Sur. Be not gull'd, Sir Mammon.

Mam. Wherein? Pray ye, be patient.

Sur. Yes, as you are,

And trust confederate knaves and sharks and bawds.
Mam. You are too foul, believe it. - Come here, Ulen,

One word.

Face. I dare not, in good faith.

Mam. Stay, knave.

Face. He is extreme angry that you saw her, sir.

[Going.

Mam. Drink that [Gives him money]. What is she when

she's out of her fit?

Face. Oh, the most affablest creature, sir! So merry!

So pleasant! She'll mount you up like quicksilver

Over the helm, and circulate like oil,

A very vegetal; discourse of state,

Of mathematics, frolic, anything

Mam. Is she no way accessible? no means,

No trick to give a man a taste of her wit
Or so?

Sub. [Within] Ulen!

Face. I'll come to you again, sir,

Mam. Surly, I did not think one of your breeding

Would traduce personages of worth.

Sur. Sir Epicure,

Your friend to use; yet still loth to be gulled:

I do not like your philosophical bawds.

Their stone is lechery enough to pay for

Without this bait.

Mam. 'Heart, you abuse yourself.

I know the lady, and her friends, and means,
The original of this disaster.

Has told me all.

Her brother

Sur. And yet you never saw her

Till now!

Mam. Oh yes, but I forgot. I have, believe it, One of the treacherousest memories, I do think, Of all mankind.

Sur. What call you her brother?

Mam. My Lord

He will not have his name known, now I think on it.

Sur. A very treacherous memory!

Mam. On my faith

Sur. Tut, if you have it not about you, pass it

Till we meet next.

Mam. Nay, by this hand, 'tis true,

[Exit.

He's one I honour, and my noble friend;
And I respect his house.

Sur. 'Heart! can it be

That a grave sir, a rich, that has no need,
A wise sir, too, at other times, should thus,

With his own oaths and arguments, make hard means
To gull himself? An this be your elixir,
Your lapis mineralis and your lunary,

Give me your honest trick yet at primero,
Or gleek and take your lutum sapientis,

Your menstruum simplex! I'll have gold before you,
And with less danger of the quicksilver

Or the hot sulphur.

Re-enter FACE.

Face. Here's one from Captain Face, sir [to SURLY] Desires you to meet him in the Temple Church, Some half-hour hence, and upon earnest business. Sir-[whispers MAMMON]-if you please to quit us now, and

come

Again within two hours, you shall have
My master busy examining o' the works;
And I will steal you in unto the party,
That you may see her converse.
You'll meet the captain's worship?

Sur. Sir, I will.

Sir, shall I say

But, by attorney and to a second purpose,
Now, I am sure I understand this house;

I'll swear it, were the marshal here to thank me:

The naming this commander doth confirm it.

Don Face! why he's the most authentic dealer

In these commodities, the superintendent

To all the quainter traffickers in town!

He is the visitor, and does appoint

Who visits whom, and at what hour; what price;

[Walks aside.

Which gown, and in what smock; what fall; what tire.
Him will I prove, by a third person, to find

The subtleties of this dark labyrinth :

Which if I do discover, dear Sir Mammon,

You'll give your poor friend leave, though no philosopher,

To laugh for you that are, 'tis thought, shall weep.

Face. Sir, he does pray you'll not forget.

Sur. I will not, sir.

Sir Epicure, I shall leave you.

[Exit.

Mam. I follow you straight.

Face. But do so, good sir, to avoid suspicion.

This gentleman has a parlous head.

Mam. But wilt thou, Ulen,

Be constant to thy promise?

Face. As my life, sir.

Mam. And wilt thou insinuate what I am, and praise me,

And say

I am a noble fellow?

Face. Oh, what else, sir?

And that you'll make her royal with the stone,

An empress and yourself, King of Bantam.

Mam. Wilt thou do this?

Face. Will I, sir!

Mam. Lungs, my Lungs!

I love thee.

Face. Send your stuff, sir, that my master May busy himself about projection.

Mam. Thou hast witch'd me, rogue: take, go.

Face. Your jack, and all, sir.

[Gives him money.

Mam. Thou art a villain—I will send my jack, And the weights too. Slave, I could bite thine ear. Away, thou dost not care for me.

