The Alchemist · Act I · Scene I (2/2) (2/2)

| Face | You are mistaken, Doctor. Why he does ask one but for cups and horses, A rifling fly; none of your great familiars. | | Dapper | Yes, Captain, I would have it for all games. | | Subtle | I told you so. | | Face | Taking Dapper aside. ’Slight, that is a new business! I understood you, a tame bird, to fly Twice in a term, or so, on Friday nights, When you had left the office, for a nag Of forty or fifty shillings. | | Dapper | Ay, ’tis true, sir; But I do think now I shall leave the law, And therefore⁠— | | Face | Why, this changes quite the case. Do you think that I dare move him? | | Dapper | If you please, sir; All’s one to him, I see. | | Face | What! For that money? I cannot with my conscience; nor should you Make the request, methinks. | | Dapper | No, sir, I mean To add consideration. | | Face | Why then, sir, I’ll try.⁠— Goes to Subtle. Say that it were for all games, Doctor. | | Subtle | I say then, not a mouth shall eat for him At any ordinary, but on the score, That is a gaming mouth, conceive me. | | Face | Indeed! | | Subtle | He’ll draw you all the treasure of the realm, If it be set him. | | Face | Speak you this from art? | | Subtle | Ay, sir, and reason too, the ground of art. He is of the only best complexion, The Queen of Fairy loves. | | Face | What! Is he? | | Subtle | Peace. He’ll overhear you. Sir, should she but see him⁠— | | Face | What? | | Subtle | Do not you tell him. | | Face | Will he win at cards too? | | Subtle | The spirits of dead Holland, living Isaac, You’d swear, were in him; such a vigorous luck As cannot be resisted. ’Slight, he’ll put Six of your gallants to a cloak, indeed. | | Face | A strange success, that some man shall be born to. | | Subtle | He hears you, man⁠— | | Dapper | Sir, I’ll not be ingrateful. | | Face | Faith, I have confidence in his good nature: You hear, he says he will not be ingrateful. | | Subtle | Why, as you please; my venture follows yours. | | Face | Troth, do it, Doctor; think him trusty, and make him. He may make us both happy in an hour; Win some five thousand pound, and send us two on’t. | | Dapper | Believe it, and I will, sir. | | Face | And you shall, sir. Takes him aside. You have heard all? | | Dapper | No, what was’t? Nothing, I, sir. | | Face | Nothing! | | Dapper | A little, sir. | | Face | Well, a rare star Reigned at your birth. | | Dapper | At mine, sir! No. | | Face | The Doctor Swears that you are⁠— | | Subtle | Nay, Captain, you’ll tell all now. | | Face | Allied to the Queen of Fairy. | | Dapper | Who! That I am? Believe it, no such matter⁠— | | Face | Yes, and that You were born with a cawl on your head. | | Dapper | Who says so? | | Face | Come, You know it well enough, though you dissemble it. | | Dapper | I’fac, I do not; you are mistaken. | | Face | How! Swear by your fac, and in a thing so known Unto the Doctor? How shall we, sir, trust you In the other matter? Can we ever think, When you have won five or six thousand pound, You’ll send us shares in’t, by this rate? | | Dapper | By Jove, sir, I’ll win ten thousand pound, and send you half. I’fac’s no oath. | | Subtle | No, no, he did but jest. | | Face | Go to. Go thank the Doctor: he’s your friend, To take it so. | | Dapper | I thank his worship. | | Face | So! Another angel. | | Dapper | Must I? | | Face | Must you! ’Slight, What else is thanks? Will you be trivial?⁠—Doctor, Dapper gives him the money. When must he come for his familiar? | | Dapper | Shall I not have it with me? | | Subtle | O, good sir! There must a world of ceremonies pass; You must be bathed and fumigated first: Besides the Queen of Fairy does not rise Till it be noon. | | Face | Not, if she danced, tonight. | | Subtle | And she must bless it. | | Face | Did you never see Her royal Grace yet? | | Dapper | Whom? | | Face | Your aunt of Fairy? | | Subtle | Not since she kissed him in the cradle, Captain; I can resolve you that. | | Face | Well, see her Grace, Whate’er it cost you, for a thing that I know. It will be somewhat hard to compass; but However, see her. You are made, believe it, If you can see her. Her Grace is a lone woman, And very rich; and if she take a fancy, She will do strange things. See her, at any hand. ’Slid, she may hap to leave you all she has: It is the Doctor’s fear. | | Dapper | How will’t be done, then? | | Face | Let me alone, take you no thought. Do you But say to me, Captain, I’ll see her Grace. | | Dapper | “Captain, I’ll see her Grace.” | | Face | Enough. | | | Knocking within. | | Subtle | Who’s there? Anon. *Aside to Face. —Conduct him forth by the back way.