Volpone and Other Plays (41 page)

80       How your fair graces pass the hours? I see

Y' are lodged here, i' the house of a rare man,

An excellent artist; but what's that to you?

DOL COMMON
: Yes, sir. I study here the mathematics, And
distillation
.

MAMMON
:            O, I cry your pardon.

He's a divine instructor! can extract

The souls of all thing by his art; call all

The virtues and the miracles of the sun

Into a temperate furnace; teach dull nature

What her own forces are. A man, the Emp' ror

90       Has courted above Kelly; sent his medals

And chains t' invite him.

DOL COMMON
:                  Ay, and for his physic, sir –

MAMMON
: Above the art of Æsculapius,

That drew the envy of the Thunderer!

I know all this, and more.

DOL COMMON
:                   Troth, I am taken, sir,

Whole with these studies that contemplate nature.

MAMMON
: It is a noble humour. But this form

Was not intended to so dark a use.

Had you been crooked, foul, of some coarse mould,

A cloister had done well; but such a feature,

100    That might stand up the glory of a kingdom,

To live recluse is a mere solecism,

Though in a nunnery. It must not be.

I
muse
, my Lord your brother will permit it!

You should spend half my land first, were I he.

Does not this diamond better on my finger

Than i' the quarry?

DOL COMMON
:           Yes.

MAMMON
:                               Why, you are like it

You were created, lady, for the light.

Here, you shall wear it; take it, the first pledge

Of what I speak, to bind you to believe me.

DOL COMMON
: In chains of adamant?

110  
MAMMON
:                                                      Yes, the strongest bands.

And take a secret, too: here, by your side,

Doth stand this hour the happiest man in Europe.

DOL COMMON
: You are contented, sir?

MAMMON
:                                                         Nay, in true being,

The envy of princes and the fear of states.

DOL COMMON
: Say you so, Sir Epicure?

MAMMON
:                                                     Yes, and thou shalt

prove it,

Daughter of honour. I have cast mine eye

Upon thy form, and I will rear this beauty

Above all styles.

DOL COMMON
:    You mean no treason, sir?

MAMMON
: No, I will take away that jealousy.

120     I am the lord of the Philosopher's Stone,

And thou the lady.

DOL COMMON
:               How, sir! ha' you that?

MAMMON
: I am the master of the
mastery
.

This day the good old wretch here o' the house

Has made it for us. Now he's at projection.

Think therefore thy first wish now, let me hear it;

And it shall rain into thy lap, no shower,

But floods of gold, whole cataracts, a deluge,

To get a nation on thee.

DOL COMMON
:                  You are pleased, sir,

To work on the ambition of our sex.

130  
MAMMON
: I' m pleased the glory of her sex should know,

This nook here of the
Friars
is no climate

For her to live obscurely in, to learn

Physic and surgery, for the constable's wife

Of some odd
hundred
in Essex; but come forth,

And taste the air of palaces; eat, drink

The toils of
emp' rics
, and their boasted practice;

Tincture of pearl, and coral, gold, and amber;

Be seen at feasts and triumphs; have it asked,

What miracle she is; set all the eyes

140   Of court a-fire, like a burning-glass,

And work 'em into cinders, when the jewels

Of twenty states adorn thee, and the light

Strikes out the stars; that, when thy name is mentioned,

Queens may look pale; and, we but showing our love,

Nero's Poppæa may be lost in story!

Thus will we have it.

DOL COMMON
:           I could well consent, sir.

But in a monarchy, how will this be?

The Prince will soon take notice, and both seize

You and your Stone, it being a wealth unfit

150     For any private subject.

MAMMON
:                            If he knew it.

DOL COMMON
: Yourself do boast it, sir.

MAMMON
:                                                     To thee, my life.

DOL COMMON
: O, but beware, sir! You may come to end

The remnant of your days in a loathed prison,

By speaking of it.

MAMMON
:             'Tis no idle fear!

We'll therefore go with all, my girl, and live

In a free state, where we will eat our mullets,

Soused in high-country wines, sup pheasants' eggs,

And have our cockles boiled in silver shells;

Our shrimps to swim again, as when they lived,

160     In a rare butter made of dolphins' milk,

Whose cream does look like opals; and with these

Delicate meats set ourselves high for pleasure,

And take us down again, and then renew

Our youth and strength with drinking the elixir,

And so enjoy a perpetuity

Of life and lust! And thou shalt ha' thy wardrobe

Richer than Nature's, still to change thyself,

And vary oft'ner for thy pride than she,

Or Art, her wise and almost-equal servant.

