_Mam._ Nay, I mean, Restore his years, renew him, like an eagle, To the fifth age; make him get sons and daughters, Young giants; as our philosophers have done, The ancient patriarchs, afore the flood, But taking, once a week, on a knife’s point, The quantity of a grain of mustard of it; Become stout Marses, and beget young Cupids. * * * * * You are incredulous. _Surly._ Faith, I have a humour, I would not willingly be gull’d. Your stone Cannot transmute me. _Mam._ Pertinax Surly, Will you believe antiquity? records? I’ll shew you a book where Moses and his sister, And Solomon have written of the art; Ay, and a treatise penn’d by Adam— _Surly._ How! _Mam._ Of the philosopher’s stone, and in High Dutch. _Surly._ Did Adam write, Sir, in High Dutch? _Mam._ He did; Which proves it was the primitive tongue. * * * * * [_Enter Face, as a servant._ How now! Do we succeed? Is our day come, and holds it? _Face._ The evening will set red upon you, Sir: You have colour for it, crimson; the red ferment Has done his office: three hours hence prepare you To see projection. _Mam._ Pertinax, my Surly, Again I say to thee, aloud, Be rich. This day thou shalt have ingots; and to-morrow Give lords the affront. * * * * Where’s thy master? _Face._ At his prayers, Sir, he; Good man, he’s doing his devotions For the success. _Mam._ Lungs, I will set a period To all thy labours; thou shalt be the master Of my seraglio ... For I do mean To have a list of wives and concubines Equal with Solomon: * * * * I will have all my beds blown up, not stuft: Down is too hard; and then, mine oval room Fill’d with such pictures as Tiberius took From Elephantis, and dull Aretine But coldly imitated. Then, my glasses Cut in more subtle angles, to disperse And multiply the figures, as I walk. * * * My mists I’ll have of perfume, vapoured about the room To lose ourselves in; and my baths, like pits To fall into: from whence we will come forth, And roll us dry in gossamer and roses. Is it arriv’d at ruby? Where I spy A wealthy citizen, or a rich lawyer, Have a sublimed pure wife, unto that fellow I’ll send a thousand pound to be my cuckold. _Face._ And I shall carry it?