Shall be the pure, and gravest of divines

That I can get for money. My meet fools,
Eloquent burgesses.

We will be brave, Puffe, now we have the medicine.
My meat shall all come in, in Indian shells.
Dishes of agate set in gold, and studded
With emeralds, saphirs, hyacinths, and rubies.
My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, calver'd salmons,
Knots, godwits, lampreys: I myself will have
The beards of barbels serv'd instead of sallads;
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 taffata-sarsnet, soft and light
As cob-webs, 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, perfum'd
With gums of Paradise, and eastern air—

140

[Exit.

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 prophane word, afore him: 'tis poison.

Enter SUBTLE.

Good-morrow, father.

Sub. Gentle son, good-morrow.

160

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

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 ungoverned haște. I should be sorry
To see my labours, now e'en at perfection,
Got by long watching, and large patience,

Not prosper, where my love and zeal hath placed them.
Which in all my ends,

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 and catholic a bliss, be sure,

So great

180

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 have you to 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 robe.
We have a medicine of the triple soul,

Thanks be to Heaven,

And make us worthy of it. Ulen Spigel!
Face. [Within.] Anon, sir.

Sub. Look well to the register,

And let your heat still lessen by degrees,

"Sub. Infuse vinegar

200

"To draw his volatile substance, and his tincture;

"And let the water in glass E. be filter'd,

"And put into the Gripe's egg."

And leave him clos'd in balneo ;

E

Lute him well;

And bring me the complexion of glass B.

Face. I will, sir.

[Exit Face.

Sur. What a brave language here is! next to canting!

Sub. I have another work, you never saw, son,

220

That three days since pass'd the philosopher's wheel,

In the lent heat of Athanor; and is become

Sulphur of Nature.

Mam. But 'tis for me?

Sub. What need you?

You have enough, in that is perfect.

Mam. Oh, but

Sub. Why, this is covetous !

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?

Enter FACE.

"Face. Sir, please you,

"Shall I not change the feltre?

Sub. Marry, yes,

"And bring me the complexion of glass B. [Exit Face.

"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 tinet C in sand-heat to-morrow,
"And give him imbition.

240

"Mam. Of white oil?

"Sub. No, sir, of red. Fis come over the helm too, "In St. Mary's Bath, and shews lac virginis.

"I sent you of his faces there calcin'd.

"Out of that calx, I have won the salt of mercury. "Mam. By pouring on your rectified water?” Sub. "Yes, and reverberating in Athanor." How now? What colour says it?

Enter FACE.

Face. 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. Oh, I look'd for this.

The hay's a pitching.

Sub. Are you sure you loosed them

In their own menstrue?

Face. Yes, sir, and then married them,

260

And put them 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.

Face. Yes, by the token, sir, the retort brake, And what was sav'd was put into the pellicane, And signed with Hermes' seal.

Sub. I think 'twas so.

We should have a new amalgama.