Mam Monologue from The Alchemist

From The Alchemist by Ben Jonson

female · dark · 1:02 min

I will have all my beds blown up, not stuft; Down is too hard: and then, mine oval room Fill'd with such pictures as Tiberius took From Elephantis, and dull Aretine But coldly imitated. Then, my glasses Cut in more subtle angles, to disperse And multiply the figures, as I walk Naked between my succubae. My mists I'll have of perfume, vapour'd 'bout the room, To lose ourselves in; and my baths, like pits To fall into; from whence we will come forth, And roll us dry in gossamer and roses.-- Is it arrived at ruby?--Where I spy A wealthy citizen, or rich lawyer, Have a sublimed pure wife, unto that fellow I'll send a thousand pound to be my cuckold.

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