Chapter LVI: Act II: Scene I.1846

[_Enter_] SIR EPICURE MAMMON _and_ SURLY.

_Mam._ Come on, sir. Now you set your foot on shore
In _Novo Orbe_;[1847] here’s the rich Peru:
And there within, sir, are the golden mines,
Great Solomon’s Ophir! He was sailing to ’t
Three years, but we have reach’d it in ten months. 5
This is the day wherein, to all my friends,
I will pronounce the happy word, BE RICH;
THIS DAY YOU SHALL BE SPECTATISSIMI.[1848]
You shall no more deal with the hollow die, 10
Or the frail card; no more be at charge of keeping
The livery-punk[1849] for the young heir, that must
Seal, at all hours, in his shirt: no more,
If he deny, ha’ him beaten to ’t, as he is
That brings him the commodity; no more
Shall thirst of satin, or the covetous hunger 15
Of velvet entrails[1850] for a rude-spun cloak,
To be display’d at Madam Augusta’s, make
The sons of Sword and Hazard fall before
The golden calf, and on their knees, whole nights,
Commit idolatry with wine and trumpets: 20
Or go a feasting after drum and ensign.
No more of this. You shall start up young viceroys,
And have your punks and punkettees, my Surly.
And unto thee I speak it first, BE RICH.
Where is my Subtle there? Within, ho!

[FACE,_ within_.] Sir, 25
He’ll come to you by and by.

_Mam._ That is his fire-drake,[1851]
His Lungs, his Zephyrus, he that pulls his coals,
Till he firk[1852] nature up, in her own centre.
You are not faithful,[1853] sir. This night I’ll change
All that is metal in my house to gold: 30
And, early in the morning, will I send
To all the plumbers and the pewterers,
And buy their tin and lead up; and to Lothbury
For all the copper.

_Sur._ What, and turn that, too?

_Mam._ Yes, and I’ll purchase Devonshire and Cornwall, 35
And make them perfect Indies! You admire now?

_Sur._ No, faith.

_Mam._ But when you see th’ effects of the Great Med’cine,
Of which one part projected on a hundred
Of Mercury, or Venus, or the Moon, 40
Shall turn it to as many of the Sun;[1854]
Nay, to a thousand, so _ad infinitum_;
You will believe me.

_Sur._ Yes, when I see ’t, I will.
But if my eyes do cozen me so, and I
Giving ’em no occasion, sure I’ll have 45
A whore, shall piss ’em out next day.

_Mam._ Ha! why?
Do you think I fable with you? I assure you,
He that has once the flower of the sun,
The perfect ruby, which we call elixir,
Not only can do that, but by its virtue, 50
Can confer honour, love, respect, long life;
Give safety, valour, yea, and victory,
To whom he will. In eight and twenty days,
I’ll make an old man of fourscore, a child.

_Sur._ No doubt; he’s that already.

_Mam._ Nay, I mean, 55
Restore his years, renew him, like an eagle,
To the fifth age; make him get sons and daughters,
Young giants; as our philosophers have done,
The ancient patriarchs, afore the flood,
But taking, once a week, on a knife’s point, 60
The quantity of a grain of mustard of it;
Become stout Marses, and beget young Cupids.

_Sur._ The decay’d vestals of Pickt-hatch[1855] would thank you,
That keep the fire alive there.

_Mam._ ’T is the secret
Of nature naturiz’d ’gainst all infections, 65
Cures all diseases coming of all causes;
A month’s grief in a day, a year’s in twelve;
And, of what age soever, in a month.
Past all the doses of your drugging doctors,
I ’ll undertake, withal, to fright the plague 70
Out o’ the kingdom in three months.

_Sur._ And I ’ll
Be bound, the players shall sing your praises then,
Without their poets.[1856]

_Mam._ Sir, I ’ll do ’t. Meantime,
I ’ll give away so much unto my man,
Shall serve th’ whole city with preservative 75
Weekly; each house his dose, and at the rate——

_Sur._ As he that built the Water-work does with water?

_Mam._ You are incredulous.

_Sur._ Faith, I have a humour,
I would not willingly be gull’d.[1857] Your stone
Cannot transmute me.

_Mam._ Pertinax Surly, 80
Will you believe antiquity? Records?
I ’ll show you a book where Moses, and his sister,
And Solomon have written of the art;
Ay, and a treatise penn’d by Adam——

_Sur._ How!

_Mam._ Of the philosopher’s stone, and in High Dutch. 85

_Sur._ Did Adam write, sir, in High Dutch?

_Mam._ He did;
Which proves it was the primitive tongue.

_Sur._ What paper?

_Mam._ On cedar board.

_Sur._ O that, indeed, they say,
Will last ’gainst worms.

_Mam._ ’T is like your Irish wood
’Gainst cobwebs. I have a piece of Jason’s fleece too, 90
Which was no other than a book of alchemy,
Writ in large sheepskin, a good fat ram-vellum.
Such was Pythagoras’ thigh, Pandora’s tub,
And all that fable of Medea’s charms, 94
The manner of our work; the bulls, our furnace,
Still breathing fire; our argent-vive,[1858] the dragon:
The dragon’s teeth, mercury sublimate,
That keeps the whiteness, hardness, and the biting;
And they are gather’d into Jason’s helm, 99
Th’ alembic, and then sow’d in Mars his field,
And thence sublim’d so often, till they’re fix’d.
Both this, th’ Hesperian garden, Cadmus’ story,
Jove’s shower, the boon of Midas, Argus’ eyes,
Boccace his Demogorgon,[1859] thousands more, 104
All abstract riddles of our stone.—How now!

