The Alchemist by Ben Jonson (best way to read an ebook txt) 📕
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First performed in 1610, The Alchemist is one of Ben Jonson’s greatest comedies. Written for the King’s Men—the acting company to which Shakespeare belonged—it was first performed in Oxford because the playhouses in London were closed due to the plague. It was an immediate success and has remained a popular staple ever since.
The play centers around a con man, his female accomplice, and a roguish butler who uses his master’s house to gull a series of victims out of their money and goods. Jonson uses the play to satirize as many people as he can—pompous lords, greedy commoners, and self-righteous Anabaptists alike—as his three con artists proceed to bilk everyone who comes to their door. They don multiple roles and weave elaborate tales to exploit their victims’ greed and amass a small fortune. But it all comes to a sudden, raucous end when the master unexpectedly returns to London and all the victims gather to try and reclaim their property.
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- Author: Ben Jonson
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’Ods will, she must go to him, man, and kiss him!
It is the Spanish fashion, for the women
To make first court.
’Tis true he tells you, sir:
His art knows all.
Porqué no se acude?
KastrilHe speaks to her, I think.
FaceThat he does, sir.
Pertinax SurlyPor el amor de Dios, qué es esto que se tarda?
KastrilNay, see: she will not understand him! Gull,
Noddy.
What say you, brother?
KastrilAss, my sister.
Go kiss him, as the cunning man would have you;
I’ll thrust a pin in your buttocks else.
O no, sir.
Pertinax SurlySeñora mía, mi persona esta muy indigna de
Allegara tanta hermosura.
Does he not use her bravely?
KastrilBravely, i’faith!
FaceNay, he will use her better.
KastrilDo you think so?
Pertinax SurlySeñora, si sera servida, entremonos.
Exit with Dame Pliant. KastrilWhere does he carry her?
FaceInto the garden, sir;
Take you no thought: I must interpret for her.
Give Dol the word.
Aside to Face, who goes out.
—Come, my fierce child, advance,
We’ll to our quarrelling lesson again.
Agreed.
I love a Spanish boy with all my heart.
Nay, and by this means, sir, you shall be brother
To a great count.
Ay, I knew that at first,
This match will advance the house of the Kastrils.
’Pray God your sister prove but pliant!
KastrilWhy,
Her name is so, by her other husband.
How!
KastrilThe widow Pliant. Knew you not that?
SubtleNo, faith, sir;
Yet, by erection of her figure, I guessed it.
Come, let’s go practise.
Yes, but do you think, Doctor,
I e’er shall quarrel well?
I warrant you.
Exeunt. Scene IIIAnother room in the same.
Enter Dol in her fit of raving, followed by Mammon. Dol Common“For after Alexander’s death”—
Sir Epicure MammonGood lady—
Dol Common“That Perdiccas and Antigonus, were slain,
The two that stood, Seleuc’, and Ptolomee”—
Madam—
Dol Common“Made up the two legs, and the fourth beast,
That was Gog-north, and Egypt-south: which after
Was called Gog-iron-leg and South-iron-leg”—
Lady—
Dol Common“And then Gog-horned. So was Egypt, too:
Then Egypt-clay-leg, and Gog-clay-leg”—
Sweet madam—
Dol Common“And last Gog-dust, and Egypt-dust, which fall
In the last link of the fourth chain. And these
Be stars in story, which none see, or look at”—
What shall I do?
Dol Common“For,” as he says, “except
We call the Rabbins, and the heathen Greeks”—
Dear lady—
Dol Common“To come from Salem, and from Athens,
And teach the people of Great Britain”—
What’s the matter, sir?
Dol Common“To speak the tongue of Eber, and Javan”—
Sir Epicure MammonO,
She’s in her fit.
“We shall know nothing”—
FaceDeath, sir,
We are undone!
“Where then a learned linguist
Shall see the ancient used communion
Of vowels and consonants”—
My master will hear!
Dol Common“A wisdom, which Pythagoras held most high”—
Sir Epicure MammonSweet honourable lady!
Dol Common“To comprise
All sounds of voices, in few marks of letters”—
Nay, you must never hope to lay her now.
They all speak together. Dol Common“And so we may arrive by Talmud skill,
And profane Greek, to raise the building up
Of Helen’s house against the Ismaelite,
King of Thogarma, and his habergions
Brimstony, blue, and fiery; and the force
Of king Abaddon, and the beast of Cittim:
Which rabbi David Kimchi, Onkelos,
And Aben Ezra do interpret Rome.”
How did you put her into’t?
Sir Epicure MammonAlas, I talked
Of a fifth monarchy I would erect,
With the philosopher’s stone, by chance, and she
Falls on the other four straight.
Out of Broughton!
I told you so. ’Slid, stop her mouth.
Is’t best?
FaceShe’ll never leave else. If the old man hear her,
We are but faeces, ashes.
Within. What’s to do there?
FaceO, we are lost! Now she hears him, she is quiet.
Enter Subtle, they run different ways. Sir Epicure MammonWhere shall I hide me!
SubtleHow! What sight is here?
Close deeds of darkness, and that shun the light!
Bring him again. Who is he? What, my son!
O, I have lived too long.
Nay, good, dear Father,
There was no unchaste purpose.
Not? And flee me
When I come in?
That was my error.
SubtleError?
Guilt, guilt, my son: give it the right name. No marvel,
If I found check in our great work within,
When such affairs as these were managing!
Why, have you so?
SubtleIt has stood still this half hour:
And all the rest of our less works gone back.
Where is the instrument of wickedness,
My lewd false drudge?
Nay, good sir, blame not him;
Believe me, ’twas against his will or knowledge:
I saw her by chance.
Will you commit more sin,
To excuse a varlet?
By my hope, ’tis true, sir.
SubtleNay, then I wonder less, if you, for whom
The blessing was prepared, would so tempt heaven,
And lose your fortunes.
Why, sir?
SubtleThis will retard
The work a month at least.
Why, if it do,
What remedy? But think it not, good Father:
Our purposes were honest.
As they were,
So the reward will prove.
A loud explosion within.
—How now! Ah me!
God, and all saints be good to us.—
What’s that?
FaceO, 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.
Ha, Lungs!
FaceHis coach is at the door. Avoid his sight,
For he’s
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