A certain Star i' the Forehead, which you fee not.
Your Chestnut, or your Olive-colour'd Face

:

Do's 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.

Fac. Which Finger's that? Sub. His little Finger. Look.

Yo' were born upon a Wednesday?

Dru. Yes indeed, Sir.

Sub. The Thumb, in Chiromanty, we give Venus ; The Fore-finger, to Jove; the midft, to Saturn; The Ring, to Sol; the leaft, to Mercury:

Who was the Lord, Sir, of his Horoscope,

His Houfe of Life being Libra; which fore-fhew'd He fhould be a Merchant, and fhould Trade with Ballance.

Fac. Why, this is ftrange? I'ft not, honeft Nab? Sub. There is a Ship now, coming from Ormus, "That fhall yield him fuch a Commodity

Of Drugs-This is the Weft, and this the South?

Dru. Yes, Sir. Sub. And thofe are your two fides ? Dru. I, Sir,

Sub. Make me your Door, then, South; your Broadfide, Weft:

And, on the Eaft fide of your Shop, aloft,

Write Mathlai, Termiel, and Baraborat ;
Upon the North-part, Rael, Velel, Thiel.
They are the Names of thofe Mercurial Spirits,
That do fright Flies from Boxes.

Sub. And

Dru. Yes, Sir,

Beneath your Threshold, bury me a Load-ftone
To draw in Gallants, that wear Spurs : The reft,
They'll feem to follow. Fac. That's a Secret, Nab!
Sub. And, on your Stall, a Puppet, with a Vice,
And a Court-fucus to call City-dames.

You fhall deal much with Minerals. Dru. Sir, I have
At home, already Sub. I, I know, you have

Arfnike,

Vitriol,

Vitriol, Sal-tartre, Argale, Alkaly,

Cinoper: I know all. This Fellow, Captain,
Will come, in time, to be a great Distiller,
And give a Say (I will not fay directly,
But very fair) at the Philofopher's Stone.

Fac. Why, how now, Abel! is this true? Dru.
Good Captain,

What must I give? Fac. Nay, I'll not counfel thee. Thou hear'ft what Wealth (he fays, fpend what thou canft)

Th'art like to come too. Dru. I would gi' him a Crown.

Fac. A Crown! and toward fuch a Fortune? Heart, Thou fhalt rather gi' him thy Shop. No Gold about thee?

Dru. Yes, I have a Portague, I ha' kept this half Year.

Fac. Out on thee, Nab. 'Slight, there was not such an Offer;

'Shalt keep't no longer, I'll gi' it him for thee?

Doctor, Nab prays your Worship to drink this, and

Swears

He will appear more grateful, as your Skill

Do's raife him in the World.

Dru. I would intreat

Another Favour of his Worship. Fac. What is't,

Nab?

Dru. But, to look over, Sir, my Almanack, And crofs out my ill-days, that I may neither Bargain, nor trust upon them. Fac. That he fhall,

Nab.

Leave it, it fhall be done, gainst Afternoon.

Sub. And a direction for his Shelves.

Nab?

Fac. Now,

Art thou well pleas'd, Nab? Dru. 'Thank, Sir, both

your Worships.

Fac. Away.

Why, now you fmoky perfecuter of Nature!
Now do you fee, that fomething's to be done,
Befide your Beech-coal,and your cor'five Waters,

Your

Your Crofslets, Crucibles, and Cucurbites ?

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

And, yet, you think, I am at no expence,
In fearching out these Veins, then following 'em,
Then trying 'em out.

'Fore God, my Intelligence, Coft me more Money, than my fhare oft comes too, In these rare Works. Sub. You'are pleasant, Sir.

How now ?

SCENE IV.

Face, Dol, Subtle.

Fac. What fays my dainty Dolkin? Dol. Yonder Fish-wife

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, Thorough the Trunk, like one of your Familiars. But I have fpied 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

fhift.

Dol. You must presently make ready, too

Dol. Why, what's the matter? Sub. O, I did look for him

With the Suns rifing: 'Marvel, he could fleep!.
This is the Day I am to perfect for him

The Magifterium, our great Work, the Stone:
And yield it, made into his Hands: of which,
He has, this Month, talk'd, as he were poffefs'd.
And now he's dealing pieces on't away,
Me-thinks I fee him entring Ordinaries,
Difpenfing for the Pox, and Plaguy Houfes,.
Reaching his Dofe, walking Moore-fields for Lepers,
And offering Citizens-wives Pomander-bracelets,

As

As his Prefervative, made of the Elixir ;
Searching the Spittle, to make old Bawds young?
And the High-ways, for Beggars, to make rich:
I fee no end of his Labours. He will make
Nature afham'd, of her long fleep: when Art,
Who's but a Step-dame, fhall do more than fhe,
In her beft love to Mankind, ever could?
If his Dream laft, he'll turn the Age to Gold.

C

ACT II. SCENE I.

Mammon, Surly.

NOME on, Sir. Now, you fet 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 Monthis.
This is the Day, wherein, to all my Friends,

I will pronounce the happy Word, Be Rich.
This Day you shall be spectatiffimi.

You shall no more deal with the hollow Dye,

Or the frail Card. No more be at Charge of keeping
The Livery-punk, for the young Heir, that muft
Seal, at all Hours, in his Shirt. No more,
If he deny, ha' him beaten to't, as he is
That brings him the Commodity. No more
Shall thirft of Sattin, or the Covetous hunger
Of Velvet Entrails, for a rude-fpun Cloke,
To be difplaid at Madam Augufta's, make
The Sons of Sword, and Hazzard fall before
The Golden Calf, and on their Knees, whole Nights,
Commit. Idolatry with Wine, and Trumpets:

Or

Or go a feafting, after Drum and Enfign.

No more of this. You fhall ftart up young Vierois, And have your Punques, and Punquetees, my Surly. And unto thee, I speak it first, Be

Rich,

Where is my Subtle, there? Within

hough!

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 Center.
You are not faithful, Sir. This Night, I'll change
All, that is Metal, in thy Houfe, to Gold.
And, early in the Morning, will I fend

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 Corn-
wall,

And make them perfect Indies! You admire now?
Sur. No faith. Mam. But when you see the effects
of the great Medicine !

Of which one part projected on a hundred
Of Mercury, or Venus, or the Moon,
Shall turn it to as many of the Sun;

Nay, to a thousand, so ad infinitum :

You will believe me. Sur. Yes, when I fee't, I will, But, if my Eyes do cozen me fo (and I

Giving 'em no occafion) fure I'll have

A Whore, fhall pifs 'em out, next Day. Mam. Ha!
Why?

Do you think, I Fable with you? I affure you,
He that has once the Flower of the Sun,
The perfect Ruby, which we call Elixir,
Not only can do that, but by it's Vertue,
Can confer Honour, Love, Refpect, long Life,
Give Safety, Valour, yea, and Victory,
To whom he will. In eight and twenty Days,