SCENE II.[1860]

MAMMON, SURLY. [_Enter_] FACE, [_as a Servant._]

_Mam._ Do we succeed? Is our day come? And holds it?

_Face._ The evening will set red upon you, sir;
You have colour for it, crimson: the red ferment
Has done his office; three hours hence prepare you
To see projection.

_Mam._ Pertinax, my Surly. 5
Again I say to thee, aloud, BE RICH.
This day thou shalt have ingots; and to-morrow
Give lords th’ affront.—Is it, my Zephyrus, right?
Blushes the bolt’s-head?[1861]

_Face._ Like a wench with child, sir,
That were but now discover’d to her master. 10

_Mam._ Excellent witty Lungs!—My only care is
Where to get stuff enough now, to project on;[1862]
This town will not half serve me.

_Face._ No, sir? Buy
The covering off o’ churches.

_Mam._ That ’s true.

_Face._ Yes.
Let ’em stand bare, as do their auditory;[1863] 15
Or cap ’em new with shingles.

_Mam._ No, good thatch:
Thatch will lie light upo’ the rafters, Lungs.
Lungs, I will manumit thee from the furnace;
I will restore thee thy complexion, Puff,
Lost in the embers; and repair this brain, 20
Hurt wi’ the fume o’ the metals.

_Face._ I have blown, sir,
Hard, for your worship; thrown by many a coal,
When ’t was not beech; weigh’d those I put in, just
To keep your heat still even. These blear’d eyes
Have wak’d to read your several colours, sir, 25
Of the pale citron, the green lion, the crow,
The peacock’s tail, the plumed swan.

_Mam._ And lastly,
Thou hast descried the flower, the _sanguis agni_?

_Face._ Yes, sir.

_Mam._ Where ’s master?

_Face._ At ’s prayers, sir, be;
Good man, he ’s doing his devotions 30
For the success.

_Mam._ Lungs, I will set a period
To all thy labours; thou shalt be the master
Of my seraglio.

_Face._ Good, sir.

_Mam._ But do you hear?
I ’ll geld you, Lungs.

_Face._ Yes, sir.

_Mam._ For I do mean
To have a list of wives and concubines 35
Equal with Solomon, who had the stone
Alike with me; and I will make me a back
With the elixir, that shall be as tough
As Hercules, to encounter fifty a night.—
Thou ’rt sure thou saw ’st it blood?

_Face._ Both blood and spirit, sir. 40

_Mam._ 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 45
Cut in more subtle angles, to disperse
And multiply the figures, as I walk
Naked between my succubae.[1864] My mists
I ’ll have of perfume, vapour’d ’bout the room,
To lose our selves in; and my baths, like pits 50
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 [a] rich lawyer,
Have a sublim’d pure wife, unto that fellow 55
I ’ll send a thousand pound to be my cuckold.

_Face._ And I shall carry it?

_Mam._ No. I ’ll ha’ no bawds
But fathers and mothers: they will do it best,
Best of all others. And my flatterers
Shall be the pure and gravest of divines, 60
That I can get for money. My mere fools,
Eloquent burgesses, and then my poets
The same that writ so subtly of the fart,
Whom I will entertain still for that subject.
The few that would give out themselves to be 65
Court and town-stallions, and, each-where, bely
Ladies who are known most innocent, for them,—
Those will I beg, to make me eunuchs of:
And they shall fan me with ten estrich tails
A-piece, made in a plume to gather wind. 70
We will be brave, Puff, now we ha’ the med’cine.
My meat shall all come in, in Indian shells,
Dishes of agate set in gold, and studded
With emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths, and rubies.
The tongues of carps, dormice, and camels’ heels, 75
Boil’d i’ the spirit of sol, and dissolv’d pearl
(Apicius’ diet, ’gainst the epilepsy):
And I will eat these broths with spoons of amber,
Headed with diamond and carbuncle.
My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, calver’d salmons,[1865] 80
Knots,[1866] godwits, lampreys: I myself will have
The beards of barbel[1867] serv’d, instead of salads;
Oil’d mushrooms; and the swelling unctuous paps
Of a fat pregnant sow, newly cut off,
Drest with an exquisite and poignant sauce; 85
For which, I ’ll say unto my cook, _There ’s gold_;
_Go forth, and be a knight._

_Face._ Sir, I ’ll go look
A little, how it heightens. [_Exit._]

_Mam._ Do.—My shirts
I ’ll have of taffeta-sarsnet,[1868] soft and light
As cobwebs; and for all my other raiment, 90
It shall be such as might provoke the Persian,
Were he to teach the world riot anew.
My gloves of fishes and birds’ skins, perfum’d
With gums of paradise, and Eastern air——

_Sur._ And do you think to have the stone with this? 95

_Mam._ No, I do think t’ have all this with the stone.

_Sur._ Why, I have heard he must be _homo frugi_,[1869]
A pious, holy, and religious man,
One free from mortal sin, a very virgin.

_Mam._ That makes it, sir; he is so. But I buy it; 100
My venture brings it me. He, honest wretch,
A notable, superstitious, good soul,
Has worn his knees bare, and his slippers bald,
With prayer and fasting for it: and, sir, let him
Do it alone, for me, still. Here he comes. 105
Not a profane word afore him; ’t is poison.—

SCENE III.[1870]

MAMMON, SURLY. [_Enter_] SUBTLE.

