MAMMON

That's his Firedrake, His Lungs, his Zephyrus, he that puffs his coals, Till he firk Nature, up, in her own centre. You are not faithful, Sir. This night, I'll change All, that is mettle, in my house, to gold. And, early in the morning, will I send To all the Plumbers, and the Peuterers, And buy their Tin, and Led up: and to Lothbury. For all the copper. Yes, and I'll purchase Devonshire, and Cornwaile, And make them perfect Indies. You admire now? But when you see effects of the great medicine! Of which one partly 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 and infinitum: You will believe me. Would! Why? Do you think, I fable with you? I assure 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 virtue, Can confer honour, love, respect, long life, Give safety, valour: yea, and victory, To whom he will. In eight, and twenty days, I'll make and Old man, of fourscore, a Child. Nay, I mean, Restore his years, renew him, Like and Eagle, To the fifth age; make him get Sons, and Daughters, Young Giants; as our Philosophers have done (The ancient Patriarchs afore the flood) But taking, once a week, on a knives point, The quantity of a grain of Mustard, of it: Become stout Marsses, and beget young Cupid's. It's the secret Of Nature, naturized against all infections, Cures all diseases, coming of all causes, A month's grief, in a day; a years, in twelve: And, of what age so ever, in a month. Passed all the doses, of your drugging Doctors. I'll undertake, withal, to fright the Plague Out o'the kingdom, in three months. Sir, I'll doo't. Mean time, I'll give away so much, unto my man, Shall serve whole City, with preservative, Weekly, each house his dose, and at the rate— You are incredulous. Pertinax, Surly, Will you believe Antiquity? Records? I'll show you a Book, where Moses, and his Sister, And Salomon have written, of the Art; I, and a Treatise penned by Adam. O'the Philosophers stone, and in high Dutch. He did: Which proves it was the Primitive tongue. On Cedar board. It's Like your Irish wood against Cobwebs. I have a piece of Jasons fleece, too, Which was no other, then a Book of Alchemy, Writ in large sheepskin, a good fat Ram-Vellam. Such was Pythagora's thigh, Pandora's tub; And, all that fable of Medea's charms, The manner of our work: The Bulls, our Furnace, Still breathing fire; our Argent-vive, the Dragon: The Dragons teeth, Mercury sublimate, That keeps the whiteness, hardness and the biting; And they are gathered, into Jason's helm, (the Alembeke ) and then sowed in Mars his field, And, thence, sublimed so often, till they are fixed. Both this, the Hesperian Garden, Cadmus story, Jove's shower, the boon of Midas, Argus eyes, Boccace his Demogorgon, thousands more, All abstract Riddles of our Stone. How now? Pertinax, my Surly, Again, I say to thee, aloud: Be rich. This day, thou shalt have Ingots: and, tomorrow, Give Lords th'affront. Is it, my Zephyrus, right? Blushes the Bolthead? Excellent witty Lungs. My only care is, Where to get stuff, enough now, to project on This town will not half serve me. That's true No, good Thatch. Thatch will lie light, vpo'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. And, lastly, Thou hast descried the Flower, the Sanguis Agni? Where's Master? Lungs, I will set a perjod, To all thy labours: Thou shalt be, the Master Of my Seraglia. But do you hear? I'll geld you' Lungs. For I do mean To have a list of Wives, and Concubines, Aequal with Salomon; 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 sawest it blood? I will have all my beds, blown up; not stuffed: Down is too hard. And then, mine Oval Room, Filled 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 Succubae. My mists I'll have of perfume, vapor'd'bout the room, To lose our selves in; and my baths, Like pits To fallen into: from whence, we will come forth, And roll us dry in Gossamour, 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 pound, to be my Cuckold. No, I'll ha'no bawds, But Father's, and Mother's. And my flatterers, Shall be the best, 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 the Fart, Whom I will entertain, still, for that Subject. The few, that would give out themselves, to be Court, and Town-stallions, and, each where, belie Ladies, who'are known most innocent, for them; Those will I beg, to ma e me Eunuchs of And they shall fan me, with ten Ostrich Tails A piece, made in a plume, to gather wind. We will be brave, Puff, now we ha'the Medicine. My Meat, shall all come in, in Indian shells, Dishes of Agat, set in Gold, and studded With Emeralds, Saphires, Hjacinths, and Rubies. The tongues of Carps, Dormise, and Camels heals, Boiled i'the spirit of Solemnizing, and dissolved Pearl, ( Apicius diet, against the Epilepsy ) And I will eat these broths, with spoons of Amber, Headed with Diamant, and Carbuncle. My footboy shall eat Pheasants, caluerd Salmons, Knots, Godwits, Lamprey's: I my self will have The beards of Barbels, served, in stead of salads; Oiled Mushrooms; and the swelling unctuous paps Of a fat pregnant Sow, newly cut off, Dressed with and exquisite, and poignant sauce; For which, I'll say unto my Cook, There's gold, Go forth, and be a Knight. Do. My Shirts I'll have of Taffata-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, a new. My Gloves of Fish, and Birds-skins, perfumed With Gums of Paradise, and Eastern air— No, I do think, to-have all this, with the Stone. 