The Alchemist

clothes.

—Ti, ti, ti, ti, ti, ti, Would her Grace speak with me?
I come.⁠—Help, Dol!

Knocking without. Face

Speaks through the keyhole.
Who’s there? Sir Epicure,
My master’s in the way. Please you to walk
Three or four turns, but till his back be turned,
And I am for you.⁠—Quickly, Dol!

Subtle

Her Grace
Commends her kindly to you, master Dapper.

Dapper

I long to see her Grace.

Subtle

She now is set
At dinner in her bed, and she has sent you
From her own private trencher, a dead mouse,
And a piece of gingerbread, to be merry withal,
And stay your stomach, lest you faint with fasting:
Yet if you could hold out till she saw you, she says,
It would be better for you.

Face

Sir, he shall
Hold out, an ’twere this two hours, for her highness;
I can assure you that. We will not lose
All we have done.⁠—

Subtle

He must not see, nor speak
To anybody, till then.

Face

For that we’ll put, sir,
A stay in’s mouth.

Subtle

Of what?

Face

Of gingerbread.
Make you it fit. He that hath pleased her Grace
Thus far, shall not now crinkle for a little.⁠—
Gape, sir, and let him fit you.

They thrust a gag of gingerbread in his mouth. Subtle

Where shall we now
Bestow him?

Dol Common

In the privy.

Subtle

Come along, sir,
I now must show you Fortune’s privy lodgings.

Face

Are they perfumed, and his bath ready?

Subtle

All:
Only the fumigation’s somewhat strong.

Face

Speaking through the keyhole.
Sir Epicure, I am yours, sir, by and by.

Exeunt with Dapper.

Act IV

Scene I

A room in Lovewit’s house.

	Enter Face and Mammon.
Face	O sir, you’re come in the only finest time.⁠—
Sir Epicure Mammon	Where’s master?
Face	Now preparing for projection, sir. Your stuff will be all changed shortly.
Sir Epicure Mammon	Into gold?
Face	To gold and silver, sir.
Sir Epicure Mammon	Silver I care not for.
Face	Yes, sir, a little to give beggars.
Sir Epicure Mammon	Where’s the lady?
Face	At hand here. I have told her such brave things of you, Touching your bounty, and your noble spirit⁠—
Sir Epicure Mammon	Hast thou?
Face	As she is almost in her fit to see you. But, good sir, no divinity in your conference, For fear of putting her in rage.⁠—
Sir Epicure Mammon	I warrant thee.
Face	Six men [sir] will not hold her down: and then, If the old man should hear or see you⁠—
Sir Epicure Mammon	Fear not.
Face	The very house, sir, would run mad. You know it, How scrupulous he is, and violent, ’Gainst the least act of sin. Physic, or mathematics, Poetry, state, or bawdry, as I told you, She will endure, and never startle; but No word of controversy.
Sir Epicure Mammon	I am schooled, good Ulen.
Face	And you must praise her house, remember that, And her nobility.
Sir Epicure Mammon	Let me alone: No herald, no, nor antiquary, Lungs, Shall do it better. Go.
Face	Aside. Why, this is yet A kind of modern happiness, to have Dol Common for a great lady.
	Exit.
Sir Epicure Mammon	Now, Epicure, Heighten thyself, talk to her all in gold; Rain her as many showers as Jove did drops Unto his Danae; show the god a miser, Compared with Mammon. What! The stone will do’t. She shall feel gold, taste gold, hear gold, sleep gold; Nay, we will concumbere gold: I will be puissant, And mighty in my talk to her.⁠—
	Re-enter Face, with Dol richly dressed.
	Here she comes.
Face	To him, Dol, suckle him.⁠—This is the noble knight, I told your ladyship⁠—
Sir Epicure Mammon	Madam, with your pardon, I kiss your vesture.
Dol Common	Sir, I were uncivil If I would suffer that; my lip to you, sir.
Sir Epicure Mammon	I hope my lord your brother be in health, lady.
Dol Common	My lord, my brother is, though I no lady, sir.
Face	Aside. Well said, my Guinea bird.
Sir Epicure Mammon	Right noble madam⁠—
Face	Aside. O, we shall have most fierce idolatry.
Sir Epicure Mammon	’Tis your prerogative.
Dol Common	Rather your courtesy.
Sir Epicure Mammon	Were there nought else to enlarge your virtues to me, These answers speak your breeding and your blood.
Dol Common	Blood we boast none, sir, a poor baron’s daughter.
Sir Epicure Mammon	Poor! And gat you? Profane not. Had your father Slept all the happy remnant of his life After that act, lien but there still, and panted, He had done enough to make himself, his issue, And his posterity noble.
Dol Common	Sir, although We may be said to want the gilt and trappings, The dress of honour, yet we strive to keep The seeds and the materials.
Sir Epicure Mammon	I do see The old ingredient, virtue, was not lost, Nor the drug money used to make your compound. There is a strange nobility in your eye, This lip, that chin! Methinks you do resemble One of the Austriac princes.
Face	Very like! Aside. Her father was an Irish costermonger.
Sir Epicure Mammon	The house of Valois just had such a nose, And such a forehead yet the Medici Of Florence boast.
Dol Common	Troth, and I have been likened To all these princes.
Face	Aside. I’ll be sworn, I heard it.
Sir Epicure Mammon	I know not how! It is not anyone, But e’en the very choice of all their features.
Face	Aside. I’ll in, and laugh.
	Exit.
Sir Epicure Mammon	A certain touch, or air, That sparkles a divinity, beyond An earthly beauty!
Dol Common	O, you play the courtier.
Sir Epicure Mammon	Good lady, give me leave⁠—
Dol Common	In faith, I may not, To mock me, sir.
Sir Epicure Mammon	To burn in this sweet flame; The phoenix never knew a nobler death.
Dol Common	Nay, now you court the courtier, and destroy What you would build. This art, sir, in your words, Calls your whole faith in question.
Sir Epicure Mammon	By my soul⁠—
Dol Common	Nay, oaths are made of the same air, sir.
Sir Epicure Mammon	Nature Never bestowed upon mortality A more unblamed, a more harmonious feature; She played the stepdame in all faces else: Sweet Madam, let me be particular⁠—
Dol Common	Particular, sir! I pray you know your distance.
Sir Epicure Mammon	In no ill sense, sweet lady; but to ask How your fair