_Mam._ Good morrow, father.

_Sub._ Gentle son, good morrow,
And to your friend there. What is he is with you?

_Mam._ An heretic, that I did bring along,
In hope, sir, to convert him.

_Sub._ Son, I doubt
You ’re covetous, that thus you meet your time
I’ the just[1871] point, prevent[1872] your day at morning. 6
This argues something worthy of a fear
Of importune and carnal appetite.
Take heed you do not cause the blessing leave you,
With your ungovern’d haste. I should be sorry
To see my labours, now e’en at perfection, 11
Got by long watching and large patience,
Not prosper where my love and zeal hath plac’d ’em.
Which (heaven I call to witness, with your self,
To whom I have pour’d my thoughts) in all my ends, 15
Have look’d no way, but unto public good,
To pious uses, and dear charity,
Now grown a prodigy with men. Wherein
If you, my son, should now prevaricate,
And to your own particular lusts employ 20
So great and catholic a bliss, be sure
A curse will follow, yea, and overtake
Your subtle and most secret ways.

_Mam._ I know, sir;
You shall not need to fear me; I but come
To ha’ you confute this gentleman.

_Sur._ Who is, 25
Indeed, sir, somewhat costive of belief
Toward your stone; would not be gull’d.

_Sub._ Well, son,
All that I can convince him in, is this,
The work is done, bright Sol is in his robe.
We have a med’cine of the triple soul, 30
The glorified spirit. Thanks be to heaven,
And make us worthy of it!—=Ulen Spiegel!=[1873]

_Face._ [_within._] Anon, sir.

_Sub._ Look well to the register.
And let your heat still lessen by degrees,
To the aludels.[1874] 35

_Face._ [_within._] Yes, sir.

_Sub._ Did you look
O’ the bolt’s head yet?

_Face._ [_within._] Which? On D, sir?

_Sub._ Ay;
What’s the complexion?

_Face._ [_within._] Whitish.

_Sub._ Infuse vinegar, 40
To draw his volatile substance and his tincture:
And let the water in glass E be filt’red,
And put into the gripe’s egg.[1875] Lute[1876] him well;
And leave him clos’d _in balneo_.[1877]

_Face._ [_within._] I will, sir.

_Sur._ What a brave language here is! next to canting.[1878] 45

_Sub._ I have another work you never saw, son,
That three days since past the philosopher’s wheel,
In the lent heat of Athanor;[1879] and ’s become
Sulphur o’ Nature.

_Mam._ But ’tis for me?

_Sub._ What need you?
You have enough, in that is, perfect.

_Mam._ O, but—— 50

_Sub._ Why, this is covetise!

_Mam._ No, I assure you,
I shall employ it all in pious uses,
Founding of colleges and grammar schools,
Marrying young virgins, building hospitals,
And, now and then, a church.

[_Re-enter_ FACE.]

_Sub._ How now!

_Face._ Sir, please you, 55
Shall I not change the filter?

_Sub._ Marry, yes;
And bring me the complexion of glass B. [_Exit_ FACE.]

_Mam._ Ha’ you another?

_Sub._ Yes, son; were I assur’d
Your piety were firm, we would not want
The means to glorify it: but I hope the best. 60
I mean to tinct C in sand-heat to-morrow,
And give him imbibition.[1880]

_Mam._ Of white oil?

_Sub._ No, sir, of red. F is come over the helm too,
I thank my maker, in S. Mary’s bath.
And shows _lac virginis_. Blessed be heaven! 65
I sent you of his faeces there calcin’d:
Out of that calx, I ha’ won the salt of mercury.

_Mam._ By pouring on your rectified water?

_Sub._ Yes, and reverberating in Athanor.
[_Re-enter_ FACE.]
How now! what colour says it?

_Face._ The ground black, sir. 70

_Mam._ That’s your crow’s head?

_Sur._ Your cock’s comb’s, is it not?

_Sub._ No, ’t is not perfect. Would it were the crow!
That work wants something.

_Sur._ [_Aside._] O, I look’d for this,
The hay’s[1881] a pitching.

_Sub._ Are you sure you loos’d ’em
In their own menstrue?[1882]

_Face._ Yes, sir, and then married ’em, 75
And put ’em in a bolt’s-head nipp’d to digestion,
According as you bade me, when I set
The liquor of Mars to circulation
In the same heat.

_Sub._ The process then was right. 79

_Face._ Yes, by the token, sir, the retort brake,
And what was sav’d was put into the pellican,
And sign’d with Hermes’ seal.

_Sub._ I think ’t was so.
We should have a new amalgama.

_Sur._ [_Aside._] O, this ferret
Is rank as any polecat.

_Sub._ But I care not;
Let him e’en die; we have enough beside, 85
In embrion. H has his white shirt on?

_Face._ Yes, sir,
He’s ripe for inceration, he stands warm,
In his ash-fire. I would not you should let
Any die now, if I might counsel, sir,
For luck’s sake to the rest: it is not good. 90

_Mam._ He says right.

_Sur._ (_Aside._) Ay, are you bolted?

_Face._ Nay, I know ’t, sir,
I ’ve seen th’ ill fortune. What is some three ounces
Of fresh materials?

