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In searching out these veins, then following them,
Dol. Yonder fish-wife
Sub. Heart, I cannot speak with them.
Dol. Not afore night, I have told them, in a voice, Through the trunk, like one of your familiars. But I have spied sir Epicure Mammon.
Dol. Coming along, at far end of the lane,
Sub. Face, go you, and shift.
Dol. Why, what's the matter?
Sub. Oh, 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, 640 Hé has, this month, talk'd, as he were possessid,
And now he's dealing pieces on't away. “ Methinks I see him entering ordinaries,
“ Dispensing for the pox, and plaguy houses, “ Reaching his dose, walking Moorfields for lepers, “ Searching the spittal, to make old bawds young; “ And the highways, for beggars to make rich : “ I see no end of my labours. He will make ". Nature asham'd of her long sleep; when art, “ Who's but a step dame, shall do more than she,” He's, in belief of chymistry, so bold, If his dream last, he'll turn the age to gold. Exeunt.
ACT II. SCENE 1.
MAMMON and SURLY.
Mammon. 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 reached 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, And have your punques, and punquetees, my Surly, And unto thee, I speak it first, Be rich.-Face, Where is my Subtle, there?Within, ho!
Face. [Within.] Sir, he'll come to you, by and by.
Mam. That's his fire-drake.
Till he firk Nature up in her own centre.
Sur. What, and turn that too?
Sur. No faith.
medicine, You will believe me.
Sur. Yes, when I see't, I will.
Sur. No doubt, he's that already.
Mam. Nay, I mean, Restore his years, renew him, like an eagle, 40 To the fifth age ; make him get sons and daughters, Become stout Marses, and beget young Cupids.
Sur. The decay'd vestals of Drury-Lane would
That keep the fire alive there.
Mam. 'Tis the secret
Sur. Faith I have a humour,
you believe antiquity? Records? I'll shew you a book, where Moses, and his sister, And Solomon, have written of the art; Ay, and a treatise penn'd by Adam. Sur. How!
60 Mam. O the Philosopher's Stone, and in High
Mam. He did. Which proves it was the primitive tongue? How now?
Face. The evening will set red upon you, sir :
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
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
80 The covering off o'churches.
Mam. That's true.
Mam. No, good thatch:
Face. I have blown, sir,
Mam. And lastly,
Face. Yes, sir,