DOL. "A wisdom, which Pythagoras held most high" -- MAM. Sweet honourable lady!

DOL. "To comprise All sounds of voices, in few marks of letters" -- FACE. Nay, you must never hope to lay her now.

[THEY ALL SPEAK TOGETHER.]

DOL. "And so we may arrive by Talmud skill, And profane Greek, to raise the building up Of Helen's house against the Ismaelite, King of Thogarma, and his habergions Brimstony, blue, and fiery; and the force Of king Abaddon, and the beast of Cittim: Which rabbi David Kimchi, Onkelos, And Aben Ezra do interpret Rome."

FACE. How did you put her into't?

MAM. Alas, I talk'd Of a fifth monarchy I would erect, With the philosopher's stone, by chance, and she Falls on the other four straight.

FACE. Out of Broughton! I told you so. 'Slid, stop her mouth.

MAM. Is't best?

FACE. She'll never leave else. If the old man hear her, We are but faeces, ashes.

SUB [WITHIN]. What's to do there?

FACE. O, we are lost! Now she hears him, she is quiet.

[ENTER SUBTLE, THEY RUN DIFFERENT WAYS.]

MAM. Where shall I hide me!

SUB. How! what sight is here? Close deeds of darkness, and that shun the light! Bring him again. Who is he? What, my son! O, I have lived too long.

MAM. Nay, good, dear father, There was no unchaste purpose.

SUB. Not? and flee me When I come in?

MAM. That was my error.

SUB. Error? Guilt, guilt, my son: give it the right name. No marvel, If I found check in our great work within, When such affairs as these were managing!

MAM. Why, have you so?

SUB. It has stood still this half hour: And all the rest of our less works gone back. Where is the instrument of wickedness, My lewd false drudge?

MAM. Nay, good sir, blame not him; Believe me, 'twas against his will or knowledge: I saw her by chance.

SUB. Will you commit more sin, To excuse a varlet?

MAM. By my hope, 'tis true, sir.

SUB. Nay, then I wonder less, if you, for whom The blessing was prepared, would so tempt heaven, And lose your fortunes.

MAM. Why, sir?

SUB. This will r.e.t.a.r.d The work a month at least.

MAM. Why, if it do, What remedy? But think it not, good father: Our purposes were honest.

SUB. As they were, So the reward will prove. [A LOUD EXPLOSION WITHIN.] -- How now! ah me! G.o.d, and all saints be good to us. -- [RE-ENTER FACE.] What's that?

FACE. O, sir, we are defeated! all the works Are flown in fumo, every gla.s.s is burst; Furnace, and all rent down, as if a bolt Of thunder had been driven through the house. Retorts, receivers, pelicans, bolt-heads, All struck in shivers! [SUBTLE FALLS DOWN AS IN A SWOON.] Help, good sir! alas, Coldness and death invades him. Nay, sir Mammon, Do the fair offices of a man! you stand, As you were readier to depart than he. [KNOCKING WITHIN.] Who's there? my lord her brother is come.

MAM. Ha, Lungs!

FACE. His coach is at the door. Avoid his sight, For he's as furious as his sister's mad.

MAM. Alas!

FACE. My brain is quite undone with the fume, sir, I ne'er must hope to be mine own man again.

MAM. Is all lost, Lungs? will nothing be preserv'd Of all our cost?

FACE. Faith, very little, sir; A peck of coals or so, which is cold comfort, sir.

MAM. O, my voluptuous mind! I am justly punish'd.

FACE. And so am I, sir.

MAM. Cast from all my hopes -- FACE. Nay, certainties, sir.

MAM. By mine own base affections.

SUB [SEEMING TO COME TO HIMSELF]. O, the curst fruits of vice and l.u.s.t!

MAM. Good father, It was my sin. Forgive it.

SUB. Hangs my roof Over us still, and will not fall, O justice, Upon us, for this wicked man!

FACE. Nay, look, sir, You grieve him now with staying in his sight: Good sir, the n.o.bleman will come too, and take you, And that may breed a tragedy.

MAM. I'll go.

FACE. Ay, and repent at home, sir. It may be, For some good penance you may have it yet; A hundred pound to the box at Bethlem -- MAM. Yes.

FACE. For the restoring such as -- have their wits.

MAM. I'll do't.

FACE. I'll send one to you to receive it.

MAM. Do. Is no projection left?

FACE. All flown, or stinks, sir.

MAM. Will nought be sav'd that's good for med'cine, think'st thou?

FACE. I cannot tell, sir. There will be perhaps, Something about the sc.r.a.ping of the shards, Will cure the itch, -- though not your itch of mind, sir. [ASIDE.] It shall be saved for you, and sent home. Good sir, This way, for fear the lord should meet you.

[EXIT MAMMON.]

SUB [RAISING HIS HEAD]. Face!

FACE. Ay.

SUB. Is he gone?

FACE. Yes, and as heavily As all the gold he hoped for were in's blood. Let us be light though.

SUB [LEAPING UP]. Ay, as b.a.l.l.s, and bound And hit our heads against the roof for joy: There's so much of our care now cast away.

