The workes of Beniamin Ionson

Act II. Scene VI.

FACE, SVBTLE, DRVGGER.

H'Is busie with his spirits, but wee'll vpon him.

SVB.

How now! What mates? What Bairards ha' wee here?

FAC.

I told you, he would be furious. Sir, here's NAB, Has brought yo' another old piece of gold, to looke on: (We must appease him. Giue it me) and prayes you, You would deuise (what is it NAB?)

DRV.

A signe, sir.

FAC.

I, a good lucky one, a thriuing signe, Doctor.

SVB.

I was deuising now.

FAC.

('Slight, doe not say so, He will repent he ga' you any more.) What say you to his constellation, Doctor? The Ballance?

SVB.

Not, that way is stale, and common. A townes-man, borne in Taurus, giues the bull Or the bulls-head: in Aries, the ram. A poor deuice. No, I will haue nis name

Form'd in some mystick character; whose radij, Striking the senses of the passers by, Shall, by a vertuall influence, breed affections, That may result vpon the partie ownes it: As thus—

FAC.

NAB!

SVB.

He first shall haue a bell, that's ABEL; And, by it, standing one, whose name is DEE, In a rugg gowne; there's D. and Rug, that's DRVG: And, right anenst him, a Dog snarling Er; There's DRVGGER, ABEL DRVGGER. That's his signe. And here's now mysterie, and hieroglyphick!

FAC.

ABEL, thou art made.

DRV.

Sir, I doe thanke his worship.

FAC.

Sixe o'thy legs more, will not doe it, NAB. He has brought you a pipe of tabacco, Doctor.

DRV.

Yes, sir: I haue another thing, I would impart—

FAC.

Out with it, NAB.

DRV.

Sir, there is lodg'd, hard by me, A rich yong widdow—

FAC.

Good! a bona roba?

DRV.

But nineteene, at the most.

FAC.

Very good, ABEL.

DRV.

Mary, sh'is not in fashion, yet; shee weares A hood: but 't stands a cop.

FAC.

No matter, ABEL.

DRV.

And, I doe, now and then giue her a fucus—

FAC.

What! dost thou deale, NAB?

SVB.

I did tell you, Captaine.

DRV.

And physick too sometime, sir: for which shee trusts me With all her mind. Shee's come vp here, of purpose To learne the fashion.

FAC.

Good (his match too!) on, NAB.

DRV.

And shee do's strangely long to know her fortune.

FAC.

Gods lid, NAB, Send her to the Doctor, hether.

DRV.

Yes, I haue spoke to her of his worship, alreadie: But shee's afraid, it will be blowne abroad And hurt her marriage.

FAC.

Hurt it? 'Tis the way To heale it, if 'twere hurt; to make it more Follow'd, and sought: NAB, thou shalt tell her this. Shee'll be more knowne, more talk'd of, and your widdowes Are ne'er of any price till they be famous; Their honour is their multitude of sutors: Send her, it may be thy good fortune. What? Thou dost not know.

DRV.

No, sir, shee'll neuer marry Vnder a knight. Her brother has made a vow.

FAC.

What, and dost thou despaire, my little NAB, Knowing, what the Doctor has set downe for thee, And, seeing so many, o'the citie, dub'd? One glasse o'thy water, with a Madame, I know, Will haue it done,

NAB.

What's her brother? a knight?

DRV.

No, sir, a gentleman, newly warme in 'his land, sir, Scarse cold in his one and twentie; that do's gouerne His sister, here: and is a man himselfe

Of some three thousand a yeere, and is come vp To learne to quarrell, and to liue by his wits, And will goe downe againe, and dye i' the countrey.

FAC.

How! to quarrell?

DRV.

Yes, sir, to carry quarrells, As gallants doe, and manage 'hem, by line.

FAC.

'Slid, NAB! The Doctor is the onely man In Christendome for him. He has made a table, With Mathematicall demonstrations, Touching the Art of quarrells. He will giue him An instrument to quarrell by. Goe, bring 'hem, both: Him, and his sister. And, for thee, with her The Doctor happ'ly may perswade. Goe to. 'Shalt giue his worship, a new damaske suite Vpon the premisses.

SVB.

O, good Captaine.

FAC.

He shall, He is the honestest fellow, Doctor. Stay not, No offers, bring the damaske, and the parties.

DRV.

I'll trie my power, sir.

FAC.

And thy will too, NAB.

SVB.

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

FAC.

He'll send you a pound, Doctor.

SVB.

O, no.

FAC.

He will do't. It is the gooddest soule. ABEL, about it. (Thou shalt know more anone. Away, be gone.) A miserable rogue, and liues with cheese, And has the wormes. That was the cause indeed Why he came now. He dealt with me, in priuate, To get a med'cine for'hem.

SVB.

And shall, sir. This workes.

FAC.

A wife, a wife, for one on'vs, my deare SVBTLE: Wee'll eene draw lots, and he, that failes, shall haue The more in goods, the other has in taile.

SVB.

Rather the lesse. For shee may be so light Shee may want graines.

FAC.

I, or be such a burden, A man would scarse endure her, for the whole.

SVB.

Faith, best let's see her first, and then determine.

FAC.

Content. But DOL must ha' no breath on't.

SVB.

Mum. Away, you to your SVRLY yonder, catch him.

FAC.

'Pray god, I ha' not stai'd too long.

SVB.

I feare it.