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 bore, 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: It's poison. And Heretic, that I did bring along, In hope, Sir, to convert him. I know, Sir, You shall not needs to fear me. I but come, To ha'you confute this Gentleman. But it's for me? Oh, but— 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. Ha'you another? Of white oil? By pouring on your rectefied water? That's your Crows head. He says right. Is't no more? Away, here's Money. What will serve. How much? There it's. When do you make projection? Not those of iron? Then I may send my Spits? This Gent'man, you must bear withal. I told you, he had no faith. And that Our Art does further. I, now it heats, stand Father. Pound him to Dust. Well said, Father! Nay, if he take you in hand, Sir, with and argument, Hee'll bray you in a Mortar. Sir, so I told him. Because the simple I diot should not learn it, And make it vulgar. I urged that. And cleared to him, that Sisyphus was damned To roll the ceaseless stone, only, because He would have made ours common. Who is this? who is it, Sir? What is the matter? Good Sir! I have not seen you thus distempered. Who is't? stay Lungs. How! Pray thee stay? I warrant thee.) Why sent hither? Fore-God, a Bram ante, a brave piece! Oh, by this light, no. Do not wrong him. H'is Too scrupulous, that way: It is his vice. No, h'is a rare Physician, do him right. And excellent Paracelsian! and has done Strange cures with mineral physic. He deals all With spirits, he, He will not hear a Word Of Galen, or his tedious Recipee's. How now, Lungs! No, he will not be gulled; let him alone. How might one do to-have conference with her, Lungs? Wherein? pray you, be patient You are too foul, believe it. Come here, Zephyrus. One word. Stay, Knave. Drink that. What is she, when she's out of her fit? Is she no way accessible? no means, No trick, to give a man a taste of her— W to? or so? S rly, I did not think, one o'your breeding Would traduce personages of worth. 'Hart you abuse your self. I know the Lady, and her friends, and means, The original of this disaster. Her Brother Has told me all. Oh yes, but I forgotten. I have (believe it) One o'the treacherou'st memories, I do think, Of all mankind. My Lord— He wi'not have his name known, now I think on't. O'my faith— Nay, by this hand, it's true. He's one I honour, and my noble friend, And I respect his House. I follow you, straight. But wilt thou Be constant to thy promise? Wilt thou do this? Lungs, my Lungs, I love thee. Th'hast witched me, Rogue: Take, Go. Thou art a Villain—I will send my Jack; And the weights too. Slave, I could bite thine are. Away, thou dost not care for me. Come, I was born to make thee, my good Weasel; Set thee on a bench: and, ha'thee twirl a Chain With the best Lords Vermin, of them all. A Count, nay a Count-Palatine— Shall not advance thee, better; no, nor faster. Where's Master? Into Gold? Silver I care not for. Where's the Lady? Hast thou? I warrant thee. Fear not. I am schooled, good Lungs. Let me, aloue: No He ld, no nor A tiquarie, Lu gs, Shall do it better. Go Now, Epicure, Heighten thy self, talk to her, all in Gold; Rain her as many showers as Jove did drops Unto his ,: Show the God a Miss r, Compaerd with Mammon, What? the Stone will do't. She shall feel Gold, taste Gold, hear Gold, sleep Gold: Nay, we will concumbere Gold. I will be puissant, And mighty in my talk to her. Here she comes. Madame, with your pardon, I kiss your vesture. I hope, my Lord your Brother be in health, Lady? Right noble Madam— It's your Pr rogative. Were there nought else enlarge your virtues, to me, These answers speak your breeding, and your blood. Poor, and got you? Profane not, had your Father Slept all the happy remnant of his life After that act, but there still, and panted, H'had done enough to make himself, his issue, And his posterity noble I do see The old , Virtue, was not lost, Nor the Drug, Money, used to make your compound. There is a strange Nobility, i'your eye; This lip, that chin. Me thinks you do resemble One o'the Austr ack Princes. The house of Valois, joust, had such a Nose; And such a Forehead, yet, the Medic Of Floren boast. I know not, how; It is not any one, Butee'n the very choice of all their features. To burn i'this sweet flame: The Phoe x never knew a nobler death. By my soul.