If I do see 'em

Face. What! my honest Abel? Thou art well met here!

Drug. Troth, sir, I was speaking,

Just as your worship came here, of your worship.
I pray you, speak for me to master doctor.
Face. He shall do any thing.-Doctor, do
you hear?

This is my friend Abel, an honest fellow,
He lets me have good tobacco, and he does not
Sophisticate it with sack-lees, or oil,
Nor washes it in muscadel and grains,
Nor buries it in gravel under ground,
Wrapp'd up in greasy leather, or piss'd clouts:
But keeps it in fine lily-pots, that, open'd,
Smell like conserve of roses, or French beans.
He has his maple-block, his silver tongs,
Winchester pipes, and fire of juniper:-
A neat, spruce, honest fellow, and no goldsmith.
Sub. He's a fortunate fellow, that I am sure

I'm amus'd at that!

Sub. By a rule, captain,

In metaposcopy, which I do work by,

A certain star i'th'forehead, which you see not.
Your chesnut, or your olive-colour'd face,
Does never fail; and your long ear doth promise.
I knew't by certain spots, too, in his teeth,
And on the nail of his mercurial finger.
Fare. Which finger's that?
Sb. His little finger. Look,
You were born upon a Wednesday?
Drug. Yes, indeed, sir.

Sub. The thumb, in chiromanty, we give Ve

nus;

The fore-finger to Jove; the midst to Saturn;
The ring to Sol; the least, to Mercury:
Who was the lord, sir, of the horoscope,
His house of lite being Libra, which foreshew'd
He should be a merchant, and should trade with
balance.

Face. Why, this is strange! Is't not, honest
Nab?

Sub. There is a ship now coming from Ormus, That shall yield him such a commodity

Of drugs-This is the west, and this the south?
Drug. Yes, sir.

Sub. And those are your two sides?
Drug. Ay, sir.

Sub. Make me your door, then, south; your broadside, west:

And, on the east side of your shop, aloft,
Write Mathlai, Tarmiel, and Baraborat;
Upon the north part, Rael, Velel, Thiel.
They are the names of those mercurial spirits,
That do fright flies from boxes.
Drug. Yes, sir.

Sub. And

And cross out my ill days, that I may neither Bargain, nor trust upon them.

Face. That he shall, Nab.

Leave it, it shall be done 'gainst afternoon.
Sub. And a direction for his shelves.
Face. Now, Nab?

Art thou well pleas'd, Nab?

Drug. Thank, sir, both your worships.
Face. Away!

[Erit DRUG. Why now, you smoky persecutor of Nature! Now, do you see, that something is to be done Beside your beech-coal, and your cor❜sive waters, Your croslets, crucibles, and cucurbites?

You must have stuff brought home to you, to work on?

And yet you think I am at no expence,
In searching out these veins, then following 'em,
Then trying 'em out. 'Fore God, my intelligence
Costs me more money than my share oft comes to
In these rare works.

Sub. You're pleasant, sir. How now?

SCENE IV.

FACE, DOLL, and SUBTLE.

Sub. What says my dainty Dolkin?
Dol. Yonder fishwife

Will not away. And there's your giantess,
The bawd of Lambeth.

Sub. Heart, I cannot speak with 'em.

Dol. Not afore night, I have told 'em, in a
voice,

Through the trunk, like one of your familiars.
But I have spied Sir Epicure Mammon—
Sub. Where?

Dol. Coming along, at far end of the lane,
Slow of his feet, but earnest of his tongue,
To one that's with him.

Sub. Face, go you, and shift.

Dol, you must presently make ready too-
Dol. Why, what's the matter?

