  SUB. Why do you ask?

  ANA. Because

  We then are to deal justly, and give, in truth,

  Their utmost value.

  SUB. ‘Slid, you’d cozen else,

  And if their parents were not of the faithful! —

  I will not trust you, now I think on it,

  ‘Till I have talked with your pastor. Have you brought money

  To buy more coals?

  ANA. No, surely.

  SUB. No! how so?

  ANA. The brethren bid me say unto you, sir,

  Surely, they will not venture any more,

  Till they may see projection.

  SUB. How!

  ANA. You have had,

  For the instruments, as bricks, and lome, and glasses,

  Already thirty pound; and for materials,

  They say, some ninety more: and they have heard since,

  That one at Heidelberg, made it of an egg,

  And a small paper of pin-dust.

  SUB. What’s your name?

  ANA. My name is Ananias.

  SUB. Out, the varlet

  That cozen’d the apostles! Hence, away!

  Flee, mischief! had your holy consistory

  No name to send me, of another sound,

  Than wicked Ananias? send your elders

  Hither to make atonement for you quickly,

  And give me satisfaction; or out goes

  The fire; and down th’ alembics, and the furnace,

  Piger Henricus, or what not. Thou wretch!

  Both sericon and bufo shall be lost,

  Tell them. All hope of rooting out the bishops,

  Or the antichristian hierarchy, shall perish,

  If they stay threescore minutes: the aqueity,

  Terreity, and sulphureity

  Shall run together again, and all be annull’d,

  Thou wicked Ananias!

  [EXIT ANANIAS.]

  This will fetch ‘em,

  And make them haste towards their gulling more.

  A man must deal like a rough nurse, and fright

  Those that are froward, to an appetite.

  [RE-ENTER FACE, IN HIS UNIFORM, FOLLOWED BY DRUGGER.]

  FACE. He is busy with his spirits, but we’ll upon him.

  SUB. How now! what mates, what Baiards have we here?

  FACE. I told you, he would be furious. — Sir, here’s Nab,

  Has brought you another piece of gold to look on:

  — We must appease him. Give it me, — and prays you,

  You would devise — what is it, Nab?

  DRUG. A sign, sir.

  FACE. Ay, a good lucky one, a thriving sign, doctor.

  SUB. I was devising now.

  FACE. ‘Slight, do not say so,

  He will repent he gave you any more —

  What say you to his constellation, doctor,

  The Balance?

  SUB. No, that way is stale, and common.

  A townsman born in Taurus, gives the bull,

  Or the bull’s-head: in Aries, the ram,

  A poor device! No, I will have his name

  Form’d in some mystic character; whose radii,

  Striking the senses of the passers by,

  Shall, by a virtual influence, breed affections,

  That may result upon the party owns
it:

  As thus —

  FACE. Nab!

  SUB. He shall have “a bell,” that’s “Abel;”

  And by it standing one whose name is “Dee,”

  In a “rug” gown, there’s “D,” and “Rug,” that’s “drug:”

  And right anenst him a dog snarling “er;”

  There’s “Drugger,” Abel Drugger. That’s his sign.

  And here’s now mystery and hieroglyphic!

  FACE. Abel, thou art made.

  DRUG. Sir, I do thank his worship.

  FACE. Six o’ thy legs more will not do it, Nab.

  He has brought you a pipe of tobacco, doctor.

  DRUG. Yes, sir;

  I have another thing I would impart —

  FACE. Out with it, Nab.

  DRUG. Sir, there is lodged, hard by me,

  A rich young widow —

  FACE. Good! a bona roba?

  DRUG. But nineteen, at the most.

  FACE. Very good, Abel.

  DRUG. Marry, she’s not in fashion yet; she wears

  A hood, but it stands a cop.

  FACE. No matter, Abel.

  DRUG. And I do now and then give her a fucus —

  FACE. What! dost thou deal, Nab?

  SUB. I did tell you, captain.

  DRUG. And physic too, sometime, sir; for which she trusts me

  With all her mind. She’s come up here of purpose

  To learn the fashion.

  FACE. Good (his match too!) — On, Nab.

  DRUG. And she does strangely long to know her fortune.

  FACE. Ods lid, Nab, send her to the doctor, hither.

  DRUG. Yes, I have spoke to her of his worship already;

  But she’s afraid it will be blown abroad,

  And hurt her marriage.

  FACE. Hurt it! ’tis the way

  To heal it, if ‘twere hurt; to make it more

  Follow’d and sought: Nab, thou shalt tell her this.

  She’ll be more known, more talk’d of; and your widows

  Are ne’er of any price till they be famous;

  Their honour is their multitude of suitors.

  Send her, it may be thy good fortune. What!

  Thou dost not know.

  DRUG. No, sir, she’ll never marry

  Under a knight: her brother has made a vow.

  FACE. What! and dost thou despair, my little Nab,

  Knowing what the doctor has set down for thee,

  And seeing so many of the city dubb’d?

  One glass o’ thy water, with a madam I know,

  Will have it done, Nab: what’s her brother, a knight?

  DRUG. No, sir, a gentleman newly warm in his land, sir,

  Scarce cold in his one and twenty, that does govern

  His sister here; and is a man himself

  Of some three thousand a year, and is come up

  To learn to quarrel, and to live by his wits,

  And will go down again, and die in the country.

  FACE. How! to quarrel?

  DRUG. Yes, sir, to carry quarrels,

  As gallants do; to manage them by line.

