Give lords th' affront. Is it, my Zephyrus, 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, Puff,
Lost in the embers; and repair this brain,
Hurt with the fume o' the metals.

Face. I have blown, sir,

Hard for your worship; thrown by many a coal, When 'twas not beech; weigh'd those I put in, just,

To keep your heat still even; these bleared eyes

Have waked 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 descried the flower, the sanguis agni?
Face. Yes, sir.

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 labours; thou shalt be the master

Of my seraglio.

Face. Good, 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, tough as Hercules.

Thou art sure thou saw'st it blood?

Face. Both blood and spirit, sir.

Mam. I will have all my beds blown up, not stuft:

Down is too hard and then, mine oval room
Fill'd with such pictures as Tiberius took
From Elephantis, and dull Aretine
But coldly imitated. Then, my glasses
Cut in more subtle angles, to disperse
And multiply the figures, as I walk
Naked between my succubæ. My mists
I'll have of perfume, vapoured 'bout the room,
To lose ourselves in; and my baths, like pits
To fall into; from whence we will come forth,
And roll us dry in gossamer and roses.
Is it arrived at ruby? - Where I spy

A wealthy citizen, or rich lawyer,

Have a sublimed pure wife, unto that fellow
I'll send a thousand pounds to make her mine.
Face. And I shall carry it?

Mam. No. I'll have no aids,

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 mere fools,
Eloquent burgesses; and then my poets,
The same that writ so subtly of foul wind,
Whom I will entertain still for that subject.
The few that would give out themselves to be
Court and town rakes, and everywhere belie
Ladies who are known most innocent for them,
Those will I beg to make me eunuchs of;
And they shall fan me with ten ostrich tails
Apiece, made in a plume to gather wind.

We will be brave, Puff, 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, sapphires, hyacinths and rubies.
The tongues of carps, dormice, and camels' heels,
Boiled in the spirit of Sol and dissolv'd pearl,
Apicius' diet, 'gainst the epilepsy:

And I will eat these broths with spoons of amber,
Headed with diamond and carbuncle.

My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, calvered salmons,
Knots, godwits, lampreys: I myself will have
The beards of barbels served instead of salads;
Oiled mushrooms, and the swelling unctuous paps
Of a fat pregnant sow, newly cut off,
Drest 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 taffeta-sarsnet, soft and light
As cobwebs; 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, perfumed
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 profane word afore him: 'tis poison.—

Good-morrow, father.

Enter SUBTLE.

Sub. Gentle son, good-morrow.

And to your friend there. What is he, is with you?
Mam. An heretic, that I did bring along,

I hope, sir, to convert him.

Sub. Son, I doubt

You are covetous, that thus you meet your time

In 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 ungovern'd haste. I should be sorry

To see my labours, not even at perfection,

Got by long watching and large patience,

Not prosper where my love and zeal hath placed them.
Which (heaven I call to witness, with yourself,

To whom I have poured my thoughts) 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,

[Exit.

And to your own particular lusts employ
So great and catholic a bliss, be sure

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 confute this gentleman.

Sur. Who is,

Indeed, sir, somewhat costive of belief
Toward your stone; would not be gulled.
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,
The glorified spirit. Thanks be to heaven,
And make us worthy of it! Ulen Spiegel!

Face. [Within.] Anon, sir.

Sub. Look well to the register.

And let your heat still lessen by degrees,
To the aludels.

Face. [Within.] Yes, sir.

Sub. Did you look

O' the bolt's head yet?

Face. [Within] Which? On D, sir?

Sub. Ay;

What's the complexion?

Face. [Within] Whitish.

Sub. Infuse vinegar,

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. Lute him well,

And leave him closed in balneo.

Face. [Within.] I will, sir.

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

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

That three days since passed the philosopher's wheel
In the lent heat of Athanor and 's 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 covetise!

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 !

Re-enter FACE.

Face. Sir, please you,

Shall I not change the filter?

Sub. Marry, yes;

And bring me the complexion of glass B.
Mam. Have you another?

Sub. Yes, son; were I assured

Your piety were firm, we would not want

The means to glorify it; but I hope the best.

I mean to tinct C in sand-heat to-morrow,

And give him imbibition.

Mam. Of white oil?

[Exit FACE

Sub. No, sir, of red. F is come over the helm too,

I thank my maker, in St. Mary's bath,

And shows lac virginis. Blessed be heaven!

I sent you of his fæces there calcined:

Out of that calx I have won the salt of mercury.
Mam. By pouring on your rectified water?
Sub. Yes, and reveberating in Athanor.

Re-enter FACE.

How now! what colour says it?

Face. 'Tis ground black, sir.

Mam. That's your crow's head?

Sur. Your cock's comb's, is it not?

Sub. No, 'tis not perfect. Would it were the crow! That work wants something.

Sur. Oh, I looked 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,

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 saved was put into the pelican, And signed with Hermes' seal.