Drug. Yes, Sir.

Sub. And those are your two sides?

Drug. Ay, Sir.

Sub. Make me your door, then, south; your broadside 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 loadstone
To draw in gallants that wear spurs: the rest
They'll seem to follow.

Face. That's a secret, Nab!

Why, how now, Abel! Is this true?

Drug. Good Captain,

What must I give?

Face. Nay, I'll not counsel thee.

[Aside to FACE.

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 giv'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 or 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.-

Why, now, you smoaky persecutor of nature!

[Exit Drugger.

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.

Sub. You are pleasant, Sir.

Dol. 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.

Sub. Face, go you, and shift.

Dol, you must presently make ready, too.
Dol. Why, what's the matter?

Sub. Oh, I did look for him

With the sun's rising: marvel he could sleep.
This is the day I am to perfect for him

The magisterium, our great work, the stone;
And yield it, made, into his hands of which
He has, this month, talked as he were possess'd.
And how he 's dealing pieces on 't away.
I see no end of his labours. He will make
Nature ashamed of her long sleep: when art,
Who 's but a step-dame, shall do more than she,
In her best love to mankind, ever could:
If his dream last, he 'll turn the age to gold.

SCENE II.

[Exit FACE.

[Exeunt.

The following exhibition of the character of a covetous sensualist is, perhaps, unequalled in the whole range of the drama. We cannot, however, show how thoroughly Jonson has worked up the idea;—his coarseness is unbounded:

Enter SIR EPICURE MAMMON, and SURLY.

Mam. Come on, Sir. Now, you set your foot on shore
In Novo Orbe; here's the rich Peru:

And there within, Sir, are the golden mines,
Great Solomon's Ophir! he was sailing to 't

Three years, but we have reach'd it in ten months,
This is the day, wherein, to all my friends,
I will pronounce the happy word, Be rich;
Where is my Subtle, there? Within, ho!

Face (within.) Sir, he 'll come to you by and by.

Mam. That is his fire-drake,

His Lungs, his Zephyrus, he that puffs his coals,

Till he firk nature up, in her own centre.

You are not faithful, Sir. This night, I 'll change
All that is metal, in my house, to gold:
And, early in the morning, will I send
To all the plumbers and the pewterers,

And buy their tin and lead up; and to Lothbury
For all the copper.

Sur. What, and turn that too?

Mam. Yes, and I'll purchase Devonshire and Cornwall, And make them perfect Indies! You admire now ?

Sur. No, faith.

Mam. But when you see th' effects of the Great Medicine, Of which one part projected on a hundred

Of Mercury, or Venus, or the Moon,
Shall turn it to as many of the Sun;

Nay, to a thousand, so ad infinitum :
You will believe me.

Sur. Yes, when I see 't, I will.

Mam. Do you think I fable with you? I assure you, He that has once the flower of the sun,

The perfect ruby, which we call elixir,

Not only can do that, but, by its virtue,
Can confer honour, love, respect, long life;
Give safety, valour, yea, and victory,

To whom he will. In eight and twenty days,
I'll make an old man of four score, a child.
Sur. No doubt; he 's that already.

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 th' affront. Is it, my Zephyrus, right?
Blushes the bolt's-head?

My only care is,

Where to get stuff enough now, to project on;
This town will not half serve me.
Face. No, Sir? buy

The covering off o' churches.

Mam. That's true.

Face. Yes.

Let them stand bare, as do their auditory;
Or cap them, new, with shingles.

Mam. No, good thatch:

Thatch will be light upon the rafters, Lungs.
Lungs, I will manumit thee from the furnace;
I will restore thee thy complexion, Puff,
Lost in the embers; and repair this brain,
Hurt with the fume o' the metals.

Face. I have blown, Sir,

Hard for your worship; thrown by many a coal,
When 'twas not beech; weigh'd those I put in, just
To keep your heat still even; these blear❜d eyes
Have wak'd to read your several colours, Sir,
Of the pale citron, the green lion, the crow,
The peacock's tail, the plumed swan.
Mam. And, lastly,

Thou hast descry'd the flower, the sanguis agni?
Face. Yes, Sir.

Mam. We will be brave, Puff, now we have the medicine.

My meat shall all come in, in Indian shells,

Dishes of agate set in gold, and studded
With emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths, and rubies.
The tongues of carps, dormice, and camel's heels
Boil'd in the spirit of Sol, and dissolv'd pearl,
Apicius' diet 'gainst the epilepsy:

And I will eat these broths with spoons of amber,
Headed with diamond and carbuncle.

My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, calver'd salmons,
Knots, godwits, lampreys: I myself will have
The beards of barbels served, instead of sallads;
Oil'd mushrooms; and the swelling unctuous paps
Of a fat pregnant sow, newly cut off,

Drest with an exquisite, and poignant sauce;
For which, I'll say unto my cook, There's gold,
Go forth, and be a knight.
Face. Sir, I'll go look
A little, how it heightens.
Mam. Do. My shirts

I'll have of taffeta-sarsnet, soft and light
As cobwebs; and for all my other raiment,
It shall be such as might provoke a Persian,
Were he to teach the world riot anew.
My gloves of fishes' and birds' skins, perfumed
With gums of paradise, and eastern air

CONCLUSION.

The master suddenly returns, and the whole imposture is at length discovered. The impudence of the Alchemist, and the lamentations of his dupes, are inimitably painted.

67. THE FALL OF THE MARQUIS OF MONTROSE.

CLARENDON.

[EDWARD HYDE, Earl of Clarendon, was the third son of Henry Hyde, a gentleman of good fortune, of Dinton, in Wiltshire. He was educated at Magdalen College, Oxford; became a student of the Middle Temple; and was returned to Parliament in 1640. Thenceforward his political career forms a considerable part of the history of his country. He was perhaps one of the most honest of the counsellors of Charles I., and the most virtuous in the profligate court of his son. After the Restoration he rose to the highest offices in the State; but his faithful services were eventually rewarded by disgrace and banishment. His 'History of the Great Rebellion' is one of those few books that are "for all time." The following extract has been justly called "one of the finest passages in Lord Clarendon's History:"]—

His design had always been to land in the Highlands of Scotland, before the winter season should be over, both for the safety of his embarkation, and that he might have time to draw those people together who, he knew, would be willing to repair to him, before it should be known at Edinburgh that he was landed in the kingdom. He had, by frequent messages, kept a constant correspondence with those principal heads of the clans who were most powerful in the Highlands, and were of known or unsuspected affection to the king, and advertised them of all his motions and designs. And by them acquainted those of the Lowlands of all his resolutions, who had promised, upon the first notice of his arrival, to resort with all their friends and followers to him.

Whether these men did really believe that their own strength would be sufficient to subdue their enemies, who were grown generally odious, or thought the bringing over troops of foreigners would lessen the numbers and affections of the natives, they did write very earnestly to the marquis, "to hasten his coming over with officers, arms, and ammunition; for which he should find hands enough:" and gave him notice,