FACE. Now to our don.

SUB. Yes, your young widow by this time Is made a countess, Face; she has been in travail Of a young heir for you.

FACE. Good sir.

SUB. Off with your case, And greet her kindly, as a bridegroom should, After these common hazards.

FACE. Very well, sir. Will you go fetch Don Diego off, the while?

SUB. And fetch him over too, if you'll be pleased, sir: Would Dol were in her place, to pick his pockets now!

FACE. Why, you can do't as well, if you would set to't. I pray you prove your virtue.

SUB. For your sake sir.

[EXEUNT.]

SCENE 4.4.

ANOTHER ROOM IN THE SAME.

[ENTER SURLY AND DAME PLIANT.]

SUR. Lady, you see into what hands you are fall'n; 'Mongst what a nest of villains! and how near Your honour was t' have catch'd a certain clap, Through your credulity, had I but been So punctually forward, as place, time, And other circ.u.mstances would have made a man; For you're a handsome woman: would you were wise too! I am a gentleman come here disguised, Only to find the knaveries of this citadel; And where I might have wrong'd your honour, and have not, I claim some interest in your love. You are, They say, a widow, rich: and I'm a batchelor, Worth nought: your fortunes may make me a man, As mine have preserv'd you a woman. Think upon it, And whether I have deserv'd you or no.

DAME P. I will, sir.

SUR. And for these household-rogues, let me alone To treat with them.

[ENTER SUBTLE.]

SUB. How doth my n.o.ble Diego, And my dear madam countess? hath the count Been courteous, lady? liberal, and open? Donzel, methinks you look melancholic, After your coitum, and scurvy: truly, I do not like the dulness of your eye; It hath a heavy cast, 'tis upsee Dutch, And says you are a lumpish wh.o.r.e-master. Be lighter, and I will make your pockets so. [ATTEMPTS TO PICK THEM.]

SUR [THROWS OPEN HIS CLOAK]. Will you, don bawd and pickpurse? [STRIKES HIM DOWN.] how now! reel you? Stand up, sir, you shall find, since I am so heavy, I'll give you equal weight.

SUB. Help! murder!

SUR. No, sir, There's no such thing intended: a good cart, And a clean whip shall ease you of that fear. I am the Spanish don "that should be cozen'd, Do you see, cozen'd?" Where's your Captain Face, That parcel broker, and whole-bawd, all rascal!

[ENTER FACE, IN HIS UNIFORM.]

FACE. How, Surly!

SUR. O, make your approach, good captain. I have found from whence your copper rings and spoons Come, now, wherewith you cheat abroad in taverns. 'Twas here you learned t' anoint your boot with brimstone, Then rub men's gold on't for a kind of touch, And say 'twas naught, when you had changed the colour, That you might have't for nothing. And this doctor, Your sooty, smoky-bearded compeer, he Will close you so much gold, in a bolt's-head, And, on a turn, convey in the stead another With sublimed mercury, that shall burst in the heat, And fly out all in fumo! Then weeps Mammon; Then swoons his worship. [FACE SLIPS OUT.] Or, he is the Faustus, That casteth figures and can conjure, cures Plagues, piles, and pox, by the ephemerides, And holds intelligence with all the bawds And midwives of three shires: while you send in -- Captain! -- what! is he gone? -- damsels with child, Wives that are barren, or the waiting-maid With the green sickness. [SEIZES SUBTLE AS HE IS RETIRING.] -- Nay, sir, you must tarry, Though he be scaped; and answer by the ears, sir.

[RE-ENTER FACE, WITH KASTRIL.]

FACE. Why, now's the time, if ever you will quarrel Well, as they say, and be a true-born child: The doctor and your sister both are abused.

KAS. Where is he? which is he? he is a slave, Whate'er he is, and the son of a wh.o.r.e. -- Are you The man, sir, I would know?

SUR. I should be loth, sir, To confess so much.

KAS. Then you lie in your throat.

SUR. How!

FACE [TO KASTRIL]. A very errant rogue, sir, and a cheater, Employ'd here by another conjurer That does not love the doctor, and would cross him, If he knew how.

SUR. Sir, you are abused.

KAS. You lie: And 'tis no matter.

FACE. Well said, sir! He is The impudent'st rascal -- SUR. You are indeed: Will you hear me, sir?

FACE. By no means: bid him be gone.

KAS. Begone, sir, quickly.

SUR. This 's strange! -- Lady, do you inform your brother.

FACE. There is not such a foist in all the town, The doctor had him presently; and finds yet, The Spanish count will come here. [ASIDE.] -- Bear up, Subtle.

SUB. Yes, sir, he must appear within this hour.

FACE. And yet this rogue would come in a disguise, By the temptation of another spirit, To trouble our art, though he could not hurt it!

KAS. Ay, I know -- Away, [TO HIS SISTER.] you talk like a foolish mauther.

SUR. Sir, all is truth she says.

FACE. Do not believe him, sir. He is the lying'st swabber! Come your ways, sir.