_Mam._ Is ’t no more?

_Face._ No more, sir,
Of gold, t’ amalgam with some six of mercury.

_Mam._ Away, here’s money. What will serve?

_Face._ Ask him, sir. 94

_Mam._ How much?

_Sub._ Give him nine pound: you may gi’ him ten.

_Sur._ Yes, twenty, and be cozen’d, do.

_Mam._ There ’t is. [_Gives_ FACE _the money_.]

_Sub._ This needs not; but that you will have it so,
To see conclusions of all: for two
Of our inferior works are at fixation, 100
A third is in ascension. Go your ways.
Ha’ you set the oil of Luna in kemia?

_Face._ Yes, sir.

_Sub._ And the philosopher’s vinegar?

_Face._ Ay. [_Exit._]

_Sur._ We shall have a salad!

_Mam._ When do you make projection?

_Sub._ Son, be not hasty, I exalt our med’cine,
By hanging him _in balneo vaporoso_, 105
And giving him solution; then congeal him;
And then dissolve him; then again congeal him;
For look, how oft I iterate the work,
So many times I add unto his virtue. 110
As, if at first one ounce convert a hundred,
After his second loose, he ’ll turn a thousand;
His third solution, ten; his fourth, a hundred;
After his fifth, a thousand thousand ounces
Of any imperfect metal, into pure 115
Silver or gold, in all examinations,
As good as any of the natural mine.
Get you your stuff here against afternoon,
Your brass, your pewter, and your andirons.

_Mam._ Not those of iron?

_Sub._ Yes, you may bring them too; 120
We ’ll change all metals.

_Sur._ I believe you in that.

_Mam._ Then I may send my spits?

_Sub._ Yes, and your racks.

_Sur._ And dripping-pans, and pot-hangers, and hooks?
Shall he not?

_Sub._ If he please.

_Sur._ —To be an ass. 124

_Sub._ How, sir!

_Mam._ This gent’man you must bear withal.
I told you he had no faith.

_Sur._ And little hope, sir;
But much less charity, should I gull myself.

_Sub._ Why, what have you observ’d, sir, in our art,
Seems so impossible?

_Sur._ But your whole work, no more.
That you should hatch gold in a furnace, sir,
As they do eggs in Egypt!

_Sub._ Sir, do you 131
Believe that eggs are hatch’d so?

_Sur._ If I should?

_Sub._ Why, I think that the greater miracle.
No egg but differs from a chicken more
Than metals in themselves.

_Sur._ That cannot be. 135
The egg’s ordain’d by nature to that end,
And is a chicken _in potentia_.

_Sub._ The same we say of lead and other metals,
Which would be gold if they had time.

_Mam._ And that
Our art doth further.

_Sub._ Ay, for ’t were absurd 140
To think that nature in the earth bred gold
Perfect i’ the instant: something went before.
There must be remote matter.

_Sur._ Ay, what is that?

_Sub._ Marry, we say——

_Mam._ Ay, now it heats: stand, father,
Pound him to dust.

_Sub._ It is, of the one part, 145
A humid exhalation, which we call
_Materia liquida_, or the unctuous water;
On th’ other part, a certain crass and viscous
Portion of earth; both which, concorporate,
Do make the elementary matter of gold; 150
Which is not yet _proprio materia_,
But common to all metals and all stones;
For, where it is forsaken of that moisture,
And hath more dryness, it becomes a stone:
Where it retains more of the humid fatness, 155
It turns to sulphur, or to quicksilver,
Who are the parents of all other metals.
Nor can this remote matter suddenly
Progress so from extreme unto extreme, 159
As to grow gold, and leap o’er all the means.
Nature doth first beget th’ imperfect, then
Proceeds she to the perfect. Of that airy
And oily water, mercury is engend’red;
Sulphur o’ the fat and earthy part; the one, 164
Which is the last, supplying the place of male,
The other of the female, in all metals.
Some do believe hermaphrodeity,
That both do act and suffer. But these two
Make the rest ductile, malleable, extensive.
And even in gold they are; for we do find 170
Seeds of them by our fire, and gold in them;
And can produce the species of each metal
More perfect thence, than nature doth in earth.
Beside, who doth not see in daily practice
Art can beget bees, hornets, beetles, wasps, 175
Out of the carcases and dung of creatures;
Yea, scorpions of an herb, being rightly plac’d?
And these are living creatures, far more perfect
And excellent than metals.

_Mam._ Well said, father!
Nay, if he take you in hand, sir, with an argument, 180
He ’ll bray you in a mortar.

_Sur._ Pray you, sir, stay.
Rather than I ’ll be bray’d, sir, I ’ll believe
That Alchemy is a pretty kind of game,
Somewhat like tricks o’ the cards, to cheat a man
With charming.

_Sub._ Sir?

_Sur._ What else are all your terms, 185
Whereon no one o’ your writers ’grees with other?
Of your elixir, your _lac virginis_,
Your stone, your med’cine, and your chrysosperm,
Your sal, your sulphur, and your mercury, 189
Your oil of height, your tree of life, your blood,
Your marchesite, your tutie, your magnesia,
Your toad, your crow, your dragon, and your panther;
Your sun, your moon, your firmament, your adrop,
Your lato, azoch, zernich, chibrit, heautarit, 194
And then your red man, and your white woman,
With all your broths, your menstrues, and materials
Of piss and egg-shells, women’s terms, man’s blood,
Hair o’ the head, burnt clouts, chalk, merds, and clay,
Powder of bones, scalings of iron, glass,
And worlds of other strange ingredients, 200
Would burst a man to name?

