SUB. 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. DRUG. Yes, sir. SUB. And Beneath your threshold, bury me a load-stone To draw in gallants that wear spurs: the rest, They'll seem to follow. FACE. That's a secret, Nab! SUB. And, on your stall, a puppet, with a vice And a court-fucus to call city-dames: You shall deal much with minerals. DRUG. Sir, I have. At home, already-- SUB. 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? DRUG [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. DRUG. 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? DRUG. 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. DRUG. I would entreat Another favour of his worship. FACE. What is't, Nab? DRUG. But to look over, sir, my almanack, 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. SUB. And a direction for his shelves. FACE. Now, Nab, Art thou well pleased, Nab? DRUG. '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. SUB. You are pleasant, sir. [RE-ENTER DOL.] --How now! What says my dainty Dolkin? DOL. Yonder fish-wife Will not away. And there's your giantess, The bawd of Lambeth. SUB. Heart, I cannot speak with them. DOL. 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-- SUB. Where? DOL. Coming along, at far end of the lane, Slow of his feet, but earnest of his tongue To one that's with him.