University of Virginia Library

Scene III

Interior of MAGUS' cottage. Enter DEVIL.
DEVIL
O ye puissant spirits whose tried powers
The issue of this night hath fully prov'd,
Though your undoubted prowess hath descended
In dearth of other merriment to play
At hide and seek—come forth!

STEPHANIO
(Whispering from under his sacks.)
Is the coast clear?
Has he heel'd offward?

ANTONIO
(Half raising the lid of the chest.)
Is the sorcerer gone?

DEVIL
‘Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen.’

CAMPANO
What! did he beat a parley with thee, Amoret?
Or did ye sally forth, and nail his Ordnance
Ere it had vent?

BENEDICT
(Up in the chimney.)
The Lord deliver me!
That ever Benedict should come to this!

DEVIL
Out of your holes, ye Rats! uncavern ye,
White-liver'd conies!

ANTONIO
Why, thou art a Shrew.

DEVIL
Nay, give the Devil his due, I am not shrewish.

ANTONIO
Beshrew me, if thou art not. Where is Magus,
And his familiar?

DEVIL
Fear, like Drunkenness
Sees ever double—there was only one.
'Twas an old suitor whom I had discarded,
A miserly craving man, whose white hairs preach
Against his manners.
One who hath heap'd up coin until the means
Became the end of being; his hair was lac'd
With cobwebs, his sad calculating brows
Gather'd into a hundred dusty wrinkles.
A rusty key with many less ones dangled
Beside him, his parch'd person showed most like
A disembowell'd Mummy or dried Moth.
There was no moisture in his fissur'd lip.
He thrust his shrivell'd fingers into mine,
And mumbled from his dry and corky tongue
Some sentences which intimated Love,
But sounded like chaf'd parchment or the whistle
Of tight and corded Inexpressibles.
Ev'n such an one so sapless and so wither'd
I clos'd my door upon.

BENEDICT
(Groaning in the chimney)
Beate Martin!

ANTONIO
He calls for Betty Martin.

DEVIL
And he'll find her
For she is marvellously fond of soot.

PHARMACEUTUS
(Who has advanced into the stage with ANGULO.)
Did you speak verity, my oil of Roses?
Who shook the door so keenly?

ANGULO
Ay, good mistress,
Are we correct i' th'data?

DEVIL
Know you not
Philargyrus, to whose roof the sparrow's nest
Owes not a straw that lines it?

PHARMACEUTUS
Know him? Ay,
A weak, old patient with a thready pulse,
And dry unfruitful palm, which lacketh ever
The wholesome dew of perspiration.
But I much marvel how he knocked so briskly.

DEVIL
He was enrag'd we did not open to him:
And irritation often times doth nerve
The puny frame with artificial strength.
A child in wrath will cast a heavy stone,
Which in his tamer mood he scarce had mov'd.
But to the point! We tarry long in colloquy,
The cool and pearly grey of dawn hath crept
Into the sable bosom of the night.
It were fit time that I should call from ye
The man that hits my fancy.

PHARMACEUTUS
Wilt unveil then,
My liniment of Linseed, my Electuary,
My syrup of Poppies, eh? my flower of sulphur?

DEVIL
(Aside)
That's a home touch, though but a random hit.
My flower of sulphur quotha! by the Cabbala
A pretty flower of sulphur shall ye find me.
My thoughts begin to burn: a Devil's heat
Glows through me to the core: have at ye, Sirs!

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