MAM. If he knew it.
DOL. Yourself do boast it, sir.
MAM. To thee, my life.
DOL. O, but beware, sir! You may come to end
The remnants of your days in a loth'd prison,
By speaking of it.
MAM. 'Tis no idle fear.
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.
[RE-ENTER FACE.]
FACE. 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?
MAM. Excellent! Lungs. There's for thee.
[GIVES HIM MONEY.]
FACE. But do you hear?
Good sir, beware, no mention of the rabbins.
MAM. We think not on 'em.
[EXEUNT MAM. AND DOL.]
FACE. O, it is well, sir. -- Subtle!
[ENTER SUBTLE.]
Dost thou not laugh?
SUB. Yes; are they gone?
FACE. All's clear.
SUB. The widow is come.
FACE. And your quarrelling disciple?
SUB. Ay.
FACE.
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