“Oh,” said the devil to me, “if they had done no more than that, they should scarcely have come here; but think of their lost time, knaveries, and secret crimes! In the terrestrial paradise, a male and female comedian enacted a scene, that hath given to the devil the whole human race.” “Ah! who had they for spectators when they were alone in the world?” “No, it is not the comedy which damns the players; it is what passes behind the scenes.” In the following chamber were the physicians and their suit: they composed poisons for themselves; they took the doses when prepared; they bled and purged themselves, and tried every dangerous and disagreeable remedy in medicine, surgery, and chemistry, to procure death to themselves, and could not succeed. “They once used their art,” said the devil, “for a bad purpose, and now their art fails them at their utmost need: do what they will, they cannot die, because the air of hell is a fire which purifies and conserves.” In a cabinet near this chamber, were a number of persons endeavouring to make gold, or to speak more plainly, sought to discover the philosopher’s stone: among them I recognised Tarnesier, he who made the nail half gold and half iron, which is in the museum of the duke of Tuscany; also a duke of Saxony, and a duke of the Medici, who knew how to make gold during their lives, but forgot the secret when they came to hell. “Is, then, the making of gold so heinous a sin?” inquired I of the devil. “No,” answered he, “but it is a grievous offence not to know how to make it, and that is the reason these gentlemen are here.” “And the others,” said I, “who never pretended to have made the discovery!” “Oh, they have not passed off copper for gold, as these have done.” “Let me see the devotees now,” said I to my conductor; “they are a species of humanity that will divert me.” “You are right; these are the fools of hell; it will be more instinctive to look at them than those of this apartment.” As we repassed the chambers we had visited, I heard some one exclaim, “Look at this poor devil, who knows not where to bestow himself; Curiosity is seeking a lodging for him.” “Signor,” said one of them to me, “remain here, with the devil’s permission, if you cannot be accommodated elsewhere.” I passed by without answer, not wishing to hold any intercourse with the damned. I found in this place monks and devotees who had hated one another so rancorously, that they had abused the most holy things of religion, and wasted the time of the church in giving vent to their malice, and afterwards would excuse their conduct in terms not used in the world but to express the most moral, sacred, and holy actions. “Ah, what hypocrites,” said the devil; “it would have been better for them, if they had delivered themselves openly to those pleasures, they concealed under the appearances which deceive the vulgar.”