⁠— Sir, against one o’clock prepare yourself; Till when you must be fasting; only take Three drops of vinegar in at your nose, Two at your mouth, and one at either ear; Then bathe your fingers’ ends and wash your eyes, To sharpen your five senses, and cry “hum” Thrice, and then “buz” as often; and then come. | | | Exit. | | Face | Can you remember this? | | Dapper | I warrant you. | | Face | Well then, away. It is but your bestowing Some twenty nobles ’mong her Grace’s servants, And put on a clean shirt: you do not know What grace her Grace may do you in clean linen. | | | Exeunt Face and Dapper. | | Subtle | Within. Come in! Good wives, I pray you forbear me now; Troth I can do you no good till afternoon⁠— | | | Reenters, followed by Drugger. | | | What is your name, say you? Abel Drugger? | | Drugger | Yes, sir. | | Subtle | A seller of tobacco? | | Drugger | Yes, sir. | | Subtle | Umph! Free of the grocers? | | Drugger | Ay, and’t please you. | | Subtle | Well⁠— Your business, Abel? | | Drugger | This, and’t please your worship; I am a young beginner, and am building Of a new shop, and’t like your worship, just At corner of a street:⁠—Here is the plot on’t⁠— And I would know by art, sir, of your worship, Which way I should make my door, by necromancy, And where my shelves; and which should be for boxes, And which for pots. I would be glad to thrive, sir: And I was wished to your worship by a gentleman, One Captain Face, that says you know men’s planets, And their good angels, and their bad. | | Subtle | I do, If I do see them⁠— | | | Reenter Face. | | Face | What! My honest Abel? Though art well met here. | | Drugger | Troth, sir, I was speaking, Just as your worship came here, of your worship: I pray you speak for me to Master Doctor. | | Face | He shall do anything.⁠—Doctor, do you hear? This is my friend, Abel, an honest fellow; He lets me have good tobacco, and he does not Sophisticate it with sack-lees or oil, Nor washes it in muscadel and grains, Nor buries it in gravel, under ground, Wrapped up in greasy leather, or pissed clouts: But keeps it in fine lily pots, that, opened, Smell like conserve of roses, or French beans. He has his maple block, his silver tongs, Winchester pipes, and fire of Juniper: A neat, spruce, honest fellow, and no goldsmith. | | Subtle | He is a fortunate fellow, that I am sure on. | | Face | Already, sir, have you found it? Lo thee, Abel! | | Subtle | And in right way toward riches⁠— | | Face | Sir! | | Subtle | This summer He will be of the clothing of his company, And next spring called to the scarlet; spend what he can. | | Face | What, and so little beard? | | Subtle | Sir, you must think, He may have a receipt to make hair come: But he’ll be wise, preserve his youth, and fine for’t; His fortune looks for him another way. | | Face | ’Slid, Doctor, how canst thou know this so soon? I am amused at that! | | Subtle | By a rule, Captain, In metoposcopy, which I do work by; A certain star in the forehead, which you see not. Your chestnut or your olive-coloured face Does never fail: and your long ear doth promise. I knew’t by certain spots, too, in his teeth, And on the nail of his mercurial finger. | | Face | Which finger’s that? | | Subtle | His little finger. Look. You were born upon a Wednesday? | | Drugger | Yes, indeed, sir. | | Subtle | The thumb, in chiromancy, we give Venus; The forefinger, to Jove; the midst, to Saturn; The ring, to Sol; the least, to Mercury, Who was the lord, sir, of his horoscope, His house of life being Libra; which foreshowed, He should be a merchant, and should trade with balance. | | Face | Why, this is strange! Is it not, honest Nab? | | Subtle | There is a ship now, coming from Ormus, That shall yield him such a