Ben Jonson - A Tale of a Tub ACT 5. SCENE 7. lyrics

Tub, Medlay, Clench, Pan, Scriben, Hilts. Tub. O Mr. In-and-In, what ha' you done? Med. Survey'd the Place, Sir, and design'd the Ground, Or stand still of the work: And this it is. First, I have fixed in the Earth, a Tub; And an old Tub, like a Salt-Petre-Tub, Preluding by your Father's Name, Sir Peter. And the Antiquity of your House and Family, Original from Salt-Petre. Tub. Good yfaith, You ha' shewn Reading, and Antiquity here, Sir. Med. I have a little knowledge in design, Which I can vary, Sir, to Infinito. Tub. Ad Infinitum, Sir, you mean. Med. I do. I stand not on my Latine, I'll invent; But I must be alone then, joyn'd with no Man. This we do call the Stand-still of our work. Tub. Who are those we, you now joyn'd to your self? Med. I mean my self still, in the Plural Number, And out of this we raise our Tale of a Tub. Tub. No, Mr. In-and-In, my Tale of a Tub, By your leave, I am Tub, the Tale's of me, And my Adventures! I am Squire Tub, Subjectum Fabulæ. Med. But I the Author. Tub. The Workman, Sir! the Artificer! I grant you. So Skelton-Laureat, was of Elinour Bumming; But she the Subject of the Rout and Tunning. Cle. He has put you to it, Neighbour In-and-In. Pan. Do not dispute with him, he still will win. That pays for all. Scr. Are you revis'd o' that? A Man may have Wit, and yet put off his Hat. Med. Now, Sir, this Tub, I will have capt with Paper: A fine Oyl'd Lantern-paper, that we use. Pan. Yes, every Barber, every Cutler has it. Med. Which in it doth contain the light to the business. And shall with the very Vapour of the Candle, Drive all the motions of our Matter about: As we present 'em. For Example, first, The Worshipful Lady Tub. Tub. Right Worshipful, I pray you, I am Worshipful my self. Med. Your Squireship's Mother, pa**eth by (her Huisher, Mr. Pol-martin, bare-headed before her) In her Velvet Gown. Tub. But how shall the Spectators, As it might be, I, or Hilts, know 'tis my Mother? Or that Pol-martin, there, that walks before her. Med. O we do nothing, if we clear not that. Cle. You ha' seen none of his Works, Sir? Pan. All the postures Of the Train'd Bands o' the Countrey. Scr. All their Colours. Pan. And all their Captains. Cle. All the Cries o' the City: And all the Trades i' their Habits. Scr. He has his Whistle Of Command: Seat of Authority! And Virge to interpret, tip'd with Silver, Sir, You know not him. Tub. Well, I will leave all to him. Med. Give me the brief o' your Subject. Leave the whole State of the thing to me. Hil. Supper is ready, Sir. My Lady calls for you. Tub. I'll send it you in writing. Med. Sir, I will render feazible, and facile, What you expect. Tub. Hilts, be't your care, To see the Wise of Finsbury made welcome: Let 'em want nothing. Is old Rosin sent for? [The Squire goes out. Hil. He's come within. Scr. Lord! what a world of business The Squire dispatches! Med. He is a learned Man: I think there are but vew o' the Inns o' Court, Or the Inns o' Chancery like him. [The rest follow. Cle. Care to fit 'un then.