Mos. Puh! nor your diamond. What a needless care Is this afflicts you? Is not all here yours?

Am not I here, whom you have made your creature? That owe my being to you?

Corv. Grateful Mosca !

Thou art my friend, my fellow, my companion, My partner, and shall share in all my fortunes. [Exit. Volp. My divine Mosca !

Thou hast to-day outgone thyself.

THE ALCHEMIST, A COMEDY:
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

EPICURE MAMMON, a Knight, deceived by the pretensions of SUBTLE (the Alchemist), glories in the prospect of obtaining the philosopher's stone; and promises what rare things he will do with it.

MAMMON. SURLY, his Friend.

House.

The Scene, SUBTle's

Mam. 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 reach'd 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.

You shall no more deal with the hollow die,

Or the frail card. No more be at charge of keeping
The livery-punk for the young heir, that must
Seal, at all hours, in his shirt: no more,
If he deny, have him beaten to 't, as he is
That brings him the commodity. No more
Shall thirst of satin, or the covetous hunger

Of velvet entrails for a rude-spun cloke,
To be display'd at madam Augusta's, make
The sons of Sword and Hazard fall before
The golden calf, and on their knees, whole nights,
Commit idolatry with wine and trumpets :
Or go a-feasting after drum and ensign.

No more of this. You shall start up young viceroys,
And have your punks, and punketees, my Surly.
And unto thee I speak it first, Be rich.
Where is my Subtle, there? Within, ho!

FACE answers from within.

Sir, he 'll come to you by and by.

Mam. That is his fire-drake,

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 metal, in my house, to gold:

And, early in the morning, will I send
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 Cornwall,

And make them perfect Indies! You admire now? Sur. No, faith.

Mam. But when you see th' 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 see 't, I will.

Mam. Ha! 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 its 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 an old man of fourscore, a child.
Sur. No doubt; he 's that already.

Mam. Nay, I mean,

Restore his years, renew him, like an 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 knife's point,
The quantity of a grain of mustard of it;

Become stout Marses, and beget young Cupids.

Sur. The decay'd vestals of Pict-hatch would thank you,

That keep the fire alive there.

Mam. 'Tis the secret

Of nature naturiz'd 'gainst all infections,
Cures all diseases coming of all causes;

A month's grief in a day, a year's in twelve;
And, of what age soever, in a month:
Past all the doses of your drugging doctors.
I'll undertake, withal, to fright the plague
Out of the kingdom in three months.

Sur. And I'll

Be bound, the players shall sing your praises, then, Without their poets.

Mam. Sir, I'll do 't. Meantime,

I'll give away so much unto my man,

Shall serve the whole city, with preservative,

Weekly; each house his dose, and at the rateSur. As he that built the Waterwork, does with

water?

Mam. You are incredulous.