  FACE. ‘Slid, Nab, the doctor is the only man

  In Christendom for him. He has made a table,

  With mathematical demonstrations,

  Touching the art of quarrels: he will give him

  An instrument to quarrel by. Go, bring them both,

  Him and his sister. And, for thee, with her

  The doctor happ’ly may persuade. Go to:

  ‘Shalt give his worship a new damask suit

  Upon the premises.

  SUB. O, good captain!

  FACE. He shall;

  He is the honestest fellow, doctor. — Stay not,

  No offers; bring the damask, and the parties.

  DRUG. I’ll try my power, sir.

  FACE. And thy will too, Nab.

  SUB. ’Tis good tobacco, this! What is’t an ounce?

  FACE. He’ll send you a pound, doctor.

  SUB. O no.

  FACE. He will do’t.

  It is the goodest soul! — Abel, about it.

  Thou shalt know more anon. Away, be gone.

  [EXIT ABEL.]

  A miserable rogue, and lives with cheese,

  And has the worms. That was the cause, indeed,

  Why he came now: he dealt with me in private,

  To get a med’cine for them.

  SUB. And shall, sir. This works.

  FACE. A wife, a wife for one on us, my dear Subtle!

  We’ll e’en draw lots, and he that fails, shall have

  The more in goods, the other has in tail.

  SUB. Rather the less: for she may be so light

  She may want grains.

  FACE. Ay, 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.

  FACE. Content: but Dol must have no breath on’t.

  SUB. Mum.

  Away you, to your Surly yonder, catch him.

  FACE. ‘Pray God I have not staid too long.

  SUB. I fear it.

  [EXEUNT.]

  ACT 3

  SCENE 1

  THE LANE BEFORE LOVEWIT’S HOUSE.

  ENTER TRIBULATION WHOLESOME AND ANANIAS.

  TRI. These chastisements are common to the saints,

  And such rebukes, we of the separation

  Must bear with willing shoulders, as the trials

  Sent forth to tempt our frailties.

  ANA. In pure zeal,

  I do not like the man; he is a heathen,

  And speaks the language of Canaan, truly.

  TRI. I think him a profane person indeed.

  ANA. He bears

  The visible mark of the beast in his forehead.

  And for his stone, it is a work of darkness,

  And with philosophy blinds the eyes of man.

  TRI. Good brother, we must bend unto all means,

  That may give furtherance to the holy cause.

  ANA. Which his cannot: the sanctified cause

  Should have a sanctified course.

  TRI. Not always necessary:

  The children of perdition are oft-times

  Made instruments even of the greatest works:

  Beside, we should give somewhat to man’s nature,

  The place he lives in, still about the fire,

  And fume of metals, that intoxicate

  The brain of man, and make him prone to passion.

  Where have you greater atheists than your cooks?

  Or more profane, or choleric, than your glass-men?

  More antichristian than your bell-founders?

  What makes the devil so devilish, I would ask you,

  Sathan, our common enemy, but his being

  Perpetually about the fire, and boiling

  Brimstone and arsenic? We must give, I say,

  Unto the motives, and the stirrers up

  Of humours in the blood. It may be so,

  When as the work is done, the stone is made,

  This heat of his may turn into a zeal,

  And stand up for the beauteous discipline,

  Against the menstruous cloth and rag of Rome.

  We must await his calling, and the coming

  Of the good spirit. You did fault, t’ upbraid him

  With the brethren’s blessing of Heidelberg, weighing

  What need we have to hasten on the work,

  For the restoring of the silenced saints,

  Which ne’er will be, but by the philosopher’s stone.

  And so a learned elder, one of Scotland,

  Assured me; aurum potabile being

  The only med’cine, for the civil magistrate,

  T’ incline him to a feeling of the cause;

  And must be daily used in the disease.

  ANA. I have not edified more, truly, by man;

  Not since the beautiful light first shone on me:


  And I am sad my zeal 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!

  [THE DOOR IS OPENED, AND THEY ENTER.]

  SCENE 2

  A ROOM IN LOVEWIT’S HOUSE.

  ENTER SUBTLE, FOLLOWED BY TRIBULATION AND ANANIAS.

  SUB. O, are you come? ’twas time. Your threescore minutes

  Were at last thread, you see: and down had gone

  Furnus acediae, turris circulatorius:

  Lembec, bolt’s-head, retort and pelican

  Had all been cinders. — Wicked Ananias!

  Art thou return’d? nay then, it goes down yet.

  TRI. Sir, be appeased; he is come to humble

  Himself in spirit, and to ask your patience,

  If too much zeal hath carried him aside

  From the due path.

  SUB. Why, this doth qualify!

  TRI. The brethren had no purpose, verily,

  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 orphans’ goods, let them be valued,

  Or what is needful else to the holy work,

  It shall be numbered; here, by me, the saints,

  Throw down 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,

  And of the good that it shall bring your cause?

  Shew’d you (beside the main of hiring forces

  Abroad, drawing the Hollanders, your friends,

  From the Indies, to serve you, with all their fleet)

  That even the med’cinal use shall make you a faction,

  And party in the realm? As, put the case,

  That some great man in state, he have the gout,

  Why, you but send three drops of your elixir,

  You help him straight: there you have made a friend.

  Another has the palsy or the dropsy,

  He takes of your incombustible stuff,

  He’s young again: there you have made a friend,

  A lady that is past the feat of body,

  Though not of mind, and hath her face decay’d

  Beyond all cure of paintings, you restore,

  With the oil of talc: 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 them smooth and sound,

  With a bare fricace of your med’cine: still

  You increase your friends.

  TRI. Ay, it is very pregnant.

  SUB. And then the turning of this lawyer’s pewter

  To plate at Christmas. —