— Nature Never bestowed upon mortality, A more unblamed, a more harmonious feature: She played the Stepdame in all faces, else. Sweet Madame, let me be particular. In no ill sense, sweet Lady, but to ask How your fair Graces pass the hours? I see You are lodged, here, i'the house of a rare man, And excellent Artist; But, what's that to you? Oh, I cry your pardon. H'is a Divine Instructer, can extract The souls of all things, by his art, call all The virtues, and the miracles of the Sun, Into a temperate furnace: teach dull Nature What her own forces are. A man, the Emperor Has courted, above Kelley: sent his medals, And chains, t'invite him. Above the art of Aesculapius, That drew the envy of the Thunderer. I know all this, and more. It is a noble Humour. But, this form Was not intended to so dark a use. Had you been crooked, foul, of some course mould, A Cloister, had done well: but, such a feature That might stand up the Glory of a Kingdom To live recluse? is a mere solecism, Though in a Nunnery. It must not be. I muse, my Lord your Brother will permit it: You should spend half my Land first, were I he. Dos not this Diamant better, on my finger, Then i'the quarry? Why you are Like it. You were created, Lady, for light. Hear, You shall wear it; take it, the first pledge Of what I speak: to bind you, to believe me. Yes, the strongest bans: And take a secret, too. Here, by your side, Does stand, this hour, the happiest man, of Europe. Nay, in true being: The envy of Princes, and the fear of States. Yes, and thou shalt prove it, Daughter of Honour. I have cast mine eye Upon thy form, and I will rear this beauty. Above all Stile. No, I will take away that jealousy. I am the Lord, of the Philosophers Stone, And thou the Lady. I am the Master of the Mastery. This day, the good Old wretch, here, o'the house Has made it for us. Now, he's at projection. Think therefore, thy first wish, now; Let me hear it: And it shall rain into thy lap, no shower, But floods of Gold, whole cataracts, a deluge, To get a Nation on thee. I'am pleased, the Glory of her sex should know, This nook, here, of the Friars, is no climate For her, to live obscurely in, to learn Physic and Surgery, for the Constables wife Of some odd Hundred in Essex; but come forth, And taste the air of Palaces, eat, drink The toils of Empricks, and their boasted practice: Tincture of Pearl, and Coral, Gold, and Amber; Be seen at Feasts, and Triumphs; have it asked, What Miracle she is? set all the Eyes Of Court a fire, Like a burning Glass, And work them into cinders; when the jewels Of twenty States adorn thee; and the light Strikes out the Stars; that, when thy name is mentioned, Queens may look pale: and, we, but showing our love, Nero's Poppaea may be lost in story. Thus will we have it. If he knew it. To thee, my Life. It's no idle fear. Wee'll therefore go with all, my Girl, and live In a free State, where we will eat our Mullets, Soused in high-country Wines, sup Pheasants eggs, And have our Cockles, boiled in Silver shells, Our Shrimps to swim again as when they lived, In a rare butter, made of Dolphins milk, Whose cream do's look Like Opalls: And, with these Delicate meats, set our selves high for pleasure; And take us down again; and then renew Our youth, and strength, with drinking the Elixir: And so enjoy a perpetuity Of life, and lust. And thou shalt have thy Wardrobe, Richer then Nature's, still, to change thy self, And vary oftener, for thy pride, then she: Or Act, her wise, and almost-aequal servant. Excellent, Lungs. There's for thee. We think not on them. Good Lady— Madame. Lady— Sweet Madame. What shall I do? Dear Lady. Oh, Sh'is in her fit. Sweet honourable Lady. Alas Of a fifth Monarchy I would erect, Which the Philosophers stone ( y chance) And Falls on the other four straight. Where shall I hide me? Nay good, deer Father, There was no'vnchast purpose. That was my Error. Why, have you so? Nay good Sir blame not him. Believe me, 'twas against his Will, or Knowledge. I saw her by chance. By my hope, it's true Sir. Why Sir? Why, if it do, What remedy? but think it not, good Father: Our purposes were honest. Would, Lungs? Alas! Is all lost, Lungs? Will nothing be preserved, Of all our cost? Oh my voluptuous mind! I am justly punished. Cast from all my Hope's— By mine own base affections. Good Father, It was my sin. Forgive it. I'll go. Yes. I'll do't. Do. Is no Projection left? Will nought be saved, that's good for medicine, thinkest though ? Nay good Surly — Play not the Tyrant— Let me but breath. What! They ha'shut their doors, Me thinks. Rogues, Cozeners, Impostors, Bawds. To enter if we can. Are you, Sir, the Owner? And are those Knaves, within, your Cheaters? Subtle, & his Lungs. Open your Door, Cheaters, Bawds, Conjurers. Where is this Colliar? These day-Owl S. Madame Suppository. The Chemical Cousoner. Madame Rabbi. Are they gone? The whole Nest are fled! A kind of Choughs, Or thievish Daws, Sir, that have picked my purse Of Eightscore, and ten Pounds, within these five weeks, Beside my first Materials; and my Goods, That lie i'the Cellar: which I am glad, they have left, I may have home yet. I. Not mine own stuff? I'll rather loose'hem. No. I cannot tell. It may be they should. What then? Not I, the Common wealth has. I will go mount a Turnip-cart, and preach The end o'the world within these two months. Surly, What! in a Dream? A certain touch, or air, That a dium city, beyond And earthly beauty. Good Lady gi'me leave. Is't I, and then, We shall ha'your doors open.