The Alchemist

Name: The Alchemist
Author: Ben Jonson

Ben Jonson

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Dramatis Personae

Subtle, the Alchemist
Face, the Housekeeper
Dol Common, their Colleague
Dapper, a Lawyer’s Clerk
Drugger, a Tobacco Man
Lovewit, Master of the House
Sir Epicure Mammon, a Knight
Pertinax Surly, a Gamester
Tribulation Wholesome, a Pastor of Amsterdam
Ananias, a Deacon there
Kastril, the angry Boy
Dame Pliant, his Sister, a Widow
Neighbours
Officers, Attendants, etc.

Scene: London.

The Alchemist to the lady most deserving her name and blood: Lady Mary Wroth.

Madam,

In the age of sacrifices, the truth of religion was not in the greatness and fat of the offerings, but in the devotion and zeal of the sacrificers: else what could a handle of gums have done in the sight of a hecatomb? or how might I appear at this altar, except with those affections that no less love the light and witness, than they have the conscience of your virtue? If what I offer bear an acceptable odour, and hold the first strength, it is your value of it, which remembers where, when, and to whom it was kindled. Otherwise, as the times are, there comes rarely forth that thing so full of authority or example, but by assiduity and custom grows less, and loses. This, yet, safe in your judgment (which is a Sidney’s) is forbidden to speak more, lest it talk or look like one of the ambitious faces of the time, who, the more they paint, are the less themselves.

To the Reader

If thou beest more, thou art an understander, and then I trust thee. If thou art one that takest up, and but a pretender, beware of what hands thou receivest thy commodity; for thou wert never more fair in the way to be cozened, than in this age, in poetry, especially in plays: wherein, now the concupiscence of dances and of antics so reigneth, as to run away from nature, and be afraid of her, is the only point of art that tickles the spectators. But how out of purpose, and place, do I name art? When the professors are grown so obstinate contemners of it, and presumers on their own naturals, as they are deriders of all diligence that way, and, by simple mocking at the terms, when they understand not the things, think to get off wittily with their ignorance. Nay, they are esteemed the more learned, and sufficient for this, by the many, through their excellent vice of judgment. For they commend writers, as they do fencers or wrestlers; who if they come in robustuously, and put for it with a great deal of violence, are received for the braver fellows: when many times their own rudeness is the cause of their disgrace, and a little touch of their adversary gives all that boisterous force the foil. I deny not, but that these men, who always seek to do more than enough, may some time happen on some thing that is good, and great; but very seldom; and when it comes it doth not recompense the rest of their ill. It sticks out, perhaps, and is more eminent, because all is sordid and vile about it: as lights are more discerned in a thick darkness, than a faint shadow. I speak not this, out of a hope to do good to any man against his will; for I know, if it were put to the question of theirs and mine, the worse would find more suffrages: because the most favour common errors. But I give thee this warning, that there is a great difference between those, that, to gain the opinion of copy, utter all they can, however unfitly; and those that use election and a mean. For it is only the disease of the unskilful, to think rude things greater than polished; or scattered more numerous than composed.

Argument

The sickness hot, a master quit, for fear,
His house in town, and left one servant there;
Ease him corrupted, and gave means to know

A Cheater, and his punk; who now brought low,
Leaving their narrow practice, were become
Cozeners at large; and only wanting some
House to set up, with him they here contract,
Each for a share, and all begin to act.
Much company they draw, and much abuse,
In casting figures, telling fortunes, news,
Selling of flies, flat bawdry with the stone,
Till it, and they, and all in fume are gone.

