Dap.The Turk was here.
As one would say, do you think I am a Turk?
Face.I'll tell the doctor so.
Dap.Do, good sweet captain.
Face.Come, noble doctor, pray thee let's prevail;
This is the gentleman, and he is no chiaus.
Sub.Captain, I have return'd you all my answer.
I would do much, sir, for your love But this
I neither may, nor can.
Face.Tut, do not say so.
You deal now with a noble fellow, doctor,
One that will thank you richly; and he is no chiaus:
Let that, sir, move you.
Sub.Pray you, forbear———
Face.He has
Four angels here.
Sub.You do me wrong, good sir.
Face.Doctor, wherein? to tempt you with these spirits?
Sub.To tempt my art and love, sir, to my peril.
Fore heaven, I scarce can think you are my friend,
That so would draw me to apparent danger.
Face.I draw you! a horse draw you, and a halter,
You, and your flies together———
Dap.Nay, good captain.
Face.That know no difference of men.
Sub.Good words, sir.
Face.Good deeds, sir, doctor dogs-meat. 'Slight, I bring you
No cheating Clim o' the Cloughs,[1] or Claribels,
Page:The Works of Ben Jonson - Gifford - Volume 4.djvu/32
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28
THE ALCHEMIST.