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Sur. Why, I have heard, he must be bomo frugi, A pious, holy, and religious man, One free from mortal sin, a very virgin.

Mam. That makes.it, fir, he is so. But I buy it. My venture brings it me. 16 He, honest wretch, A notable, superstitious, good soul, Has worn his knees bare, and his Nippers bald, With

prayer and fasting for it: and, sir, let him Do it alone, for me, still. Here he comes. Not a prophane word, afore him : 'tis poyson.

S CE NE III.

Mammon, Subtle, Surly, Face.

Mam. Good morrow, father.

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

Mam. An heretick, that I did bring along, In hope, sir, to convert him.

Sub. Son, I doubt Yo' are covetous, that thus you meet your time I'the just point : prevent your day, at morning. 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, Got by long watching and large patience,

36

Ne, honefl wretch,
A notable, fuperftitious, good soul,

Hath worn his KNEES BARE, &c.] The true hermetic philofophers were extremely devout, and given to prayer : Aubery tells us of Dr Napier, rector of Lyndford in Bucks, a very pious man and hermetic philosopher, that his knees were horny with frequent prayer.

Not

I but come,

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,
Have look'd no way, but unto publick 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 Justs employ
So great and catholick a bliss, be sure
A curse will follow, yea, and overtake
Your subtle and most secret ways.

Mam. I know, fir,
You shall not need to fear me.
To ha' you confute this gentleman.

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 robę.
We have a med'cine of the triple soul,
The glorified spirit. Thanks be to heaven,
And make us worthy of it. Ulen Spiegel.

Fac. Anon, sir.

Sub. Look well to the register,
And let your heat still lefsen by degrees,
To the Aludels.

Fac. Yes, sir.

Sub. Did
O’ the bolts-head yet ?

Fac. Which, on D. sir?

Sub. I.
What's the complexion ?

Fac. Whicih.

Sub. Infuse vinegar,
To draw his volatile substance and his tincture:
And let the water in glass E. be feltred,

And

you look

And put into the Gripe's egg. Lute him well;
And leave him clos'd in balneo.

Fac. I will, fir.
Sur. What a brave language here is! next to canting.

Sub. I have another work, you never saw, son,
That three days since past the philosopher's wheel,
In the lent heat of Athanor; 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
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.

Sub. How now?

Fac. Sir, please you,
Sha!l I not change the feltre ?

Sub. Marry, yes ;
And bring me the complexion of glass B.
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.
I mean to tinct C. in fand-heat to-morrow,
And give him imbibition.

Mam. Of white oil ?

Sub. No, fir, of red. F. is come over the helm too.
I thank my maker, in S. Mary's bath,
And shews lac virginis. Blessed be heaven.
I fent you of his fæces there calcin'd.
Out of that calx, I ha' won the falt of mercury,

Mam. By pouring on your rectified water?
Sub. Yes, and reverberating in Athanor.

How

How now? what colour says it?

Fac. The ground black, sir.
Mam. That's your crow's head?
Sur. Your cocks-comb's, is't not ?

Sub. No, 'tis not perfect, would it were the crow. That work wants something.

Sur. (O I look'd for this. The hay is pitching.)

Sub. Are you sure, you loos’d 'em
I their own menftrue ?

Fac. Yes, sir, and then married 'em,
And put 'em in a bolts-head nipp'd to digestion,
According as you bade me, when I fet
The liquor of Mars to circulation
In the same heat.

Sub. The process then was right.

Fac. Yes, by the token, sir, the retort brake,
And what was fav’d, was put into the Pellicane,
And sign'd with Hermes' seal.

Sub. I think 'twas fo.
We should have a new Amalgama 47.

Sur. (O, this ferret
Is rank as any pole-cat.)

Sub. But I care not.
Let him e'en die; we have enough beside,
In embrion. H. ha's his white shirt on ?

Fac. Yes, sir,
He's ripe for inceration: he stands warm,
In his ash-fire. I would not, you should let
Any dye now, if I might counsel, sir,
For luck's sake to the rest. It is not good.

Mam. He says right.

? We should have a new AMALGAMA.) A mixture of metals with mercury.

Dr. GREY. I have not troubled the reader with the explanation of all the terms of art, which he may learn by consulting his dictionary: fome of them mean the same thing, and the exact meaning of some is dubious,

Sub.

Sur. I, are you bolted ?

Fac. Nay, I know't, sir, I have seen th' ill fortune. What is some three ounces Of fresh materials ?

Mam. Is't no more?

Fac. No more, sir,
Of gold, t'amalgame, with some six of mercury.

Mam. Away, here's money. What will serve ?
Fac. Ask him, sir.
Mam. How much ?
Sub. Give him nine pound: you may gi' him ten.
Sur. Yes, twenty, and be cozen'd, do.
Mam. There 'tis.

Sub. This needs not. But that you will have it so,
To fee 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?

Fac. Yes, fir.
Sub. And the philosophers vinegar.
Fac. I.
Sur. We shall have a fallad.
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 ;
And then dissolve him, then again congeal him :
For look, how oft I iterate the work,
So many times I add unto his virtue.
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
Silver or gold, in all examinations,
As good as any of the natural mine.
Get you your ituff here against afternoon,

Your

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