Prologue

Fortune, that favours fools, these two short hours,
We wish away, both for your sakes and ours,
Judging spectators; and desire, in place,
To the author justice, to ourselves but grace.
Our scene is London, ’cause we would make known,
No country’s mirth is better than our own:
No clime breeds better matter for your whore,
Bawd, squire, impostor, many persons more,
Whose manners, now called humours, feed the stage;
And which have still been subject for the rage
Or spleen of comic writers. Though this pen
Did never aim to grieve, but better men;
Howe’er the age he lives in doth endure
The vices that she breeds, above their cure.
But when the wholesome remedies are sweet,
And in their working gain and profit meet,
He hopes to find no spirit so much diseased,
But will with such fair correctives be pleased:
For here he doth not fear who can apply.
If there be any that will sit so nigh
Unto the stream, to look what it doth run,
They shall find things, they’d think or wish were done;
They are so natural follies, but so shown,
As even the doers may see, and yet not own.

Act I

Scene I

A room in Lovewit’s house.

Face	Believ’t, I will.
Subtle	Thy worst. I fart at thee.
Dol Common	Have you your wits? Why, gentlemen! For love—
Face	Sirrah, I’ll strip you—
Subtle	What to do? Lick figs Out at my—
Face	Rogue, rogue!—out of all your sleights.
Dol Common	Nay, look ye, sovereign, general, are you madmen?
Subtle	O, let the wild sheep loose. I’ll gum your silks With good strong water, an you come.
Dol Common	Will you have The neighbours hear you? Will you betray all? Hark! I hear somebody.
Face	Sirrah—
Subtle	I shall mar All that the tailor has made, if you approach.
Face	You most notorious whelp, you insolent slave, Dare you do this?
Subtle	Yes, faith; yes, faith.
Face	Why, who Am I, my mongrel? Who am I?
Subtle	I’ll tell you, Since you know not yourself.
Face	Speak lower, rogue.
Subtle	Yes, you were once (time’s not long past) the good, Honest, plain, livery-three-pound-thrum, that kept Your master’s worship’s house here in the Friars, For the vacations—
Face	Will you be so loud?
Subtle	Since, by my means, translated Suburb-Captain.
Face	By your means, Doctor Dog!
Subtle	Within man’s memory, All this I speak of.
Face	Why, I pray you, have I Been countenanced by you, or you by me? Do but collect, sir, where I met you first.
Subtle	I do not hear well.
Face	Not of this, I think it. But I shall put you in mind, sir;—at Pie-corner, Taking your meal of steam in, from cooks’ stalls, Where, like the father of hunger, you did walk Piteously costive, with your pinched-horn-nose, And your complexion of the Roman wash, Stuck full of black and melancholic worms, Like powder corns shot at the artillery-yard.
Subtle	I wish you could advance your voice a little.
Face	When you went pinned up in the several rags You had raked and picked from dunghills, before day; Your feet in mouldy slippers, for your kibes; A felt of rug, and a thin threaden cloak, That scarce would cover your no buttocks—
Subtle	So, sir!
Face	When all your alchemy, and your algebra, Your minerals, vegetals, and animals, Your conjuring, cozening, and your dozen of trades, Could not relieve your corps with so much linen Would make you tinder, but to see a fire; I gave you countenance, credit for your coals, Your stills, your glasses, your materials; Built you a furnace, drew you customers, Advanced all your black arts; lent you, beside, A house to practise in—
Subtle	Your master’s house!
Face	Where you have studied the more thriving skill Of bawdry since.
Subtle	Yes, in your master’s house. You and the rats here kept possession. Make it not strange. I know you were one could keep The buttery-hatch still locked, and save the chippings, Sell the dole beer to aqua-vitae men, The which, together with your Christmas vails At post-and-pair, your letting out of counters, Made you a pretty stock, some twenty marks, And gave you credit to converse with cobwebs, Here, since your mistress’ death hath broke up house.