commodity Of drugs Pointing to the plan. —This is the west, and this the south? | | Drugger | Yes, sir. | | Subtle | And those are your two sides? | | Drugger | Ay, sir. | | Subtle | Make me your door, then, south; your broad side, west: And on the east side of your shop, aloft, Write Mathlai, Tarmiel, and Baraborat; Upon the north part, Rael, Velel, Thiel. They are the names of those mercurial spirits, That do fright flies from boxes. | | Drugger | Yes, sir. | | Subtle | And Beneath your threshold, bury me a loadstone To draw in gallants that wear spurs: the rest, They’ll seem to follow. | | Face | That’s a secret, Nab! | | Subtle | And, on your stall, a puppet, with a vice And a court-fucus to call city-dames: You shall deal much with minerals. | | Drugger | Sir, I have. At home, already⁠— | | Subtle | Ay, I know you have arsenic, Vitriol, sal-tartar, argaile, alkali, Cinoper: I know all.⁠—This fellow, Captain, Will come, in time, to be a great distiller, And give a say⁠—I will not say directly, But very fair⁠—at the philosopher’s stone. | | Face | Why, how now, Abel! Is this true? | | Drugger | Aside to Face. Good Captain, What must I give? | | Face | Nay, I’ll not counsel thee. Thou hear’st what wealth (he says, spend what thou canst,) Thou’rt like to come to. | | Drugger | I would gi’ him a crown. | | Face | A crown! And toward such a fortune? Heart, Thou shalt rather gi’ him thy shop. No gold about thee? | | Drugger | Yes, I have a portague, I have kept this half-year. | | Face | Out on thee, Nab! ’Slight, there was such an offer⁠— Shalt keep’t no longer, I’ll give’t him for thee. Doctor, Nab prays your worship to drink this, and swears He will appear more grateful, as your skill Does raise him in the world. | | Drugger | I would entreat Another favour of his worship. | | Face | What is’t, Nab? | | Drugger | But to look over, sir, my almanac, And cross out my ill-days, that I may neither Bargain, nor trust upon them. | | Face | That he shall, Nab: Leave it, it shall be done, ’gainst afternoon. | | Subtle | And a direction for his shelves. | | Face | Now, Nab, Art thou well pleased, Nab? | | Drugger | ’Thank, sir, both your worships. | | Face | Away. | | | Exit Drugger. | | | Why, now, you smoaky persecutor of nature! Now do you see, that something’s to be done, Beside your beech-coal, and your corsive waters, Your crosslets, crucibles, and cucurbites? You must have stuff brought home to you, to work on: And yet you think, I am at no expense In searching out these veins, then following them, Then trying them out. ’Fore God, my intelligence Costs me more money, than my share oft comes to, In these rare works. | | Subtle | You are pleasant, sir. | | | Reenter *Dol. | | | —How now! What says my dainty Dolkin? | | Dol Common | Yonder fishwife Will not away. And there’s your giantess, The bawd of Lambeth. | | Subtle | Heart, I cannot speak with them. | | Dol Common | Not afore night, I have told them in a voice, Thorough the trunk, like one of your familiars. But I have spied sir Epicure Mammon⁠— | | Subtle | Where? | | Dol Common | Coming along, at far end of the lane, Slow of his feet, but earnest of his tongue To one that’s with him. | | Subtle | Face, go you and shift. | | | Exit Face.* | | | Dol, you must presently make ready, too. | | Dol Common | Why, what’s the matter? | | Subtle | O, I did look for him With the sun’s rising: ’marvel he could sleep, This is the day I am to perfect for him The magisterium, our great work, the stone; And yield it, made, into his hands: of which He has, this month, talked as he were possessed. And now he’s dealing pieces on’t away.⁠— Methinks I see him entering ordinaries, Dispensing for the pox, and plaguey houses, Reaching his dose, walking Moorfields for lepers, And offering citizens’ wives pomander-bracelets, As his preservative, made of the elixir; Searching the spittal, to make old bawds young; And the highways, for beggars, to make rich. I see no end of his labours. He will make Nature ashamed of her long sleep: when art, Who’s but a step-dame, shall do more than she, In her best love to mankind, ever could: If his dream lasts, he’ll turn the age to gold. | | | Exeunt.* |