Out, the varlet That cozen'd the apostles! Hence, away! Flee, mischief! had your holy consistory No name to send me, of another sound, Than wicked Ananias? send your elders Hither to make atonement for you quickly, And give me satisfaction; or out goes The fire; and down th' alembics, and the furnace, Piger Henricus, or what not. Thou wretch! Both sericon and bufo shall be lost, Tell them. All hope of rooting out the bishops, Or the antichristian hierarchy, shall perish, If they stay threescore minutes: the aqueity, Terreity, and sulphureity Shall run together again, and all be annull'd, Thou wicked Ananias! This will fetch 'em, And make them haste towards their gulling more. A man must deal like a rough nurse, and fright Those that are froward, to an appetite.

Sub Monologue from The Alchemist

Rehearse Sub's monologue