_Sub._ And all these, nam’d,
Intending but one thing; which art our writers
Us’d to obscure their art.

_Mam._ Sir, so I told him—
Because[1883] the simple idiot should not learn it,
And make it vulgar.

_Sub._ Was not all the knowledge 205
Of the Aegyptians writ in mystic symbols?
Speak not the scriptures oft in parables?
Are not the choicest fables of the poets,
That were the fountains and first springs of wisdom,
Wrapt in perplexed allegories?

_Mam._ I urg’d that, 210
And clear’d to him, that Sisyphus was damn’d
To roll the ceaseless stone, only because
He would have made ours common.
(DOL _is seen_) [_at the door._]—Who is this?

_Sub._ God’s precious!—What do you mean?
Go in, good lady.
Let me entreat you. [DOL _retires_.]—Where ’s this varlet?

[_Re-enter_ FACE.]

_Face._ Sir. 215

_Sub._ You very knave! do you use me thus?

_Face._ Wherein, sir?

_Sub._ Go in and see, you traitor. Go! [_Exit_ FACE.]

_Mam._ Who is it, sir?

_Sub._ Nothing, sir; nothing.

_Mam._ What ’s the matter, good sir?
I have not seen you thus distemp’red: who is ’t?

_Sub._ All arts have still had, sir, their adversaries; 220
But ours the most ignorant.—
FACE _returns_.
What now?

_Face._ ’T was not my fault, sir; she would speak with you.

_Sub._ Would she, sir! Follow me. [_Exit._]

_Mam._ [_stopping him._] Stay, Lungs.

_Face._ I dare not, sir.

_Mam._ How! pray thee, stay.

_Face._ She ’s mad, sir, and sent hither— 225

_Mam._ Stay, man; what is she?

_Face._ A lord’s sister, sir.
He ’ll be mad too.—

_Mam._ I warrant thee.—Why sent hither?

_Face._ Sir, to be cur’d.

_Sub._ [_within._] Why, rascal!

_Face._ Lo you!—Here, sir! _Exit._

_Mam._ ’Fore God, a Bradamante, a brave piece.

_Sur._ Heart, this is a bawdy-house! I ’ll be burnt else. 230

_Mam._ O, by this light, no: do not wrong him. He ’s
Too scrupulous that way: it is his vice.
No, he ’s a rare physician, do him right,
An excellent Paracelsian, and has done
Strange cures with mineral physic. He deals all
With spirits, he; he will not hear a word 236
Of Galen; or his tedious recipes.—
FACE _again_.
How now, Lungs!

_Face._ Softly, sir; speak softly. I meant
To ha’ told your worship all. This must not hear.

_Mam._ No, he will not be gull’d; let him alone.

_Face._ You ’re very right, sir; she is a most rare scholar, 241
And is gone mad with studying Broughton’s[1884] works.
If you but name a word touching the Hebrew,
She falls into her fit, and will discourse
So learnedly of genealogies, 245
As you would run mad too, to hear her, sir.

_Mam._ How might one do t’ have conference with her. Lungs?

_Face._ O, divers have run mad upon the conference.
I do not know, sir: I am sent in haste
To fetch a vial.

_Sur._ Be not gull’d. Sir Mammon. 250

_Mam._ Wherein? Pray ye, be patient.

_Sur._ Yes, as you are,
And trust confederate knaves and bawds and whores.

_Mam._ You are too foul, believe it.—Come here, =Ulen=,
One word.

_Face._ I dare not, in good faith. [_Going._]

_Mam._ Stay, knave.

_Face._ He ’s extreme angry that you saw her, sir. 255

_Mam._ Drink that. [_Gives him money._] What is she when she ’s out
of her fit?

_Face._ O, the most affablest creature, sir! so merry!
So pleasant! She ’ll mount you up, like quicksilver,
Over the helm; and circulate like oil,
A very vegetal: discourse of state, 260
Of mathematics, bawdry, anything——

_Mam._ Is she no way accessible? no means,
No trick to give a man a taste of her——wit——
Or so?

[_Sub. within._] =Ulen!=

_Face._ I ’ll come to you again, sir. [_Exit._]

_Mam._ Surly, I did not think one o’ your breeding 266
Would traduce personages of worth.

_Sur._ Sir Epicure,
Your friend to use; yet still loth to be gull’d:
I do not like your philosophical bawds.
Their stone is lechery enough to pay for, 270
Without this bait.

_Mam._ Heart, you abuse yourself.
I know the lady, and her friends, and means,
The original of this disaster. Her brother
Has told me all.

_Sur._ And yet you ne’er saw her
Till now! 275

_Mam._ O yes, but I forgot. I have, believe it,
One o’ the treacherous’st memories, I do think,
Of all mankind.

_Sur._ What call you her brother?

_Mam._ My lord——
He wi’ not have his name known, now I think on ’t.

_Sur._ A very treacherous memory!

_Mam._ O’ my faith—— 280

_Sur._ Tut, if you ha’ it not about you, pass it
Till we meet next.

_Mam._ Nay, by this hand, ’t is true.
He ’s one I honour, and my noble friend;
And I respect his house.