Face	You might talk softlier, rascal.
Subtle	No, you scarab, I’ll thunder you in pieces: I will teach you How to beware to tempt a Fury again, That carries tempest in his hand and voice.
Face	The place has made you valiant.
Subtle	No, your clothes.— Thou vermin, have I ta’en thee out of dung, So poor, so wretched, when no living thing Would keep thee company, but a spider, or worse? Raised thee from brooms, and dust, and watering-pots, Sublimed thee, and exalted thee, and fixed thee In the third region, called our state of grace? Wrought thee to spirit, to quintessence, with pains Would twice have won me the philosopher’s work? Put thee in words and fashion, made thee fit For more than ordinary fellowships? Given thee thy oaths, thy quarrelling dimensions, Thy rules to cheat at horse-race, cock-pit, cards, Dice, or whatever gallant tincture else? Made thee a second in mine own great art? And have I this for thanks! Do you rebel, Do you fly out in the projection? Would you be gone now?
Dol Common	Gentlemen, what mean you? Will you mar all?
Subtle	Slave, thou hadst had no name—
Dol Common	Will you undo yourselves with civil war?
Subtle	Never been known, past equi clibanum, The heat of horse-dung, under ground, in cellars, Or an alehouse darker than deaf John’s; been lost To all mankind, but laundresses and tapsters, Had not I been.
Dol Common	Do you know who hears you, Sovereign?
Face	Sirrah—
Dol Common	Nay, General, I thought you were civil.
Face	I shall turn desperate, if you grow thus loud.
Subtle	And hang thyself, I care not.
Face	Hang thee, collier, And all thy pots, and pans, in picture, I will, Since thou hast moved me—
Dol Common	O, this will o’erthrow all.
Face	Write thee up bawd in Paul’s, have all thy tricks Of cozening with a hollow coal, dust, scrapings, Searching for things lost, with a sieve and sheers, Erecting figures in your rows of houses, And taking in of shadows with a glass, Told in red letters; and a face cut for thee, Worse than Gamaliel Ratsey’s.
Dol Common	Are you sound? Have you your senses, masters?
Face	I will have A book, but barely reckoning thy impostures, Shall prove a true philosopher’s stone to printers.
Subtle	Away, you trencher-rascal!
Face	Out, you dog-leech! The vomit of all prisons—
Dol Common	Will you be Your own destructions, gentlemen?
Face	Still spewed out For lying too heavy on the basket.
Subtle	Cheater!
Face	Bawd!
Subtle	Cowherd!
Face	Conjurer!
Subtle	Cutpurse!
Face	Witch!
Dol Common	O me! We are ruined, lost! Have you no more regard To your reputations? Where’s your judgment? ’Slight, Have yet some care of me, of your republic—
Face	Away, this brach! I’ll bring thee, rogue, within The statute of sorcery, tricesimo tertio Of Harry the Eighth: ay, and perhaps thy neck Within a noose, for laundering gold and barbing it.
Dol Common	Snatches Face’s* sword.* You’ll bring your head within a cockscomb, will you? And you, sir, with your menstrue— Dashes Subtle’s* vial out of his hand.* Gather it up.— ’Sdeath, you abominable pair of stinkards, Leave off your barking, and grow one again, Or, by the light that shines, I’ll cut your throats. I’ll not be made a prey unto the marshal, For ne’er a snarling dog-bolt of you both. Have you together cozened all this while, And all the world, and shall it now be said, You’ve made most courteous shift to cozen yourselves? To Face. You will accuse him! You will “bring him in Within the statute!” Who shall take your word? A whoreson, upstart, apocryphal Captain, Whom not a Puritan in Blackfriars will trust So much as for a feather: To Subtle. and you, too, Will give the cause, forsooth! You will insult, And claim a primacy in the divisions! You must be chief! As if you only had The powder to project with, and the work Were not begun out of equality? The venture tripartite? All things in common? Without priority? ’Sdeath! You perpetual curs, Fall to your couples again, and cozen kindly, And heartily, and lovingly, as you should, And lose not the beginning of a term, Or, by this hand, I shall grow factious too, And take my part, and quit you.
