Ben Jonson - The Magnetick Lady. Act 3. Scene 2. lyrics

To them after.] Compa**, Ironside. Com. Were you a Mad-man to do this at table? And trouble all the Guests, to affright the Ladies, And Gentlewomen? Iro. Pox upo' your Women, And your hal-man there, Court-Sir Amber-gris: A perfum'd Braggart: He must drink his Wine With three parts Water; and have Amber in that too. Com. And you must therefore break his Face with a Gla**, And wash his Nose in Wine. Iro. Cannot he drink In Orthodox, but he must have his Gums, And Panym Drugs? Com. You should have us'd the Gla** Rather as Balance, than the Sword of Justice: But you have cut his Face with it, he bleeds. Come you shall take your Sanctuary with me; The whole house will be up in Arms 'gainst you else, Within this half hour: this way to my Lodging. Rut, Lady, Polish, Keep carrying Placentia over the Stage. Pleasance, Item. Rut. A most rude action! carry her to her Bed; And use the Fricace to her, with those Oils. Keep your news, Item, now, and tend his business. Lad. Good Gossip look to her. Pol. How do you, sweet charge? Keep. She's in a sweat. Pol. I, and a faint sweat marry. Rut. Let her alone to Tim: he has directions, I'll hear your news Tim Item, when you ha' done. Lad. Was ever such a Guest brought to my table? Rut. These boistrous Soldiers ha' no better breeding. Here Mr. Compa** comes: where's your Captain, Rudhudibras de Ironside? Com. Gone out of Doors. Lad. Would he had ne'er come in them, I may wish. He has discredited my House, and Board, With his rude swaggering manners, and endanger'd My Nieces Health (by drawing of his Weapon) God knows how far; for Mr. Doctor does not. Com. The Doctor is an Ass then, if he say so, And cannot with his conjuring names, Hippocrates, Galen, or Rasis, Avicen, Averroes, Cure a poor Farthing chang'd in Rosa solis, Or Cynnamon-water would. Lad. How now? how does she? Keep. She's somewhat better. Mr. Item has brought her A little about. Pol. But there's Sir Moath, your Brother, Is fall'n into a fit o'the Happyplex, I(t were a happy place for him, and us, If he could steal to Heaven thus: All the House Are calling Mr. Doctor, Mr. Doctor. The Parson he has gi'n him gone, this half hour; He's pale in the Mouth already, for the fear O' the fierce Captain. Lad. Help me to my Chamber, Nurse Keep: would I could see the day no more, But night hung over me, like some dark Cloud; That, buried with this loss of my good name, I, and my House might perish, thus forgotten -- Com. Her taking it to heart thus, more afflicts me Than all these accidents, for they'll blow over.