Jonson, Ben · published 1616 · first performed or written 1610 (Annals) comedy · King's Men unassigned nearest T56 Magic, spells and conjuring · 480 words · other edition — not in the analysis
Marked words are the most distinguishing words of the nearest topic T56: magic, faustus, charms, charm, conjure, spirits, skill, ho, power, spells.
Yes, sir. And the philosophers vinegar? I. We shall have a salad. When do you make projection? Son, be no hasty, I exalt our medicine, By hanging him in balneo vaporoso; And giving him solution; then congeal him; And then dissolve him; then again congeal him; For look, how oft I iterate the work, So many times, I add unto his virtue. As, if at first, one ounce convert a hundred, After his second lose, he'll turn a thousand; His third solution, ten; his fourth, a hundred. After his fifth, a thousand thousand ounces Of any imperfect metal, into pure Silver, or gold, in all examinations, As good, as any of the natural mine. Get you your stuff here, against afternoon, Your brass, your pewter, and your andirons. Not those of iron: Yes. You may bring them, too. we'll change all metals. I believe you, in that. Then I may send my spits? Yes, and your racks. And dripping-pans, and pot-hangers, and hooks? Shall he not? If he please. To be an ass. How, sir! This gentleman, you must bear withal. I told you, he had no faith. And little hope, sir, But much less charity, should I gull myself. Why, what have you observed, sir, in our art, Seems so impossible? But your whole work, no more. That you should hatch gold in a furnace, sir, As they do eggs, in Egypt! Sir, do you Believe that eggs are hatched so? If I should? Why, I think that the greater miracle. No egg, but differs from a chicken, more, Than metals in themselves. That cannot be. The egg's ordained by nature, to that end: And is a chicken in potentia. The same we say of lead, and other metals, Which would be gold, if they had time. And that Our art doth further. ay, for 'twere absurd To think that nature, in the earth, bred gold Perfect, i' the instant. Something went before. There must be remote matter. ay, what is that? marry, we say— ay, now it heats: stand Father. Pound him to dust— It is, of the one part, A humid exhalation, which we call Materia liquida, or the unctuous water; On th'other part, a certain crass, and viscous Portion of earth; both which, concorporate, Do make the elementary matter of gold: Which is not, yet, propria materia, But common to all metals, and all stones. For, where it is forsaken of that moisture, And hath more dryness, it becomes a stone; Where it retains more of the humid fatness, It turns to sulphur, or to quicksilver: Who are the parents of all other metals. Nor can this remote matter, suddenly, Progress so from extreme, unto extreme, As to grow gold, and leap over all the means. Nature doth, first, beget th'imperfect; then Proceeds she to the perfect. Of that airy, And oily water, mercury is engendered;
seed 43: unassigned · seed 44: unassigned — topic numbers are assigned independently in each run; equal or different numbers say nothing by themselves
Original spelling (EEBO-TCP, unregularized)
Yes, ſir. And the philoſopers vinegar? I. We ſhall haue a ſallad. When doe you make proiection? Sonne, be no haſtie, I exalt our med'cine, By hanging him in balneo vaporoſo; And giuing him ſolution; then congeale him; And then diſſolue him; then againe congeale him; For looke, how oft I iterate the worke, So many times, I adde vnto his vertue. As, if at firſt, one ounce conuert a hundred, After his ſecond looſe, hee'll turne a thouſand; His third ſolution, ten; his fourth, a hundred. After his fifth, a thouſand thouſand ounces Of any imperfect mettall, into pure Siluer, or gold, in all examinations, As good, as any of the naturall mine. Get you your ſtuffe here, againſt after-noone, Your braſſe, your pewter, and your andirons. Not thoſe of iron: Yes. You may bring them, too. Wee'll change all mettall's. I beleeue you, in that. Then I may ſend my ſpits? Yes, and your racks. And dripping-pans, and pot-hangers, and hookes? Shall he not? If he pleaſe. To be an aſſe. How, ſir! This gent'man, you muſt beare withall. I told you, he had no faith. And little hope, ſir, But, much lesse charitie, should I gull my selfe. Why, what haue you obseru'd, sir, in our art, Seemes so impossible? But your whole worke, no more. That you should hatch gold in a fornace, sir, As they doe egges, in Egypt! Sir, doe you Beleeue that egges are hatch'd so? If I should? Why, I thinke that the greater miracle. No egge, but differs from a chicken, more, Then mettalls in themselues. That cannot be. The egg's ordain'd by nature, to that end: And is a chicken in potentia. The same we say of lead, and other mettalls, Which would be gold, if they had time. And that Our art doth furder. I, for 'twere absurd To thinke that nature, in the earth, bred gold Perfect, i' the instant. Something went before. There must be remote matter. I, what is that? Mary, we say— I, now it heats: stand Father. Pound him to dust— It is, of the one part, A humide exhalation, which we call Materia liquida, or the vnctuous water; On th'other part, a certaine crasse, and viscous Portion of earth; both which, concorporate, Doe make the elementarie matter of gold: Which is not, yet, propria materia, But commune to all mettalls, and all stones. For, where it is forsaken of that moysture, And hath more drynesse, it becomes a stone; Where it retaines more of the humid fatnesse, It turnes to sulphur, or to quick-siluer: Who are the parents of all other mettalls. Nor can this remote matter, sodainly, Progresse so from extreme, vnto extreme, As to grow gold, and leape ore all the meanes. Nature doth, first, beget th'imperfect; then Proceedes shee to the perfect. Of that ayrie, And oily water, mercury is engendred;