_Sur._ Heart! can it be
That a grave sir, a rich, that has no need, 285
A wise sir, too, at other times, should thus,
With his own oaths, and arguments, make hard means
To gull himself? An this be your elixir,
Your _lapis mineralis_, and your lunary,
Give me your honest trick yet at primero, 290
Or gleek,[1885] and take your _lutum sapientis_,
Your _menstruum simplex_! I ’ll have gold before you,
And with less danger of the quicksilver,
Or the hot sulphur.

[_Re-enter_ FACE.]

_Face._ Here ’s one from Captain Face, sir. (_To_ SURLY.) 295
Desires you meet him i’ the Temple-church,
Some half-hour hence, and upon earnest business.
Sir, (_whispers_ MAMMON) if you please to quit us now, and come
Again within two hours, you shall have
My master busy examining o’ the works; 300
And I will steal you in unto the party,
That you may see her converse.—Sir, shall I say
You ’ll meet the captain’s worship?

_Sur._ Sir, I will.— [_Walks aside._]
But, by attorney, and to a second purpose.
Now, I am sure it is a bawdy-house; 305
I ’ll swear it, were the marshal here to thank me:
The naming this commander doth confirm it.
Don Face! why, he ’s the most authentic dealer
I’ these commodities, the superintendent
To all the quainter traffickers in town! 310
He is the visitor, and does appoint
Who lies with whom, and at what hour; what price;
Which gown, and in what smock; what fall;[1886] what tire.[1887]
Him will I prove, by a third person, to find
The subtleties of this dark labyrinth: 315
Which if I do discover, dear Sir Mammon,
You ’ll give your poor friend leave, though no philosopher,
To laugh; for you that are, ’t is thought, shall weep.

_Face._ Sir, he does pray you ’ll not forget.

_Sur._ I will not, sir.
Sir Epicure, I shall leave you. [_Exit._]

_Mam._ I follow you straight, 320

_Face._ But do so, good sir, to avoid suspicion.
This gent’man has a parlous head.

_Mam._ But wilt thou, =Ulen=,
Be constant to thy promise?

_Face._ As my life, sir.

_Mam._ And wilt thou insinuate what I am, and praise me,
And say I am a noble fellow?

_Face._ O, what else, sir? 325
And that you ’ll make her royal with the stone,
An empress; and yourself King of Bantam.

_Mam._ Wilt thou do this?

_Face._ Will I, sir!

_Mam._ Lungs, my Lungs!
I love thee.

_Face._ Send your stuff, sir, that my master
May busy himself about projection. 330

_Mam._ Thou ’st witch’d me, rogue: take, go. [_Gives him money._]

_Face._ Your jack, and all, sir.

_Mam._ Thou art a villain—I will send my jack,
And the weights too. Slave, I could bite thine ear.
Away, thou dost not care for me.

_Face._ Not I, sir!

_Mam._ Come, I was born to make thee, my good weasel, 325
Set thee on a bench, and ha’ thee twirl a chain
With the best lord’s vermin of ’em all.

_Face._ Away, sir.

_Mam._ A count, nay, a count palatine——

_Face._ Good sir, go.

_Mam._ Shall not advance thee better: no, nor faster. [_Exit._]

SCENE IV.[1888]

FACE. [_Re-enter_] SUBTLE _and_ DOL.

_Sub._ Has he bit? has he bit?

_Face._ And swallow’d, too, my Subtle.
I ha’ given him line, and now he plays, i’ faith.

_Sub._ And shall we twitch him?

_Face._ Thorough both the gills.
A wench is a rare bait, with which a man
No sooner ’s taken, but he straight firks mad.[1889] 5

_Sub._ Dol, my Lord What’s-hum’s sister, you must now
Bear yourself _statelich_.

_Dol._ O, let me alone,
I ’ll not forget my race, I warrant you.
I ’ll keep my distance, laugh and talk aloud;
Have all the tricks of a proud scurvy lady, 10
And be as rude ’s her woman.

_Face._ Well said, sanguine![1890]

_Sub._ But will he send his andirons?

_Face._ His jack too,
And ’s iron shoeing-horn; I ha’ spoke to him. Well,
I must not lose my wary gamester yonder.

_Sub._ O, Monsieur Caution, that will not be gull’d? 15

_Face._ Ay,
If I can strike a fine hook into him, now!—
The Temple-church, there I have cast mine angle.
Well, pray for me. I ’ll about it.
(_One knocks._)

_Sub._ What, more gudgeons![1891] 20
Dol, scout, scout! [DOL _goes to the window_.] Stay, Face, you must
go to the door;
’Pray God it be my anabaptist—Who is ’t, Dol?

_Dol._ I know him not: he looks like a gold-end-man.[1892]

_Sub._ Gods so! ’t is he, he said he would send—what call you him?
The sanctified elder, that should deal 25
For Mammon’s jack and andirons. Let him in.
Stay, help me off, first, with my gown. [_Exit_ FACE _with the
gown_.] Away,
Madam, to your withdrawing chamber. Now, [_Exit_ DOL.]
In a new tune, new gesture, but old language.—
This fellow is sent from one negotiates with me
About the stone too, for the holy brethren 31
Of Amsterdam, the exil’d saints, that hope
To raise their discipline[1893] by it. I must use him
In some strange fashion now, to make him admire me.

SCENE V.[1894]

SUBTLE. [_Enter_] ANANIAS.

Where is my drudge? [_Aloud._]

[_Enter_] FACE.

