The Alchemist by Ben Jonson (sneezy the snowman read aloud txt) 📖

forth and speak to him,
  Like a philosopher: answer in the language.
  Name the vexations, and the martyrisations
  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.

  SUB. This is heathen Greek to you still!
  Your lapis philosophicus?

  FACE. 'Tis a stone,
  And not a stone; a spirit, a soul, and a body:
  Which if you do dissolve, it is dissolved;
  If you coagulate, it is coagulated;
  If you make it to fly, it flieth.

  SUB. Enough.
  [EXIT FACE.]
  This is heathen Greek to you! What are you, sir?

  ANA. Please you, a servant of the exiled brethren,
  That deal with widows' and with orphans' goods,
  And make a just account unto the saints:
  A deacon.

  SUB. O, you are sent from master Wholesome,
  Your teacher?

  ANA. From Tribulation Wholesome,
  Our very zealous pastor.

  SUB. Good! I have
  Some orphans' goods to come here.

  ANA. Of what kind, sir?

  SUB. Pewter and brass, andirons and kitchen-ware,
  Metals, that we must use our medicine on:
  Wherein the brethren may have a pennyworth
  For ready money.

  ANA. Were the orphans' parents
  Sincere professors?

  SUB. Why do you ask?

  ANA. Because
  We then are to deal justly, and give, in truth,
  Their utmost value.

  SUB. 'Slid, you'd cozen else,
  And if their parents were not of the faithful!—
  I will not trust you, now I think on it,
  'Till I have talked with your pastor. Have you brought money
  To buy more coals?

  ANA. No, surely.

  SUB. No! how so?

  ANA. The brethren bid me say unto you, sir,
  Surely, they will not venture any more,
  Till they may see projection.

  SUB. How!

  ANA. You have had,
  For the instruments, as bricks, and lome, and glasses,
  Already thirty pound; and for materials,
  They say, some ninety more: and they have heard since,
  That one at Heidelberg, made it of an egg,
  And a small paper of pin-dust.

  SUB. What's your name?

  ANA. My name is Ananias.

  SUB. Out, the varlet
  That cozen'd the apostles! Hence, away!
  Flee, mischief! had your holy consistory
  No name to send me, of another sound,
  Than wicked Ananias? send your elders
  Hither to make atonement for you quickly,
  And give me satisfaction; or out goes
  The fire; and down th' alembics, and the furnace,
  Piger Henricus, or what not. Thou wretch!
  Both sericon and bufo shall be lost,
  Tell them. All hope of rooting out the bishops,
  Or the antichristian hierarchy, shall perish,
  If they stay threescore minutes: the aqueity,
  Terreity, and sulphureity
  Shall run together again, and all be annull'd,
  Thou wicked Ananias!
  [EXIT ANANIAS.]
  This will fetch 'em,
  And make them haste towards their gulling more.
  A man must deal like a rough nurse, and fright
  Those that are froward, to an appetite.

  [RE-ENTER FACE, IN HIS UNIFORM, FOLLOWED BY DRUGGER.]

  FACE. He is busy with his spirits, but we'll upon him.

  SUB. How now! what mates, what Baiards have we here?

  FACE. I told you, he would be furious.—Sir, here's Nab,
  Has brought you another piece of gold to look on:
  —We must appease him. Give it me,—and prays you,
  You would devise—what is it, Nab?

  DRUG. A sign, sir.

  FACE. Ay, a good lucky one, a thriving sign, doctor.

  SUB. I was devising now.

  FACE. 'Slight, do not say so,
  He will repent he gave you any more—
  What say you to his constellation, doctor,
  The Balance?

  SUB. No, that way is stale, and common.
  A townsman born in Taurus, gives the bull,
  Or the bull's-head: in Aries, the ram,
  A poor device! No, I will have his name
  Form'd in some mystic character; whose radii,
  Striking the senses of the passers by,
  Shall, by a virtual influence, breed affections,
  That may result upon the party owns it:
  As thus—

  FACE. Nab!

  SUB. He shall have "a bell," that's "Abel;"
  And by it standing one whose name is "Dee,"
  In a "rug" gown, there's "D," and "Rug," that's "drug:"
  And right anenst him a dog snarling "er;"
  There's "Drugger," Abel Drugger. That's his sign.
  And here's now mystery and hieroglyphic!

