ALB. 'Tis a hard thing; for _de privatione ad habitum non datur regressus_. O, what a business, what a masterpiece 'Tis to raise up his ghost whose body's eaten By fish! This work desires a planetary intelligence Of Jupiter and Sol; and these great spirits Are proud, fantastical. It asks much charges, To entice them from the guiding of their spheres To wait on mortals. PAN. So I may have my purpose, spare for no cost. ALB. Sir, spare your purse; I'll do it an easier way; The work shall cost you nothing. We have an art is call'd præstigiatory,[265] That deals with spirits and intelligences Of meaner office and condition, Whose service craves small charges: with one of these I'll change some servant[266] or good friend of yours To the perfect shape of this Antonio: So like in face, behaviour, speech, and action, That all the town shall swear Antonio lives. PAN. Most necromantical astrologer! Do this, and take me for your servant ever. And, for your pains, after the transformation, This chain is yours:[267] it cost two hundred pound, Beside the jewel. ALB. After the work is finish'd, then--how now? What lines are these, that look sanguineous, As if the stars conjur'd to do you mischief? PAN. How! mean you me? ALB. They're dusky marks of Saturn: It seems some stone shall fall upon your head, Threat'ning a fracture of the pericranium. PAN. Cricca, come hither; fetch me my staff again; Threescore and ten's return'd: a general palsy Shakes out the love of Flavia with a fear. Is there no remedy? ALB. Nothing but patience. The planet threatens so, whose prey you are. The stars and planets daily war together; For, should they stand at truce but one half-hour, This wond'rous machine of the world would ruin: Who can withstand their powerful influence? PAN. You with your wisdom, good Albumazar. ALB. Indeed, th' Egyptian, Ptolemy the Wise, Pronounc'd it as an oracle of truth, _Sapiens dominabitur astris_. Who's above there? Ronca, bring down the cap, Made in the point of Mercury being ascendant. Here, put it on; and in your hand this image, Fram'd on a Tuesday, when the fierce god of war Mounted th' horizon in the sign of Aries. With these walk as unwounded as Achilles, Dipp'd by his mother Thetis. PAN. You bind me to your service. ALB. Next get the man you purpose to transform, And meet me here. PAN. I will not fail to find you. ALB. Meanwhile, with sciotherical[268] instrument, By way of azimuth[269] and almicantarath,[270] I'll seek some happy point in heaven for you. PAN. I rest your servant, sir. ALB. Let all the stars Guide you with most propitious influence. SCENE VIII. PANDOLFO, CRICCA.