Face	’Tis his fault; He ever murmurs, and objects his pains, And says, the weight of all lies upon him.
Subtle	Why, so it does.
Dol Common	How does it? Do not we Sustain our parts?
Subtle	Yes, but they are not equal.
Dol Common	Why, if your part exceed today, I hope Ours may, tomorrow match it.
Subtle	Ay, they may.
Dol Common	May, murmuring mastiff! Ay, and do. Death on me! Help me to throttle him.
	Seizes Subtle* by the throat.*
Subtle	Dorothy! Mistress Dorothy! ’Ods precious, I’ll do anything. What do you mean?
Dol Common	Because o’ your fermentation and cibation?
Subtle	Not I, by heaven—
Dol Common	Your Sol and Luna To Face. —help me.
Subtle	Would I were hanged then? I’ll conform myself.
Dol Common	Will you, sir? Do so then, and quickly: swear.
Subtle	What should I swear?
Dol Common	To leave your faction, sir, And labour kindly in the common work.
Subtle	Let me not breathe if I meant aught beside. I only used those speeches as a spur To him.
Dol Common	I hope we need no spurs, sir. Do we?
Face	’Slid, prove today, who shall shark best.
Subtle	Agreed.
Dol Common	Yes, and work close and friendly.
Subtle	’Slight, the knot Shall grow the stronger for this breach, with me.
	They shake hands.
Dol Common	Why, so, my good baboons! Shall we go make A sort of sober, scurvy, precise neighbours, That scarce have smiled twice since the king came in, A feast of laughter at our follies? Rascals, Would run themselves from breath, to see me ride, Or you t’ have but a hole to thrust your heads in, For which you should pay ear-rent? No, agree. And may Don Provost ride a feasting long, In his old velvet jerkin and stained scarfs, My noble Sovereign, and worthy General, Ere we contribute a new crewel garter To his most worsted worship.
Subtle	Royal Dol! Spoken like Claridiana, and thyself.
Face	For which at supper, thou shalt sit in triumph, And not be styled Dol Common, but Dol Proper, Dol Singular: the longest cut at night, Shall draw thee for his Dol Particular.
	Bell rings without.
Subtle	Who’s that? One rings. To the window, Dol:
	Exit Dol.
	—pray heaven, The master do not trouble us this quarter.
Face	O, fear not him. While there dies one a week O’ the plague, he’s safe, from thinking toward London. Beside, he’s busy at his hop-yards now; I had a letter from him. If he do, He’ll send such word, for airing of the house, As you shall have sufficient time to quit it: Though we break up a fortnight, ’tis no matter.
	Reenter Dol.
Subtle	Who is it, Dol?
Dol Common	A fine young quodling.
Face	O, My lawyer’s clerk, I lighted on last night, In Holborn, at the Dagger. He would have (I told you of him) a familiar, To rifle with at horses, and win cups.
Dol Common	O, let him in.
Subtle	Stay. Who shall do’t?
Face	Get you Your robes on: I will meet him as going out.
Dol Common	And what shall I do?
Face	Not be seen; away!
	Exit Dol.
	Seem you very reserved.
Subtle	Enough.
	Exit.
Face	Aloud and retiring. God be wi’ you, sir, I pray you let him know that I was here: His name is Dapper. I would gladly have stayed, but—
Dapper	Within. Captain, I am here.
Face	Who’s that?—He’s come, I think, Doctor.
	Enter Dapper.
	Good faith, sir, I was going away.
Dapper	In truth I am very sorry, Captain.
Face	But I thought Sure I should meet you.
Dapper	Ay, I am very glad. I had a scurvy writ or two to make, And I had lent my watch last night to one That dines today at the sheriff’s, and so was robbed Of my past-time.
	Reenter Subtle* in his velvet cap and gown.*
	Is this the cunning-man?
Face	This is his worship.
Dapper	Is he a Doctor?
Face	Yes.
Dapper	And have you broke with him, Captain?