  FACE. Abel, thou art made.

  DRUG. Sir, I do thank his worship.

  FACE. Six o' thy legs more will not do it, Nab.
  He has brought you a pipe of tobacco, doctor.

  DRUG. Yes, sir;
  I have another thing I would impart—

  FACE. Out with it, Nab.

  DRUG. Sir, there is lodged, hard by me,
  A rich young widow—

  FACE. Good! a bona roba?

  DRUG. But nineteen, at the most.

  FACE. Very good, Abel.

  DRUG. Marry, she's not in fashion yet; she wears
  A hood, but it stands a cop.

  FACE. No matter, Abel.

  DRUG. And I do now and then give her a fucus—

  FACE. What! dost thou deal, Nab?

  SUB. I did tell you, captain.

  DRUG. And physic too, sometime, sir; for which she trusts me
  With all her mind. She's come up here of purpose
  To learn the fashion.

  FACE. Good (his match too!)—On, Nab.

  DRUG. And she does strangely long to know her fortune.

  FACE. Ods lid, Nab, send her to the doctor, hither.

  DRUG. Yes, I have spoke to her of his worship already;
  But she's afraid it will be blown abroad,
  And hurt her marriage.

  FACE. Hurt it! 'tis the way
  To heal it, if 'twere hurt; to make it more
  Follow'd and sought: Nab, thou shalt tell her this.
  She'll be more known, more talk'd of; and your widows
  Are ne'er of any price till they be famous;
  Their honour is their multitude of suitors.
  Send her, it may be thy good fortune. What!
  Thou dost not know.

  DRUG. No, sir, she'll never marry
  Under a knight: her brother has made a vow.

  FACE. What! and dost thou despair, my little Nab,
  Knowing what the doctor has set down for thee,
  And seeing so many of the city dubb'd?
  One glass o' thy water, with a madam I know,
  Will have it done, Nab: what's her brother, a knight?

  DRUG. No, sir, a gentleman newly warm in his land, sir,
  Scarce cold in his one and twenty, that does govern
  His sister here; and is a man himself
  Of some three thousand a year, and is come up
  To learn to quarrel, and to live by his wits,
  And will go down again, and die in the country.

  FACE. How! to quarrel?

  DRUG. Yes, sir, to carry quarrels,
  As gallants do; to manage them by line.

  FACE. 'Slid, Nab, the doctor is the only man
  In Christendom for him. He has made a table,
  With mathematical demonstrations,
  Touching the art of quarrels: he will give him
  An instrument to quarrel by. Go, bring them both,
  Him and his sister. And, for thee, with her
  The doctor happ'ly may persuade. Go to:
  'Shalt give his worship a new damask suit
  Upon the premises.

  SUB. O, good captain!

  FACE. He shall;
  He is the honestest fellow, doctor.—Stay not,
  No offers; bring the damask, and the parties.

  DRUG. I'll try my power, sir.

  FACE. And thy will too, Nab.

  SUB. 'Tis good tobacco, this! What is't an ounce?

  FACE. He'll send you a pound, doctor.

  SUB. O no.

  FACE. He will do't.
  It is the goodest soul!—Abel, about it.
  Thou shalt know more anon. Away, be gone.
  [EXIT ABEL.]
  A miserable rogue, and lives with cheese,
  And has the worms. That was the cause, indeed,
  Why he came now: he dealt with me in private,
  To get a med'cine for them.

  SUB. And shall, sir. This works.

  FACE. A wife, a wife for one on us, my dear Subtle!
  We'll e'en draw lots, and he that fails, shall have
  The more in goods, the other has in tail.

  SUB. Rather the less: for she may be so light
  She may want grains.

  FACE. Ay, or be such a burden,
  A man would scarce endure her for the whole.

  SUB. Faith, best let's see her first, and then determine.

  FACE. Content: but Dol must have no breath on't.

  SUB. Mum.
  Away you, to your Surly yonder, catch him.

  FACE. 'Pray God I have not staid too long.

  SUB. I fear it.

  [EXEUNT.]