_Face._ Sir!

_Sub._ Take away the recipient,
And rectify your menstrue from the phlegma.
Then pour it on the Sol, in the cucurbite,
And let ’em macerate together.

_Face._ Yes, sir.
And save the ground?

_Sub._ No: _terra damnata_ 5
Must not have entrance in the work.—Who are you?

_Ana._ A faithful brother,[1895] if it please you.

_Sub._ What ’s that?
A Lullianist? a Ripley?[1896] _Filius artis?_
Can you sublime and dulcify? Calcine?
Know you the sapor pontic? Sapor stiptic? 10
Or what is homogene, or heterogene?

_Ana._ I understand no heathen language, truly.

_Sub._ Heathen! You Knipperdoling?[1897] Is Ars sacra,
Or chrysopoeia, or spagyrica,
Or the pamphysic, or panarchic knowledge, 15
A heathen language?

_Ana._ Heathen Greek, I take it.

_Sub._ How! Heathen Greek?

_Ana._ All ’s heathen but the Hebrew.

_Sub._ Sirrah my varlet, stand you forth and speak to him
Like a philosopher: answer i’ the language.
Name the vexations, and the martyrizations 20
Of metals in the work.

_Face._ Sir, putrefaction,
Solution, ablution, sublimation,
Cohobation, calcination, ceration, and
Fixation.

_Sub._ This is heathen Greek, to you, now!—
And when comes vivification?

_Face._ After mortification. 25

_Sub._ What ’s cohobation?

_Face._ ’T is the pouring on
Your _aqua regis_, and then drawing him off,
To the trine circle of the seven spheres.

_Sub._ What ’s the proper passion of metals?

_Face._ Malleation.

_Sub._ What ’s your _ultimum supplicium auri_?

_Face._ Antimonium. 30

_Sub._ This ’s heathen Greek to you!—And what ’s your mercury?

_Face._ A very fugitive, he will be gone, sir.

_Sub._ How know you him?

_Face._ By his viscosity,
His oleosity, and his suscitability.

_Sub._ How do you sublime him?

_Face._ With the calce of egg-shells, 35
White marble, talc.

_Sub._ Your magisterium now,
What ’s that?

_Face._ Shifting, sir, your elements,
Dry into cold, cold into moist, moist into hot,
Hot into dry.

_Sub._ This is heathen Greek to you still!
Your _lapis philosophicus_?

_Face._ ’T is a stone, 40
And not a stone; a spirit, a soul, and a body:
Which if you do dissolve, it is dissolv’d;
If you coagulate, it is coagulated;
If you make it to fly, it flieth.

_Sub._ Enough. [_Exit_ FACE.]
This ’s heathen Greek to you! What are you, sir? 45

_Ana._ Please you, a servant of the exil’d brethren,
That deal with widows’ and with orphans’ goods,
And make a just account unto the saints:
A deacon.

_Sub._ O, you are sent from Master Wholesome,
Your teacher?

_Ana._ From Tribulation Wholesome, 51
Our very zealous pastor.

_Sub._ Good! I have
Some orphans’ goods to come here.

_Ana._ Of what kind, sir?

_Sub._ Pewter and brass, andirons and kitchen-ware.
Metals, that we must use our med’cine on: 55
Wherein the brethren may have a penn’orth
For ready money.

_Ana._ Were the orphans’ parents
Sincere professors?

_Sub._ Why do you ask?

_Ana._ Because
We then are to deal justly, and give, in truth,
Their utmost value.

_Sub._ ’Slid, you ’d cozen else, 60
An if their parents were not of the faithful!—
I will not trust you, now I think on it,
Till I ha’ talk’d with your pastor. Ha’ you brought money
To buy more coals?

_Ana._ No, surely.

_Sub._ No? How so?

_Ana._ The brethren bid me say unto you, sir,
Surely, they will not venture any more 66
Till they may see projection.

_Sub._ How!

_Ana._ You ’ve had
For the instruments, as bricks, and lome, and glasses,
Already thirty pound; and for materials,
They say, some ninety more: and they have heard since, 70
That one, at Heidelberg, made it of an egg,
And a small paper of pin-dust.

_Sub._ What’s your name?

_Ana._ My name is Ananias.

_Sub._ Out, the varlet
That cozen’d the apostles! Hence, away!
Flee, mischief! had your holy consistory 75
No name to send me, of another sound
Than wicked Ananias? Send your elders
Hither, to make atonement for you, quickly,
And gi’ me satisfaction; or out goes
The fire; and down th’ alembics, and the furnace, 80
_Piger Henricus_, or what not. Thou wretch!
Both _sericon_ and _bufo_ shall be lost.
Tell ’em. All hope of rooting out the bishops,
Or th’ anti-Christian hierarchy shall perish,
If they stay threescore minutes: the aqueity,
Terreity, and sulphureity 86
Shall run together again, and all be annull’d.
Thou wicked Ananias! [_Exit_ ANANIAS.] This will fetch ’em,
And make ’em haste towards their gulling more.
A man must deal like a rough nurse, and fright
Those that are froward, to an appetite. 91

SCENE VI.[1898]

SUBTLE. [_Enter_] FACE [_in his uniform, followed by_] DRUGGER.

_Face._ He ’s busy with his spirits, but we’ll upon him.

_Sub._ How now! What mates, what Bayards[1899] ha’ we here?

