SCENE V. Subtle, Face, Dapper, Dol. Subtle difguis'd like a priest of Fairy. Sub. Is yet her grace's coufin come? Sub. And is he fafting? Fac. Yes. Sub. And hath cry'd hum? Fac. Thrice, you must answer. Sub. And as oft buz? Fac. If you have, say. Sub. Then, to her cuz, Hoping that he hath vinegar'd his fenfes, [They blind him with a rag. And, trusting unto her to make his state, He'll throw away all worldly pelf about him; She She cannot bid that thing, but he'll obey. [He throws away, as they bid him. Dap. Truly, there's all. Fac. All what? Dap. My money; truly. Fac. Keep nothing that is tranfitory about you. (Bid Dol play mufick.) Look, the elves are come To pinch you, if you tell not truth. Advise you. [Dol enters with a cittern; they pinch him. Dap. "O, I have a paper with a fpur-ryal in't. Fac. Ti, ti. They knew't, they fay. Sub. Ti, ti, ti, ti, he has more yet. Fac. Ti, ti-ti-ti. I' the other pocket? Sub. Titi, titi, titi, titi, titi. They must pinch him, or he will never confefs, they fay. Dap. O, O. Fac. Nay, pray you hold. He is her grace's nephew. Ti, ti, ti? what care you? good faith, you fhall care, Deal plainly, fir, and fhame the fairies. Shew You are innocent. Dap. By this good light, I ha' nothing. Sub. Ti, ti, ti, ti, to, ta. He does equivocate, the fays. Ti, ti do ti, ti ti do, ti da; and fwears by the light [when he is blinded. Dap. By this good dark, I ha' nothing but a half [crown "Dap. O, I have a paper with a SPUR-RYAL in 't.] Afpur al was a gold coin; and in the third of James I. it paffed for Efteen fhillings. They were first coined in Edward the IVth's time. VOL. III. F Of 12 Of gold about my wrift, that my love gave me 12; Fac. I thought 'twas fomething. And would you inYour aunt's displeasure for these trifles? Come, [cur I had rather you had thrown away twenty half-crowns. You may wear your leaden heart ftill. How now? Sub. What news, Dol? Dol. Yonder's your knight, sir Mammon. Fac. Gods lid, we never thought of him till now. Where is he? Dol. Here hard by. H'is at the door. Sub. And you are not ready now? Dol, get his fuit. He must not be sent back. Fac. O by no means. What shall we do with this fame puffin here, Now he's o' the spit ? Sub. Why, lay him back awhile, With fome device. Ti, ti, ti, ti, ti, ti, would her I come. Help, Dol. [grace fpeak with me? Fac. Who's there? Sir Epicure, [He speaks through the key-hole, the other knocking. My master's i' the way. Please you to walk Three or four turns, but till his back be turn'd, Sub. Her grace Commends her kindly to you, master Dapper. Sub. She now is fet At dinner in her bed, and fhe has fent you Of gold.] Crowns in filver were not coined till Henry VIIIth's time, nor common till the reign of Edward VI. Yet Yet if you could hold out till fhe faw you (she says) It would be better for you. Fac. Sir, he fhall Hold out, an 'twere this two hours, for her highness; I can affure you that. We will not lofe All we ha' done Sub. He must not fee, nor fpeak To any body, till then. Fac. For that we'll put, fir, A ftay in's mouth. Sub. Of what? Fac. Of gingerbread. Make you it fit. He that hath pleas'd her grace Sub. Where fhall we now Bestow him? Dol. I' the privy. Sub. Come along, fir, I now muft fhew you Fortune's privy lodgings. Only the fumigation's fomewhat ftrong. Fac. Sir Epicure, I am yours, fir, by and by. ACT IV. SCENE I. Face, Mammon, Dol. Fac. Sir, yo' are come i' the only fineft time — Where's master? Fac. Now preparing for projection, fir. Your stuff will b' all chang'd fhortly. Mam. Into gold? Fac. To gold and filver, fir. F 2 Mam. Mam. Silver I care not for. Fac. Yes, fir, a little to give beggars. Mam. Where's the lady? Fac. At hand here. I ha' told her fuch brave things Touching your bounty, and your noble spirit- [o'you, Mam. Haft thou? Fac. As fhe is almost in her fit to see you. But, good fir, no divinity i' your conference, For fear of putting her in rage Mam. I warrant thee. Fac. Six men will not hold her down. And then If the old man fhould hear or fee you Mam. Fear not. Fac. The very house, fir,would run mad. You know it, How fcrupulous he is, and violent, 'Gainst the least act of fin. Phyfick, or mathematicks, Poetry, ftate, or bawd'ry, (as I told you) She will endure, and never ftartle: but No word of controverfy. Mam. I am school'd, good Ulen. Fac. And you must praise her house, remember that, And her nobility. Mam. Let me alone: No herald, no, nor antiquary, lungs, - Fac. Why, this is yet A kind of modern happiness, to have Mam. Now, Epicure, Heighten thy felf, talk to her, all in gold; Rain her as many fhowers as Jove did drops Compar'd with Mammon. What? the ftone will do't. Fac. |