[Going]

 

MAM.

Stay, knave.

FAC.

He's extreme angry, that you saw her, sir.

MAM.

Drink that.

 

[Giving money]

 

What is she, when she's out of her fit?

FAC.

Oh, the most affablest creature, sir! So merry!

So pleasant! She'll mount you up, like quick-silver,

Over the helm; and circulate, like oil,

A very vegetal: discourse of state,

Of mathematics, bawdry, anything –

MAM.

Is she no way accessible? No means,

No trick, to give a man a taste of her – wit –

Or so? –

SUB [Within]

Ulen!

FAC.

I'll come to you again, sir.

 

[Exit]

 

MAM.

Surly, I did not think one o' your breeding

Would traduce personages of worth.

SUR.

Sir Epicure,

Your friend to use: yet still loth to be gulled.

I do not like your philosophical bawds.

Their stone is lechery enough to pay for,

Without this bait.

MAM.

'Heart, you abuse yourself.

I know the lady, and her friends, and means,

The original of this disaster. Her brother

Has told me all.

SUR.

And yet, you ne'er saw her

Till now?

MAM.

Oh, yes, but I forgot. I have (believe it)

One o'the treacherou'st memories, I do think,

Of all mankind.

SUR.

What call you her, brother?

MAM.

My lord –

He wi'not have his name known, now I think on't.

SUR.

A very treacherous memory!

MAM.

O' my faith –

SUR.

Tut, if you ha' it not about you, pass it,

Till we meet next.

MAM.

Nay, by this hand, 'tis true.

He's one I honour, and my noble friend,

And I respect his house.

SUR.

Heart! Can it be,

That a grave sir, a rich, that has no need,

A wise sir, too, at other times, should thus

With his own oaths and arguments make hard means

To gull himself? And this be your elixir,

Your lapis mineralis, and your lunary,

Give me your honest trick yet, at primero,

Or gleek; and take your lutum sapientis,

Your menstruum simplex: I'll have gold before you

And with less danger of the quick-silver;

Or the hot sulphur.

 

[Enter Face]

 

FAC [To Surly]

Here's one from Captain Face, sir,

Desires you meet him i'the Temple church,

Some half hour hence, and upon earnest business.

 

(He whispers Mammon)

 

Sir, if you please to quit us now; and come

Again, within two hours; you shall have

My master busy examining o' the works;

And I will steal you in, unto the party,

That you may see her converse. Sir, shall I say,

You'll meet the Captain's worship?

SUR.

Sir, I will.

 

[He walks aside]

 

But, by attorney, and to a second purpose.

Now, I am sure, it is a bawdy-house;

I'll swear it, were the marshal here, to thank me:

The naming this Commander doth confirm it.

Don Face! Why, he's the most authentic dealer

I' these commodities! The superintendent

To all the queinter traffickers in town.

He is their Visitor, and does appoint

Who lies with whom; and at what hour; what price;

Which gown; and in what smock; what fall; what tire.

Him will I prove, by a third person, to find

The subtleties of this dark labyrinth:

Which, if I do discover, dear Sir Mammon,

You'll give your poor friend leave, though no philosopher,

To laugh: for you that are, 'tis thought, shall weep.

FAC.

Sir. He does pray, you'll not forget.

SUR.

I will not, sir.

Sir Epicure, I shall leave you?

MAM.

I follow you, straight.

 

[Exit Surly]

 

FAC.

But do so, good sir, to avoid suspicion.

This gent'man has a parlous head.

MAM.

But wilt thou, Ulen,

Be constant to thy promise?

FAC.

As my life, sir.

MAM.

And wilt thou insinuate what I am? And praise me?

And say I am a noble fellow?

FAC.

Oh, what else, sir?

And that you'll make her royal, with the stone,

An empress; and yourself king of Bantam.

MAM.

Wilt thou do this?

FAC.

Will I, sir?

MAM.

Lungs, my Lungs!

I love thee.

FAC.

Send your stuff, sir, that my master

May busy himself, about projection.

MAM.

Th'hast witched me, rogue: take, go.

 

[Giving money]

 

FAC.

Your jack and all, sir.

MAM.

Thou art a villain – I will send my jack;

And the weights too. Slave, I could bite thine ear.

Away, thou dost not care for me.

FAC.

Not I, sir?

MAM.

Come, I was born to make thee, my good weasel;

Set thee on a bench; and, ha' thee twirl a chain

With the best lord's vermin, of 'em all.

FAC.

Away, sir.

MAM.

A Count, nay, a Count Palatine –

FAC.

Good sir, go.

MAM.

Shall not advance thee better: no, nor faster.

 

[Exit]

 

 

Scene 4

Enter Subtle, Dol

 

SUB.

Has he bit? Has he bit?

FAC.

And swallowed too, my Subtle.

I ha' given him line, and now he plays, 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 firks mad.

SUB.

Dol, my lord Whats'hum's sister, you must now

Bear yourself statelich.

DOL.

Oh, let me alone.

I'll not forget my race, I warrant you.

I'll keep my distance, laugh, and talk aloud;

Have all the tricks of a proud scurvy lady,

And be as rude as her woman.

FAC.

Well said, Sanguine.

SUB.

But will he send his andirons?

FAC.

His jack too;

And's iron shoeing-horn: I ha' spoke to him. Well,

I must not loose my wary gamester, yonder.

SUB.

Oh Monsieur Caution, that will not be gulled?

FAC.

Aye, if I can strike a fine hook into him, now,

The Temple church, there I have cast mine angle.

Well, pray for me. I'll about it.

 

(One knocks)

 

SUB.

What, more gudgeons!

Dol, scout, scout;

 

[Dol goes to window]

 

stay Face, you must go to the door:

'Pray God, it be my Anabaptist. Who is't, Dol?

DOL.

I know him not. He looks like a gold-end-man.

SUB.

Gods 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 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 negotiates with me

About the stone, too; for the holy Brethren

Of Amsterdam, the exiled Saints: that hope

To raise their discipline by it.