Sub. O, I did look for him

With the sun's rising: Marvel he could sleep!
This is the day I am to perfect for him
The magisterium, our great work, the stone,
And yield it, made, into his hands: Of which
He has this month talk'd, as he were possess'd;
And now he's dealing pieces on't away.
Methinks I see him ent'ring ordinaries,
Dispensing for the pox; to plaguy-houses,
Reaching his dose; walking Moorfields for lepers;
And offering citizens' wives pomander bracelets,
As his preservative, made of the elixir;
Searching the Spittle, to make old bawds young;
And the highways for beggars, to make rich:
I see no end of his labours. He will make
Nature asham'd of her long sleep; when Art,
Who's but a step-dame, shall do more than she,
In her best love to mankind, ever could.—
If his dream last, he'll turn the age to gold!
[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

Enter MAMMON and SURLY.

Mam. Come on, sir. Now you set your foot on shore

In novo orbe: 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.-

This is the day wherein, to all my friends,
I will pronounce the happy word, Be rich!
This day you shall be spectatissimi !
You shall no more deal with the hollow die,
Or the frail card. No more be at charge of
keeping!

The livery punk for the young heir, that must
Seal at all hours in his shirt. No more,
If he deny, ha' him beaten to it, as he is
That brings him the commodity. No more
Shall thirst of satin, or the covetous hunger
Of velvet-entrails, 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,
Or go a-feasting after drum and ensign.-

And unto thee, I speak it first, Be rich!-
Where is my Subtle, there? Within ho ?
[Within.] Sir,

He'll come to you by and by.

Mam. That's his fire-drake,

His lungs, his zephyrus, he that puffs his coals, Till he firk Nature up, in her own centre.

You are not faithful, sir. This night, I'll change
All that is metal in thy house to gold.

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,

And make them perfect Indies. You admire now? Sur. No, faith.

Mam. But when you see th' effects of the great medicine!

Of which one part projected on a hundred
Of Mercury, or Venus, or the moon,
Shail turn it to as many of the sun;
Nay, to a thousand, so ad infinitum:

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'rt sure, thou saw'st it blood?

Face. Both blood and spirit, sir.

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,
Cut in more subtle angles, to disperse
And multiply the figures, as I walk
Naked between my succube. 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 gossamour and roses.
(Is it arriv'd at ruby?)Where I spy
A wealthy citizen, or rich lawyer,

Have a sublim'd 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 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,
That I can get for money. My mere fools,
Eloquent burgesses: And then my poets,
The same that write 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 ostrich tails
A-piece, made in a plume to gather wind.
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, saphirs, hyacinths, and rubies.
The tongues of carps, dormice, and camels' heels,
Boil'd i' the spirit of Sol, and dissolv'd pearl,
(Apicius's 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 barbles, serv'd instead of sallads;

Oil'd mushrooms; and the swelling unctuous

paps

Of a fat pregnant sow, newly cut off,
Drest 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 taffata-sarsnet, soft, and light
As cobwebs; and for all 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, perfum'd
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

Sur. Who is,

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,
The glorified spirit. Thanks be to Heav'n,
And make us worthy of it! Ulen Spiegel.
Face. Anon, sir.

Sub. Look well to the register,

And let your heat still lessen by degrees,
To the aludels.

That work wants something,

Sur. O, I look'd for this.

The hay is a-pitching.

Sub. Are you sure, you loos'd 'em

I' their own menstrue?

Face. Yes, sir, and then married 'em,

And put 'em in a bolt's-head, nipp'd to diges tion,

According as you bade me; when I set
The liquor of Mars to circulation,
In the same heat.

Sub. The process, then, was right.

Face. Yes, by the token, sir, the retort brake, And what was saved, was put into the pellican, And sign'd with Hermes's seal.

Sub. I think 'twas so.

We should have a new amalgama. Sur. O, this ferret

Is rank as any polecat.

Sub. But I care not.

Let him e'en die; we have enough beside,
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.
Mam. He says right.

Sur. Ay, are you bolted?
Face. Nay, I know't, sir.

I have seen th' ill fortune. What is some three

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;
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.

Sur. We shall have a sallad.

Mam. When do you make projection? Sub. Son, be not hasty. I exalt our med'cine, By hanging him in balneo vaporoso; And giving him solution; then congeal him;