That's his sign.

And here's now mystery, and hieroglyphic!

FAC.

Abel, thou art made.

DRU.

Sir, I do thank his worship.

FAC.

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

He has brought you a pipe of tobacco, Doctor.

DRU.

Yes, sir:

I have another thing I would impart –

FAC.

Out with it, Nab.

DRU.

Sir, there is lodged, hard by me,

A rich young widow –

FAC.

Good! A bona roba?

DRU.

But nineteen, at the most.

FAC.

Very good, Abel.

DRU.

Marry, she's not in fashion, yet; she wears

A hood: but 't stands a cop.

FAC.

No matter, Abel.

DRU.

And I do, now and then, give her a fucus –

FAC.

What! Dost thou deal, Nab?

SUB.

I did tell you, Captain.

DRU.

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.

FAC.

Good (his match too!) on, Nab.

DRU.

And she does strangely long to know her fortune.

FAC.

God's lid, Nab, send her to the Doctor, hither.

DRU.

Yes, I have spoke to her of his worship, already:

But she's afraid it will be blown abroad,

And hurt her marriage.

FAC.

Hurt it? 'Tis the way

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

Followed, and sought: Nab, thou shalt tell her this.

She'll be more known, more talked 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.

DRU.

No, sir, she'll never marry

Under a knight. Her brother has made a vow.

FAC.

What, and dost thou despair, my little Nab,

Knowing what the Doctor has set down for thee,

And seeing so many o'the city dubbed?

One glass o' thy water, with a Madam I know,

Will have it done, Nab. What's her brother? A knight?

DRU.

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 i'the country,

FAC.

How! To quarrel?

DRU.

Yes, sir, to carry quarrels,

As gallants do, and manage 'em, by line.

FAC.

'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 'em, 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.

Oh, good Captain.

FAC.

He shall,

He is the honestest fellow, Doctor. Stay not,

No offers, bring the damask, and the parties.

DRU.

I'll try my power, sir.

FAC.

And thy will too, Nab.

SUB.

'Tis good tobacco this! What is't an ounce?

FAC.

He'll send you a pound, Doctor.

SUB.

Oh, no.

FAC.

He will do't.

It is the goodest soul. Abel, about it.

(Thou shalt know more anon. Away, be gone.)

 

[Exit Drugger]

 

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 medicine for 'em.

SUB.

And shall, sir. This works.

FAC.

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.