   [
Enter
FACE
.]

170  
FACE
: sir, you are too loud. I hear you, every word,

Into the laboratory. Some fitter place –

The garden, or great chamber above. [
Aside
] How like you her?

MAMMON
: Excellent, Lungs! There's for thee.

   [
Gives him money
.]

FACE
:                                                                             But do you hear?

Good sir, beware, no mention of the rabbins.

MAMMON
: We think not on 'em.

FACE
:                                                  O, it is well, sir.

     [
Exeunt
MAMMON
and
DOL
.]

                                                                                      – Subtle!

IV, ii        [
Enter
SUBTLE
.]

Dost thou not laugh?

SUBTLE
:                         Yes. Are they gone?

FACE
:                                                                          All's clear.

SUBTLE
: The widow is come.

FACE
:                                              And your quarrelling disciple?.

SUBTLE
: Ay.

FACE
:             I must to my
Captainship
again then.

SUBTLE
: Stay, bring 'em in first.

FACE
:                                                     So I meant. What is she?

A bonnibel
?

SUBTLE
:           I know not.

FACE
:                                       We'll draw lots;

You'll stand to that?

SUBTLE
:                         What else?

FACE
:                                                        O, for a suit,

To fall now like a curtain, flap!

SUBTLE:
                                             To th' door, man.

FACE:
You'll ha' the first kiss, ' cause I am not ready.

     [
Exit
.]

SUBTLE:
Yes, and perhaps
hit you through both the nostrils
.

10    
FACE
[
within
]: Who would you speak with?

KASTRIL
[
within
]:                                              Where's the Captain?

FACE
[
within
]:                                                                         Gone, sir,

About some business.

KASTRIL
[
within
]:          Gone!

FACE
[
within
]:                         He'll return straight.

But Master Doctor, his lieutenant, is here.

    [
Enter
KASTRIL
followed by
DAME PLIANT.
]

SUBTLE:
Come near, my Worshipful boy, my
terree fili,

That is, my boy of land; make thy approaches.

Welcome; I know thy lusts and thy desires,

And I will serve and satisfy 'em. Begin,

Charge me from thence, or thence, or in this line;

Here is my centre: ground thy quarrel.

KASTRIL:
                                                          You lie.

SUBTLE:
How, child of wrath and anger! the loud lie?

20        For what, my sudden boy?

KASTRIL:
                                 Nay, that look you to,

I am aforehand.

SUBTLE:
               O, this's no true grammar,

And as ill logic! You must render causes, child,

Your first and second intentions, know your canons

And your divisions, moods, degrees, and differences,

Your predicaments, substance, and accident,

Series extern and intern, with their causes

Efficient, material, formal, final,

And ha' your elements perfect –

KASTRIL:
                                            What is this?

The
angry
tongue he talks in?

SUBTLE:
                                          That false precept,

30      Of being aforehand, has deceived a number,

And made 'em enter quarrels oftentimes

Before they were aware; and afterward,

Against their wills.

KASTSIL
:                       How must I do then, sir?

SUBTLE
: I Cry this lady mercy; she should first

Have been saluted. I do call you lady,

Because you are to be one ere't be long,

My soft and buxom widow.

    
He kisses her
.

KASTRIL
:                                     Is she, i' faith?

SUBTLE
: Yes, or my art is an egregious liar.

KASTRIL
: How know you?

SUBTLE
:                                    By inspection on her forehead,

40      And subtlety of her lip, which must be tasted

Often to make a judgement.

     
He kisses her again
.

                                               'Slight, she melts

Like a
myrobolane
. Here is yet a line,

In
rivo frontis
, tells me he is no knight.

DAME PLIANT
: What is he then, sir?

SUBTLE
:                                                        Let me see your hand.

O, your
linea fortunœ
makes it plain;

And
Stella
here
in monte Veneris
.

But, most of all,
junctura annularis
.

He is a soldier, or a man of art, lady,

But shall have some great honour shortly,

DAME PLIANT
:                                                           Brother,

He's a rare man, believe me!

    [
Re-enter
FACE
,
in his Captain's uniform
.]