This will retard
The work a month at least.
MAM. Why, if it do,
What remedy? But think it not, good father:
Our purposes were honest.
SUB. As they were,
So the reward will prove.
[A LOUD EXPLOSION WITHIN.]
-- How now! ah me!
God, and all saints be good to us. --
[RE-ENTER FACE.]
What's that?
FACE. O, sir, we are defeated! all the works
Are flown in fumo, every glass is burst;
Furnace, and all rent down, as if a bolt
Of thunder had been driven through the house.
Retorts, receivers, pelicans, bolt-heads,
All struck in shivers!
[SUBTLE FALLS DOWN AS IN A SWOON.]
Help, good sir! alas,
Coldness and death invades him. Nay, sir Mammon,
Do the fair offices of a man! you stand,
As you were readier to depart than he.
[KNOCKING WITHIN.]
Who's there? my lord her brother is come.
MAM. Ha, Lungs!
FACE. His coach is at the door. Avoid his sight,
For he's as furious as his sister's mad.
MAM. Alas!
FACE. My brain is quite undone with the fume, sir,
I ne'er must hope to be mine own man again.
MAM. Is all lost, Lungs? will nothing be preserv'd
Of all our cost?
FACE. Faith, very little, sir;
A peck of coals or so, which is cold comfort, sir.
MAM. O, my voluptuous mind! I am justly punish'd.
FACE. And so am I, sir.
MAM. Cast from all my hopes --
FACE. Nay, certainties, sir.
MAM. By mine own base affections.
SUB [SEEMING TO COME TO HIMSELF].
O, the curst fruits of vice and lust!
MAM. Good father,
It was my sin.
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