_Face._ I told you he would be furious.—Sir, here ’s Nab
Has brought you another piece of gold to look on;
—We must appeass him. Give it me,—and prays you, 5
You would devise—what is it, Nab?

_Drug._ A sign, sir.

_Face._ Ay, a good lucky one, a thriving sign, doctor.

_Sub._ I was devising now.

_Face._ [_Aside to_ SUBTLE.] ’Slight, do not say so,
He will repent he ga’ you any more.—
What say you to his constellation, doctor, 10
The Balance?

_Sub._ No, that way is stale and common.
A townsman born in Taurus, gives the bull,
Or the bull’s head: in Aries, the ram,—
A poor-device! No, I will have his name 14
Form’d in some mystic character; whose _radii_,
Striking the senses of the passers-by,
Shall, by a virtual[1900] influence, breed affections,
That may result upon the party owns it:
As thus—— 19

_Face._ Nab!

_Sub._ He first shall have a _bell_, that’s _Abel_;
And by it standing one whose name is _Dee_,[1901]
In a _rug_[1902] gown, there’s _D_, and _Rug_, that ’s _drug_
And right anenst him a dog snarling _er_;
There’s Drugger, Abel Drugger. That ’s his sign.
And here ’s now mystery and hieroglyphic! 25

_Face._ Abel, thou art made.

_Drug._ Sir, I do thank his worship.

_Face._ Six o’ thy legs[1903] more will not do it, Nab.
He has brought you a pipe of tobacco, doctor.

_Drug._ Yes, sir;
I have another thing I would impart—— 29

_Face._ Out with it, Nab.

_Drug._ Sir, there is lodg’d, hard by me,
A rich young widow——

_Face._ Good! a bona roba?[1904]

_Drug._ But nineteen at the most.

_Face._ Very good, Abel.

_Drug._ Marry, she’s not in fashion yet; she wears
A hood, but ’t stands a cop.[1905]

_Face._ No matter, Abel.

_Drug._ And I do now and then give her a fucus[1906]—— 35

_Face._ What! dost thou deal, Nab?

_Sub._ I did tell you, captain.

_Drug._ And physic too, sometime, sir; for which she trusts me
With all her mind. She’s come up here of purpose
To learn the fashion.

_Face._ Good (his match too!)—On, Nab.

_Drug._ And she does strangely long to know her fortune. 40

_Face._ God’s lid, Nab, send her to the doctor, hither.

_Drug._ Yes, I have spoke to her of his worship already;
But she ’s afraid it will be blown abroad,
And hurt her a marriage.

_Face._ Hurt it! ’t is the way
To heal it, if ’t were hurt; to make it more 45
Follow’d and sought. Nab, thou shalt tell her this.
She ’ll be more known, more talk’d of; and your widows
Are ne’er of any price till they be famous;
Their honour is their multitude of suitors. 49
Send her, it may be thy good fortune. What!
Thou dost not know?

_Drug._ No, sir, she ’ll never marry
Under a knight: her brother has made a vow.

_Face._ What! and dost thou despair, my little Nab,
Knowing what the doctor has set down for thee,
And seeing so many o’ the city dubb’d? 55
One glass o’ thy water, with a madam I know,
Will have it done, Nab. What ’s her brother? a knight?

_Drug._ No, sir, a gentleman newly warm in ’s land, sir,
Scarce cold in his one and twenty, that does govern
His sister here; and is a man himself 60
Of some three thousand a year, and is come up
To learn to quarrel, and to live by his wits,
And will go down again, and die i’ the country.

_Face._ How! to quarrel?

_Drug._ Yes, sir, to carry quarrels,
As gallants do; to manage ’em by line. 65

_Face._ ’Slid, Nab, the doctor is the only man
In Christendom for him. He has made a table,
With mathematical demonstrations,
Touching the art of quarrels: he will give him
An instrument to quarrel by. Go, bring ’em both, 70
Him and his sister. And, for thee, with her
The doctor happ’ly may persuade. Go to:
’Shalt give his worship a new damask suit
Upon the premises.

_Sub._ O, good captain!

_Face._ He shall;
He is the honestest fellow, doctor. Stay not, 75
No offers; bring the damask, and the parties.

_Drug._ I ’ll try my power, sir.

_Face._ And thy will too, Nab.

_Sub._ ’T is good tobacco, this! What is ’t an ounce?

_Face._ He ’ll send you a pound, doctor.

_Sub._ O no.

_Face._ He will do ’t.
It is the goodest soul!—Abel, about it. 80
Thou shalt know more anon. Away, be gone. [_Exit_ ABEL.]
A miserable rogue, and lives with cheese,
And has the worms. That was the cause, indeed,
Why he came now: he dealth with me in private, 84
To get a med’cine for ’em.

_Sub._ And shall, sir. This works.

_Face._ A wife, a wife for one on ’s, my dear Subtle!
We ’ll e’en draw lots, and he that fails, shall have
The more in goods, the other has in tail.

_Sub._ Rather the less; for she may be so light
She may want grains.

_Face._ Ay; or be such a burden, 90
A man would scarce endure her for the whole.

_Sub._ Faith, best let ’s see her first, and then determine.

_Face._ Content: but Dol must ha’ no breath on ’t.

_Sub._ Mum.
Away you, to your Surly yonder, catch him.

_Face._ Pray God I ha’ not staid too long. 95

_Sub._ I fear it. [_Exeunt._]