FACE. Sir, please you, Shall I not change the filter? SUB. Marry, yes; And bring me the complexion of glass B. [EXIT FACE.] MAM. Have you another? SUB. Yes, son; were I assured-- Your piety were firm, we would not want The means to glorify it: but I hope the best.-- I mean to tinct C in sand-heat to-morrow, And give him imbibition. MAM. Of white oil? SUB. No, sir, of red. F is come over the helm too, I thank my Maker, in S. Mary's bath, And shews lac virginis. Blessed be heaven! I sent you of his faeces there calcined: Out of that calx, I have won the salt of mercury. MAM. By pouring on your rectified water? SUB. Yes, and reverberating in Athanor. [RE-ENTER FACE.] How now! what colour says it? FACE. The ground black, sir. MAM. That's your crow's head? SUR. Your cock's-comb's, is it not? SUB. No, 'tis not perfect. Would it were the crow! That work wants something. SUR [ASIDE]. O, I looked for this. The hay's a pitching. SUB. Are you sure you loosed them In their own menstrue? FACE. Yes, sir, and then married them, And put them in a bolt's-head nipp'd to digestion, According as you bade me, when I set The liquor of Mars to circulation In the same heat. SUB. The process then was right. FACE. Yes, by the token, sir, the retort brake, And what was saved was put into the pellican, And sign'd with Hermes' seal. SUB. I think 'twas so. We should have a new amalgama. SUR [ASIDE]. O, this ferret Is rank as any pole-cat. SUB. But I care not: Let him e'en die; we have enough beside, In embrion. H has his white shirt on? FACE. Yes, sir, He's ripe for inceration, he stands warm, In his ash-fire. I would not you should let Any die now, if I might counsel, sir, For luck's sake to the rest: it is not good. MAM. He says right. SUR [ASIDE]. Ay, are you bolted? FACE. Nay, I know't, sir, I have seen the ill fortune. What is some three ounces Of fresh materials? MAM. Is't no more? FACE. No more, sir. Of gold, t'amalgame with some six of mercury. MAM. Away, here's money. What will serve? FACE. Ask him, sir. MAM. How much? SUB. Give him nine pound:--you may give him ten. SUR. Yes, twenty, and be cozen'd, do. MAM. There 'tis. [GIVES FACE THE MONEY.] SUB. This needs not; but that you will have it so, To see conclusions of all: for two Of our inferior works are at fixation, A third is in ascension. Go your ways. Have you set the oil of luna in kemia? FACE. Yes, sir. SUB. And the philosopher's vinegar? FACE. Ay. [EXIT.] SUR. We shall have a sallad! MAM. When do you make projection?