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A man, the emperor Has courted above Kelly; sent his medals. Above the art of Aesculapius, That drew the envy of the thunderer! I know all this, and more. 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 That might stand up the glory of a kingdom, To live recluse!


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 in the quarry? 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. Yes, the strongest bands. And take a secret too -- here, by your side, Doth stand this hour, the happiest man in Europe.

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. No, I will take away that jealousy. I am the lord of the philosopher's stone, And thou the lady.

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I am the master of the mystery. 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.

I am 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 empirics, and their boasted practice; Tincture of pearl, and coral, gold, and amber; Be seen at feasts and triumphs; have it ask'd, What miracle she is; set all the eyes Of court a-fire, like a burning glass, And work them into cinders, when the jewels Of twenty states adorn thee, and the light Strikes out the stars!

Thus will we have it. 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 For any private subject. O, but beware, sir! You may come to end The remnants of your days in a loth'd prison, By speaking of it.

We'll therefore go withal, 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 boil'd in silver shells; Our shrimps to swim again, as when they liv'd, 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 have thy wardrobe Richer than nature's, still to change thy self, And vary oftener, for thy pride, than she, Or art, her wise and almost-equal servant. Sir, you are too loud. I hear you every word Into the laboratory. Some fitter place; The garden, or great chamber above. How like you her? Come near, my worshipful boy, my terrae fili, That is, my boy of land; make thy approaches: Welcome; I know thy lusts, and thy desires, And I will serve and satisfy them. Begin, Charge me from thence, or thence, or in this line; Here is my centre: ground thy quarrel.

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O, this is 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 have your elements perfect.

That false precept, Of being afore-hand, has deceived a number, And made them enter quarrels, often-times, Before they were aware; and afterward, Against their wills. I cry this lady mercy: she should first Have been saluted. By inspection on her forehead, And subtlety of her lip, which must be tasted Often to make a judgment. Let me see your hand. O, your linea fortunae 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.

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And, lady, I'll have you look in a glass, Some half an hour, but to clear your eye-sight, Against you see your fortune; which is greater, Than I may judge upon the sudden, trust me. I will not treat with thee; what! Do not murmur: Win her, and carry her. If you grumble, Dol Knows it directly.

The Alchemist

I follow you, sir. We must keep Face in awe, Or he will over-look us like a tyrant. Don John! Stab me; I shall never hold, man. He looks in that deep ruff like a head in a platter, Serv'd in by a short cloke upon two trestles. Or, what do you say to a collar of brawn, cut down Beneath the souse, and wriggled with a knife?

Yes, the casa, My precious Diego, will prove fair enough To cozen you in. Do you mark? Do you intend it?

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Have you brought pistolets, or portagues, My solemn Don? Unless you'll mar all. This is a travelled punk-master, and does know All the delays; a notable hot rascal, And looks already rampant. Entiendo que la senora es tan hermosa, que codicio tan verla, como la bien aventuranza de mi vida. Mi vida! What dost thou say to draw her to it, ha! And tell her 'tis her fortune? It is but one man more, Which of us chance to have her: and beside, There is no maidenhead to be fear'd or lost. What dost thou think on't, Subtle? O, by that light I'll not buy now: You know your doom to me.

E'en take your lot, obey your chance, sir; win her, And wear her out, for me. How, issue on? Please you Enthratha the chambrata, worthy don: Where if you please the fates, in your bathada, You shall be soked, and stroked, and tubb'd and rubb'd, And scrubb'd, and fubb'd, dear don, before you go. You shall in faith, my scurvy baboon don, Be curried, claw'd, and flaw'd, and taw'd, indeed.

I will the heartlier go about it now, And make the widow a punk so much the sooner, To be revenged on this impetuous Face: The quickly doing of it is the grace. Come, lady: I knew the Doctor would not leave, Till he had found the very nick of her fortune. Ask from your courtier, to your inns-of-court-man, To your mere milliner; they will tell you all, Your Spanish gennet is the best horse; your Spanish Stoup is the best garb; your Spanish beard Is the best cut; your Spanish ruffs are the best Wear; your Spanish pavin the best dance; Your Spanish titillation in a glove The best perfume: and for your Spanish pike, And Spanish blade, let your poor captain speak -- Here comes the doctor.

My most honour'd lady, For so I am now to style you, having found By this my scheme, you are to undergo An honourable fortune, very shortly. What will you say now, if some I have told her all, sir, And her right worshipful brother here, that she shall be A countess; do not delay them, sir; a Spanish countess. Still, my scarce-worshipful captain, you can keep No secret! Well, since he has told you, madam, Do you forgive him, and I do. DAME P. Never since eighty-eight could I abide them, And that was some three year afore I was born, in truth.

No, my enraged child; She will be ruled. What, when she comes to taste The pleasures of a countess!

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Yes, and have The citizens gape at her, and praise her tires, And my lord's goose-turd bands, that ride with her! Ods will, she must go to him, man, and kiss him! It is the Spanish fashion, for the women To make first court. Ass, my suster. Go kuss him, as the cunning man would have you; I'll thrust a pin in your buttocks else.