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Jonson, Ben, 1573-1637

"The Alchemist"

]
SUB [WITHIN]. Come in! Good wives, I pray you forbear me now;
Troth I can do you no good till afternoon --
[RE-ENTERS, FOLLOWED BY DRUGGER.]
What is your name, say you? Abel Drugger?
DRUG. Yes, sir.
SUB. A seller of tobacco?
DRUG. Yes, sir.
SUB. Umph!
Free of the grocers?
DRUG. Ay, an't please you.
SUB. Well --
Your business, Abel?
DRUG. This, an't please your worship;
I am a young beginner, and am building
Of a new shop, an't like your worship, just
At corner of a street: -- Here is the plot on't --
And I would know by art, sir, of your worship,
Which way I should make my door, by necromancy,
And where my shelves; and which should be for boxes,
And which for pots. I would be glad to thrive, sir:
And I was wish'd to your worship by a gentleman,
One captain Face, that says you know men's planets,
And their good angels, and their bad.
SUB. I do,
If I do see them --
[RE-ENTER FACE.]
FACE. What! my honest Abel?
Though art well met here.
DRUG. Troth, sir, I was speaking,
Just as your worship came here, of your worship:
I pray you speak for me to master doctor.
FACE. He shall do any thing. -- Doctor, do you hear?
This is my friend, Abel, an honest fellow;
He lets me have good tobacco, and he does not
Sophisticate it with sack-lees or oil,
Nor washes it in muscadel and grains,
Nor buries it in gravel, under ground,
Wrapp'd up in greasy leather, or piss'd clouts:
But keeps it in fine lily pots, that, open'd,
Smell like conserve of roses, or French beans.


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