MAM. That makes it, sir; he is so: but I buy it; My venture brings it me. He, honest wretch, A notable, superstitious, good soul, Has worn his knees bare, and his slippers bald, With prayer and fasting for it: and, sir, let him Do it alone, for me, still. Here he comes. Not a profane word afore him: 'tis poison.-- [ENTER SUBTLE.] Good morrow, father. SUB. Gentle son, good morrow, And to your friend there. What is he, is with you? MAM. An heretic, that I did bring along, In hope, sir, to convert him. SUB. Son, I doubt You are covetous, that thus you meet your time In the just point: prevent your day at morning. This argues something, worthy of a fear Of importune and carnal appetite. Take heed you do not cause the blessing leave you, With your ungovern'd haste. I should be sorry To see my labours, now even at perfection, Got by long watching and large patience, Not prosper where my love and zeal hath placed them. Which (heaven I call to witness, with your self, To whom I have pour'd my thoughts) in all my ends, Have look'd no way, but unto public good, To pious uses, and dear charity Now grown a prodigy with men. Wherein If you, my son, should now prevaricate, And, to your own particular lusts employ So great and catholic a bliss, be sure A curse will follow, yea, and overtake Your subtle and most secret ways. MAM. I know, sir; You shall not need to fear me; I but come, To have you confute this gentleman. SUR. Who is, Indeed, sir, somewhat costive of belief Toward your stone; would not be gull'd. SUB. Well, son, All that I can convince him in, is this, The WORK IS DONE, bright sol is in his robe. We have a medicine of the triple soul, The glorified spirit. Thanks be to heaven, And make us worthy of it!--Ulen Spiegel! FACE [WITHIN]. Anon, sir. SUB. Look well to the register. And let your heat still lessen by degrees, To the aludels. FACE [WITHIN]. Yes, sir. SUB. Did you look On the bolt's-head yet? FACE [WITHIN]. Which? on D, sir? SUB. Ay; What's the complexion? FACE [WITHIN]. Whitish. SUB. Infuse vinegar, To draw his volatile substance and his tincture: And let the water in glass E be filter'd, And put into the gripe's egg. Lute him well; And leave him closed in balneo. FACE [WITHIN]. I will, sir. SUR. What a brave language here is! next to canting. SUB. I have another work, you never saw, son, That three days since past the philosopher's wheel, In the lent heat of Athanor; and's become Sulphur of Nature. MAM. But 'tis for me? SUB. What need you? You have enough in that is perfect. MAM. O but-- SUB. Why, this is covetise! MAM. No, I assure you, I shall employ it all in pious uses, Founding of colleges and grammar schools, Marrying young virgins, building hospitals, And now and then a church. [RE-ENTER FACE.] SUB. How now!