Sur. Faith I have a humour,

I would not willingly be gull'd. Your stone
Cannot transmute me.

Mam. Pertinax, [my] Surly,

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.

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. 'Tis like your Irish wood,

'Gainst cobwebs. I have a piece of Jason's fleece

too,

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,

The manner of our work; the bulls, our furnace,
Still breathing fire; our Argent-vive, 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,
The alembic, and then sow'd in Mars his field,
And thence sublimed so often, till they're fix'd.
Both this, the Hesperian garden, Cadmus' story,
Jove's shower, the boon of Midas, Argus' eyes,
Boccace his Demogorgon, thousands more,
All abstract riddles of our stone.-

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,

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?

Face. Like a wench with child, sir,

That were but now discover'd to her master. Mam. Excellent witty Lungs !—my only care is, Where to get stuff enough now, to project on ; This town will not half serve me.

Face. No, sir! buy

The covering off o' churches.

Mam. That's true.

Face. Yes.

Let them stand bare, as do their auditory;
Or cap them, new, with shingles.

Mam. No, good thatch :

Thatch will lie light upon the rafters, Lungs.
Lungs, I will manumit thee from the furnace;
I will restore thee thy complexion, Puffe,
Lost in the embers; and repair this brain,
Hurt with the fume o' the metals.

Face. I have blown, sir,

Hard for your worship; thrown by many a coal, When 'twas 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,
Of the pale citron, the green lion, the crow,
The peacock's tail, the plumed swan.

Mam. And, lastly,

Thou hast descry'd the flower, the sanguis agni?

Face. Yes, sir.

Mam. Where 's master?

Face. At his prayers, sir, he;

Good man, he's doing his devotions

For the success.

Mam. Lungs, I will set a period

To all thy labours; thou shalt be the master
Of my seraglio: for I do mean

To have a list of wives and concubines,
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 art sure thou saw'st it blood?

Face. Both blood and spirit, sir.

Mam. I will have all my beds blown up, not stuff'd; 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 succubæ. 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 [a] rich lawyer,
Have a sublimed pure wife, unto that fellow
I'll send a thousand pound to be my cuckold.
Face. And I shall carry it?

Mam. No, I'll have 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,
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
Court and town-stallions, and, each-where, belie
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
Apiece, made in a plume to gather wind.
We will be brave, Puffe, now we have 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,
Boil'd in 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 footboy shall eat pheasants, calver'd salmons,
Knots, godwits, lampreys: I myself will have
The beards of barbels served, instead of salads;
Oil'd mushrooms; and the swelling unctuous paps
Of a fat pregnant sow, newly cut off,

Dress'd with an exquisite and poignant sauce;
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. Mam. Do.-My shirts

I'll have of taffeta-sarsnet, soft and light
As cobwebs; and for all my other raiment,
It shall be such as might provoke the Persian,
Were he to teach the world riot anew.
My gloves of fishes' and birds' skins, perfumed
With gums of paradise, and eastern air-

Sur. And do you think to have the stone with this?
Mam. No, I do think t' have all this with the stone.
Sur. Why, I have heard, he must be homo frugi,
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;
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.
Not a profane word afore him : 'tis poison.

[The judgement is perfectly overwhelmed by the torrent of images, words, and book-knowledge with which Mammon confounds and stuns his incredulous hearer. They come pouring out like the successive strokes of Nilus. They "doubly redouble strokes upon the foe." Description outstrides proof. We are made to believe effects before we have testimony for their causes; as a lively description of the joys of heaven sometimes passes for an argument to prove the existence of such a place. If there be no one image which rises to the height of the sublime, yet the confluence and assemblage of them all produces an effect equal to the grandest poetry. Xerxes' army that drank up whole rivers from their numbers may stand for single Achilles. Epicure Mammon is the most determined offspring of the author. It has the whole "matter and copy of the father, eye, nose, lip, the trick of his frown. 99 It is just such a swaggerer as contemporaries have described old Ben to be. Meercraft, Bobadil, the Host of the New Inn, have all "his image and superscription; " but Mammon is arrogant pretension personified. Sir Sampson Legend, in Love for Love, is such another lying overbearing character, but he does not come up to Epicure Mammon. What a "towering bravery" there is in his sensuality! He affects no pleasure under a sultan. It is as if "Egypt with Assyria strove in luxury."]

IX.

161

L