Face	Ay.
Dapper	And how?
Face	Faith, he does make the matter, sir, so dainty I know not what to say.
Dapper	Not so, good Captain.
Face	Would I were fairly rid of it, believe me.
Dapper	Nay, now you grieve me, sir. Why should you wish so? I dare assure you, I’ll not be ungrateful.
Face	I cannot think you will, sir. But the law Is such a thing—and then he says, Read’s matter Falling so lately.
Dapper	Read! He was an ass, And dealt, sir, with a fool.
Face	It was a clerk, sir.
Dapper	A clerk!
Face	Nay, hear me, sir. You know the law Better, I think—
Dapper	I should, sir, and the danger: You know, I showed the statute to you.
Face	You did so.
Dapper	And will I tell then! By this hand of flesh, Would it might never write good court-hand more, If I discover. What do you think of me, That I am a chiaus?
Face	What’s that?
Dapper	The Turk was here. As one would say, do you think I am a Turk?
Face	I’ll tell the Doctor so.
Dapper	Do, good sweet Captain.
Face	Come, noble Doctor, pray thee let’s prevail; This is the gentleman, and he is no chiaus.
Subtle	Captain, I have returned you all my answer. I would do much, sir, for your love—But this I neither may, nor can.
Face	Tut, do not say so. You deal now with a noble fellow, Doctor, One that will thank you richly; and he is no chiaus: Let that, sir, move you.
Subtle	Pray you, forbear—
Face	He has Four angels here.
Subtle	You do me wrong, good sir.
Face	Doctor, wherein? To tempt you with these spirits?
Subtle	To tempt my art and love, sir, to my peril. Fore heaven, I scarce can think you are my friend, That so would draw me to apparent danger.
Face	I draw you! A horse draw you, and a halter, You, and your flies together—
Dapper	Nay, good Captain.
Face	That know no difference of men.
Subtle	Good words, sir.
Face	Good deeds, sir, Doctor Dogs-meat. ’Slight, I bring you No cheating Clim o’ the Cloughs or Claribels, That look as big as five-and-fifty, and flush; And spit out secrets like hot custard—
Dapper	Captain!
Face	Nor any melancholic under-scribe, Shall tell the vicar; but a special gentle, That is the heir to forty marks a year, Consorts with the small poets of the time, Is the sole hope of his old grandmother; That knows the law, and writes you six fair hands, Is a fine clerk, and has his ciphering perfect. Will take his oath o’ the Greek Testament, If need be, in his pocket; and can court His mistress out of Ovid.
Dapper	Nay, dear Captain—
Face	Did you not tell me so?
Dapper	Yes; but I’d have you Use master Doctor with some more respect.
Face	Hang him, proud stag, with his broad velvet head!— But for your sake, I’d choke, ere I would change An article of breath with such a puckfist: Come, let’s be gone.
	Going.
Subtle	Pray you let me speak with you.
Dapper	His worship calls you, Captain.
Face	I am sorry I e’er embarked myself in such a business.
Dapper	Nay, good sir; he did call you.
Face	Will he take then?
Subtle	First, hear me—
Face	Not a syllable, ’less you take.
Subtle	Pray you, sir—
Face	Upon no terms but an assumpsit.
Subtle	Your humour must be law. He takes the four angels.
Face	Why now, sir, talk. Now I dare hear you with mine honour. Speak. So may this gentleman too.
Subtle	Why, sir— Offering to whisper Face.
Face	No whispering.
Subtle	Fore heaven, you do not apprehend the loss You do yourself in this.
Face	Wherein? For what?
Subtle	Marry, to be so importunate for one, That, when he has it, will undo you all: He’ll win up all the money in the town.
Face	How!
Subtle	Yes, and blow up gamester after gamester, As they do crackers in a puppet-play. If I do give him a familiar, Give you him all you play for; never set him: For he will have it.
Face	You are mistaken, Doctor. Why he does ask one but for cups and horses, A rifling fly; none of your great familiars.
Dapper	Yes, Captain, I would have it for all games.
Subtle	I told you so.