Face. Not I, sir!

Mam. Come, I was born to make thee, my good weasel, Set thee on a bench, and have thee twirl a chain

With the best lord's vermin of 'em all.

Face. Away, sir.

Mam. A count, nay, a count palatine

Face. Good, sir, go.

Mam. Shall not advance thee better: no, nor faster. [Exit.

Re-enter SUBTLE and DOL.

Sub. Has he bit? has he bit?

Face. And swallowed too, my Subtle.

I have given him line, and now he plays, i' faith.
Sub. And shall we twitch him?

Face. Thorough both the gills.

For here is a rare bait, with which a man

No sooner's taken, but he straight runs mad.

Sub. Dol, my Lord What's'hums sister, you must now

Bear yourself statelich.

Dol. Oh, let me alone.

I'll not forget my race, I warrant you.

I'll keep my distance, laugh and talk aloud;

Have all the tricks of a proud scurvy lady,
And be as rude as her woman.

Face. Well said, sanguine!

Sub. But will he send his andirons ?

Face. His jack too,

And 's iron shoeing-horn; I have spoke to him. Well,
I must not lose my wary gamester yonder.

Sub. Oh, Monsieur Caution, that will not be gulled.
Face. Ay,

If I can strike a fine hook into him, now !

The Temple Church, there I have cast mine angle.

Well, pray for me. I'll about it.

Sub. What, more gudgeons !

[Knocking without.

Dol, scout, scout! [DOL goes to the window.] Stay, Face, you

must go to the door.

Pray God it be my anabaptist.

- Who is 't, Dol?

Dol. I know him not: he looks like a gold-endman.

Sub. Ods so! 'tis he, he said he would send — what call you him?

The sanctified elder, that should deal

For Mammon's jack and andirons. Let him in.

Stay, help me off, first, with my gown. [Exit FACE with the gown.] Away,

Madam, to your withdrawing chamber. [Exit DoL.] Now,
In a new tune, new gesture, but old language.-
This fellow is sent from one negotiates with me
About the stone too; for the holy brethren
Of Amsterdam, the exiled saints; that hope
To raise their discipline by it. I must use him

In some strange fashion, now, to make him admire me.—

Sub. Take away the recipient,

And rectify your menstrue from the phlegma.
Then pour it on the Sol, in the cucurbite,

And let them macerate together.

Face. Yes, sir.

And save the ground?

Sub. No: terra damnata

Must not have entrance in the work. Who are you?

Ana. A faithful brother, if it please you.

[Aloud.

Sub. What's that?

A Lullianist? a Ripley? Filius artis?
Can you sublime and dulcify? calcine?
Know you the sapor pontic? sapor stiptic?

Or what is homogene, or heterogene?

Ana. I understand no heathen language truly. Sub. Heathen? you Knipper-doling! is Ars sacra Or chrysopoeia, or spagyrica,

Or the pamphysic, or panarchic knowledge,

A heathen language?

Ana. Heathen Greek, I take it.

Sub. How heathen Greek?

Ana. All's heathen but the Hebrew.

Sub. Sirrah, my varlet, stand you forth and speak to him Like a philosopher: answer in the language,

Name the vexations, and the martyrizations

Of metals in the work.

Face. Sir, putrefaction,

Solution, ablution, sublimation,

Cohobation, calcination, ceration, and
Fixation.

Sub. This is heathen Greek to you, now!-
And when comes vivification?

Face. After mortification.
Sub. What's cohobation?
Face. 'Tis the pouring on

Your aqua regis, and then drawing him off,
To the trine circle of the seven spheres.

Sub. What's the proper passion of metals?
Face. Malleation.

Sub. What's your ultimum supplicium auri?
Face. Antimonium.

Sub. This is heathen Greek to you? And what's your

mercury?

Face. A very fugitive, he will be gone, sir.

Sub. How know you him?

Face. By his viscosity,

His oleosity, and his suscitability.

Sub. How do you sublime him?
Face. With the calce of egg-shells,

White marble, talc.

Sub. Your magisterium, now, What's that?

Face. Shifting, sir, your elements,

Dry into cold, cold into moist, moist into hot,
Hot into dry.