igate, devil, compounded of all
men's sins, bow down and reverence him who has brought into thy house
the very mammon thou worshippest."

"For God's sake," said Foster, "speak low--come into the house--thou
shalt have wine, or whatever thou wilt."

"No, old puckfoist, I will have it here," thundered the inebriated
ruffian--"here, AL FRESCO, as the Italian hath it. No, no, I will not
drink with that poisoning devil within doors, to be choked with the
fumes of arsenic and quick-silver; I learned from villain Varney to
beware of that."

"Fetch him wine, in the name of all the fiends!" said the alchemist.

"Aha! and thou wouldst spice it for me, old Truepenny, wouldst thou not?
Ay, I should have copperas, and hellebore, and vitriol, and aqua fortis,
and twenty devilish materials bubbling in my brain-pan like a charm to
raise the devil in a witch's cauldron. Hand me the flask thyself, old
Tony Fire-the-Fagot--and let it be cool--I will have no wine mulled at
the pile of the old burnt bishops. Or stay, let Leicester be king if
he will--good--and Varney, villain Varney, grand vizier--why,
excellent!--and what shall I be, then?--why, emperor--Emperor Lambourne!
I will see this choice piece of beauty that they have walled up here
for their private pleasures; I will have her this very night to serve my
wine-cup and put on my nightcap. What should a fellow do with two
wives, were he twenty times an Earl? Answer me that, Tony boy, you old
reprobate, hypocritical dog, whom God struck out of the book of life,
but tormented with the constant wish to be restored to it--you old
bishop-burning, blasphemous fanatic, answer me that."

"I will stick my knife to the haft in him," said Foster, in a low tone,
which trembled with passion.

"For the love of Heaven, no violence!" said the astrologer. "It cannot
but be looked closely into.--Here, honest Lambourne, wilt thou pledge me
to the health of the noble Earl of Leicester and Master Richard Varney?"

"I will, mine old Albumazar--I will, my trusty vender of ratsbane. I
would kiss thee, mine honest infractor of the Lex Julia (as they said
at Leyden), didst thou not flavour so damnably of sulphur, and such
fiendish apothecary's stuff.--Here goes it, up seyes--to Varney and
Leicester two more noble mounting spirits--and more dark-seeking,
deep-diving, high-flying, malicious, ambitious miscreants--well, I say
no more, but I will whet my dagger on his heart-spone that refuses to
pledge me!