Face	Taking Dapper* aside.* ’Slight, that is a new business! I understood you, a tame bird, to fly Twice in a term, or so, on Friday nights, When you had left the office, for a nag Of forty or fifty shillings.
Dapper	Ay, ’tis true, sir; But I do think now I shall leave the law, And therefore—
Face	Why, this changes quite the case. Do you think that I dare move him?
Dapper	If you please, sir; All’s one to him, I see.
Face	What! For that money? I cannot with my conscience; nor should you Make the request, methinks.
Dapper	No, sir, I mean To add consideration.
Face	Why then, sir, I’ll try.— Goes to Subtle. Say that it were for all games, Doctor.
Subtle	I say then, not a mouth shall eat for him At any ordinary, but on the score, That is a gaming mouth, conceive me.
Face	Indeed!
Subtle	He’ll draw you all the treasure of the realm, If it be set him.
Face	Speak you this from art?
Subtle	Ay, sir, and reason too, the ground of art. He is of the only best complexion, The Queen of Fairy loves.
Face	What! Is he?
Subtle	Peace. He’ll overhear you. Sir, should she but see him—
Face	What?
Subtle	Do not you tell him.
Face	Will he win at cards too?
Subtle	The spirits of dead Holland, living Isaac, You’d swear, were in him; such a vigorous luck As cannot be resisted. ’Slight, he’ll put Six of your gallants to a cloak, indeed.
Face	A strange success, that some man shall be born to.
Subtle	He hears you, man—
Dapper	Sir, I’ll not be ingrateful.
Face	Faith, I have confidence in his good nature: You hear, he says he will not be ingrateful.
Subtle	Why, as you please; my venture follows yours.
Face	Troth, do it, Doctor; think him trusty, and make him. He may make us both happy in an hour; Win some five thousand pound, and send us two on’t.
Dapper	Believe it, and I will, sir.
Face	And you shall, sir. Takes him aside. You have heard all?
Dapper	No, what was’t? Nothing, I, sir.
Face	Nothing!
Dapper	A little, sir.
Face	Well, a rare star Reigned at your birth.
Dapper	At mine, sir! No.
Face	The Doctor Swears that you are—
Subtle	Nay, Captain, you’ll tell all now.
Face	Allied to the Queen of Fairy.
Dapper	Who! That I am? Believe it, no such matter—
Face	Yes, and that You were born with a cawl on your head.
Dapper	Who says so?
Face	Come, You know it well enough, though you dissemble it.
Dapper	I’fac, I do not; you are mistaken.
Face	How! Swear by your fac, and in a thing so known Unto the Doctor? How shall we, sir, trust you In the other matter? Can we ever think, When you have won five or six thousand pound, You’ll send us shares in’t, by this rate?
Dapper	By Jove, sir, I’ll win ten thousand pound, and send you half. I’fac’s no oath.
Subtle	No, no, he did but jest.
Face	Go to. Go thank the Doctor: he’s your friend, To take it so.
Dapper	I thank his worship.
Face	So! Another angel.
Dapper	Must I?
Face	Must you! ’Slight, What else is thanks? Will you be trivial?—Doctor, Dapper gives him the money. When must he come for his familiar?
Dapper	Shall I not have it with me?
Subtle	O, good sir! There must a world of ceremonies pass; You must be bathed and fumigated first: Besides the Queen of Fairy does not rise Till it be noon.
Face	Not, if she danced, tonight.
Subtle	And she must bless it.
Face	Did you never see Her royal Grace yet?
Dapper	Whom?
Face	Your aunt of Fairy?
Subtle	Not since she kissed him in the cradle, Captain; I can resolve you that.
Face	Well, see her Grace, Whate’er it cost you, for a thing that I know. It will be somewhat hard to compass; but However, see her. You are made, believe it, If you can see her. Her Grace is a lone woman, And very rich; and if she take a fancy, She will do strange things. See her, at any hand. ’Slid, she may hap to leave you all she has: It is the Doctor’s fear.
Dapper	How will’t be done, then?
Face	Let me alone, take you no thought. Do you But say to me, Captain, I’ll see her Grace.
Dapper	“Captain, I’ll see her Grace.”
Face	Enough.
	Knocking within.
