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Mam. 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 Zephirus, 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 wi' the fume o' the metals.

Face. I have blown, sir,
Hard for your worship; 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.

Face. Yes, sir,

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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 labouřs : 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,
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."
Th’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.

i go (Is it arriv'd at ruby?) Where I spy A wealthy citizen, or a rich lawyer, Have a sublim'd pure wife, unto that fellow I'll send a thousand pounds, to be my cuckold.

Face. And shall I 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 meet fools,
Eloquent burgesses.
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, 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.

[Exit. 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

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. 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 haste. 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 So great and catholic a bliss, be sure,

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I but come,


A curse will follow, yea, and overtake
Your subtle, and most secret ways.

Mam. I know, sir.
You shall not need to fear me.
To have you to confute this gentleman.

Sur. Who is,
Indeed, sir, somewhat costive of belief
Toward your Stone; would not be gulld.

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,
To the Aludels.

Face. Yes, sir.

Sub. Did you look “ O'the Bolt's head yet?

Face. Which, on D, sir ?

" Sub. Ay. “ What's the complexion ?

" Face. Whitish.

Sub. Infuse vinegar “ To draw his volatile substance, and his tinćture; “ And let the water in glass E. be filter’d, “ And put into the Gripe's egg.'

Lute him well; And leave him clos'd in balneo ;


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