Subtle	Who’s there? Anon. Aside to Face. —Conduct him forth by the back way.— Sir, against one o’clock prepare yourself; Till when you must be fasting; only take Three drops of vinegar in at your nose, Two at your mouth, and one at either ear; Then bathe your fingers’ ends and wash your eyes, To sharpen your five senses, and cry “hum” Thrice, and then “buz” as often; and then come.
	Exit.
Face	Can you remember this?
Dapper	I warrant you.
Face	Well then, away. It is but your bestowing Some twenty nobles ’mong her Grace’s servants, And put on a clean shirt: you do not know What grace her Grace may do you in clean linen.
	Exeunt Face* and Dapper.*
Subtle	Within. Come in! Good wives, I pray you forbear me now; Troth I can do you no good till afternoon—
	Reenters, followed by Drugger.
	What is your name, say you? Abel Drugger?
Drugger	Yes, sir.
Subtle	A seller of tobacco?
Drugger	Yes, sir.
Subtle	Umph! Free of the grocers?
Drugger	Ay, and’t please you.
Subtle	Well— Your business, Abel?
Drugger	This, and’t please your worship; I am a young beginner, and am building Of a new shop, and’t like your worship, just At corner of a street:—Here is the plot on’t— And I would know by art, sir, of your worship, Which way I should make my door, by necromancy, And where my shelves; and which should be for boxes, And which for pots. I would be glad to thrive, sir: And I was wished to your worship by a gentleman, One Captain Face, that says you know men’s planets, And their good angels, and their bad.
Subtle	I do, If I do see them—
	Reenter Face.
Face	What! My honest Abel? Though art well met here.
Drugger	Troth, sir, I was speaking, Just as your worship came here, of your worship: I pray you speak for me to Master Doctor.
Face	He shall do anything.—Doctor, do you hear? This is my friend, Abel, an honest fellow; He lets me have good tobacco, and he does not Sophisticate it with sack-lees or oil, Nor washes it in muscadel and grains, Nor buries it in gravel, under ground, Wrapped up in greasy leather, or pissed clouts: But keeps it in fine lily pots, that, opened, Smell like conserve of roses, or French beans. He has his maple block, his silver tongs, Winchester pipes, and fire of Juniper: A neat, spruce, honest fellow, and no goldsmith.
Subtle	He is a fortunate fellow, that I am sure on.
Face	Already, sir, have you found it? Lo thee, Abel!
Subtle	And in right way toward riches—
Face	Sir!
Subtle	This summer He will be of the clothing of his company, And next spring called to the scarlet; spend what he can.
Face	What, and so little beard?
Subtle	Sir, you must think, He may have a receipt to make hair come: But he’ll be wise, preserve his youth, and fine for’t; His fortune looks for him another way.
Face	’Slid, Doctor, how canst thou know this so soon? I am amused at that!
Subtle	By a rule, Captain, In metoposcopy, which I do work by; A certain star in the forehead, which you see not. Your chestnut or your olive-coloured face Does never fail: and your long ear doth promise. I knew’t by certain spots, too, in his teeth, And on the nail of his mercurial finger.
Face	Which finger’s that?
Subtle	His little finger. Look. You were born upon a Wednesday?
Drugger	Yes, indeed, sir.
Subtle	The thumb, in chiromancy, we give Venus; The forefinger, to Jove; the midst, to Saturn; The ring, to Sol; the least, to Mercury, Who was the lord, sir, of his horoscope, His house of life being Libra; which foreshowed, He should be a merchant, and should trade with balance.
Face	Why, this is strange! Is it not, honest Nab?
Subtle	There is a ship now, coming from Ormus, That shall yield him such a commodity Of drugs Pointing to the plan. —This is the west, and this the south?
Drugger	Yes, sir.
Subtle	And those are your two sides?
Drugger	Ay, sir.
Subtle	Make me your door, then, south; your broad side, west: And on the east side of your shop, aloft, Write Mathlai, Tarmiel, and Baraborat; Upon the north part, Rael, Velel, Thiel. They are the names of those mercurial spirits, That do fright flies from boxes.
Drugger	Yes, sir.
Subtle	And Beneath your threshold, bury me a loadstone To draw in gallants that wear spurs: the rest, They’ll seem to follow.
Face	That’s a secret, Nab!
Subtle	And, on your stall, a puppet, with a vice And a court-fucus to call city-dames: You shall deal much with minerals.
Drugger	Sir, I have. At home, already—
Subtle	Ay, I know you have arsenic, Vitriol, sal-tartar, argaile, alkali, Cinoper: I know all.—This fellow, Captain, Will come, in time, to be a great distiller, And give a say—I will not say directly, But very fair—at the philosopher’s stone.
Face	Why, how now, Abel! Is this true?
Drugger	Aside to Face. Good Captain, What must I give?
Face	Nay, I’ll not counsel thee. Thou hear’st what wealth (he says, spend what thou canst,) Thou’rt like to come to.
Drugger	I would gi’ him a crown.
Face	A crown! And toward such a fortune? Heart, Thou shalt rather gi’ him thy shop. No gold about thee?
Drugger	Yes, I have a portague, I have kept this half-year.
Face	Out on thee, Nab! ’Slight, there was such an offer— Shalt keep’t no longer, I’ll give’t him for thee. Doctor, Nab prays your worship to drink this, and swears He will appear more grateful, as your skill Does raise him in the world.
Drugger	I would entreat Another favour of his worship.
Face	What is’t, Nab?
Drugger	But to look over, sir, my almanac, And cross out my ill-days, that I may neither Bargain, nor trust upon them.
Face	That he shall, Nab: Leave it, it shall be done, ’gainst afternoon.
Subtle	And a direction for his shelves.
Face	Now, Nab, Art thou well pleased, Nab?
Drugger	’Thank, sir, both your worships.
Face	Away.
	Exit Drugger.
	Why, now, you smoaky persecutor of nature! Now do you see, that something’s to be done, Beside your beech-coal, and your corsive waters, Your crosslets, crucibles, and cucurbites? You must have stuff brought home to you, to work on: And yet you think, I am at no expense In searching out these veins, then following them, Then trying them out. ’Fore God, my intelligence Costs me more money, than my share oft comes to, In these rare works.
Subtle	You are pleasant, sir.
	Reenter Dol.
	—How now! What says my dainty Dolkin?
Dol Common	Yonder fishwife Will not away. And there’s your giantess, The bawd of Lambeth.
Subtle	Heart, I cannot speak with them.
Dol Common	Not afore night, I have told them in a voice, Thorough the trunk, like one of your familiars. But I have spied sir Epicure Mammon—
Subtle	Where?
Dol Common	Coming along, at far end of the lane, Slow of his feet, but earnest of his tongue To one that’s with him.
Subtle	Face, go you and shift.
	Exit Face.
	Dol, you must presently make ready, too.
Dol Common	Why, what’s the matter?
Subtle	O, 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 He has, this month, talked as he were possessed. And now he’s dealing pieces on’t away.— Methinks I see him entering ordinaries, Dispensing for the pox, and plaguey houses, Reaching his dose, walking Moorfields for lepers, And offering citizens’ wives pomander-bracelets, As his preservative, made of the elixir; Searching the spittal, to make old bawds young; And the highways, for beggars, to make rich. I see no end of his labours. He will make Nature ashamed of her long sleep: when art, Who’s but a step-dame, shall do more than she, In her best love to mankind, ever could: If his dream lasts, he’ll turn the age to gold.
	Exeunt.

fetching the rest…

Dramatis Personae

Subtle, the Alchemist

Face, the Housekeeper

Dol Common, their Colleague

Dapper, a Lawyer’s Clerk

Drugger, a Tobacco Man

Lovewit, Master of the House

Sir Epicure Mammon, a Knight

Pertinax Surly, a Gamester

Tribulation Wholesome, a Pastor of Amsterdam

Ananias, a Deacon there

Kastril, the angry Boy

Dame Pliant, his Sister, a Widow

Neighbours

Officers, Attendants, etc.