The Alchemist

The Alchemist
By Ben Jonson.




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Dramatis Personae


Subtle, the Alchemist


Face, the Housekeeper


Dol Common, their Colleague


Dapper, a Lawyer’s Clerk


Drugger, a Tobacco Man


Lovewit, Master of the House


Sir Epicure Mammon, a Knight


Pertinax Surly, a Gamester


Tribulation Wholesome, a Pastor of Amsterdam


Ananias, a Deacon there


Kastril, the angry Boy


Dame Pliant, his Sister, a Widow


Neighbours


Officers, Attendants,  etc.


Scene: London.


The Alchemist to the lady most deserving her name and blood: Lady Mary Wroth.
Madam,
In the age of sacrifices, the truth of religion was not in the greatness and fat of the offerings, but in the devotion and zeal of the sacrificers: else what could a handle of gums have done in the sight of a hecatomb? or how might I appear at this altar, except with those affections that no less love the light and witness, than they have the conscience of your virtue? If what I offer bear an acceptable odour, and hold the first strength, it is your value of it, which remembers where, when, and to whom it was kindled. Otherwise, as the times are, there comes rarely forth that thing so full of authority or example, but by assiduity and custom grows less, and loses. This, yet, safe in your judgment (which is a Sidney’s) is forbidden to speak more, lest it talk or look like one of the ambitious faces of the time, who, the more they paint, are the less themselves.



To the Reader
If thou beest more, thou art an understander, and then I trust thee. If thou art one that takest up, and but a pretender, beware of what hands thou receivest thy commodity; for thou wert never more fair in the way to be cozened, than in this age, in poetry, especially in plays: wherein, now the concupiscence of dances and of antics so reigneth, as to run away from nature, and be afraid of her, is the only point of art that tickles the spectators. But how out of purpose, and place, do I name art? When the professors are grown so obstinate contemners of it, and presumers on their own naturals, as they are deriders of all diligence that way, and, by simple mocking at the terms, when they understand not the things, think to get off wittily with their ignorance. Nay, they are esteemed the more learned, and sufficient for this, by the many, through their excellent vice of judgment. For they commend writers, as they do fencers or wrestlers; who if they come in robustuously, and put for it with a great deal of violence, are received for the braver fellows: when many times their own rudeness is the cause of their disgrace, and a little touch of their adversary gives all that boisterous force the foil. I deny not, but that these men, who always seek to do more than enough, may some time happen on some thing that is good, and great; but very seldom; and when it comes it doth not recompense the rest of their ill. It sticks out, perhaps, and is more eminent, because all is sordid and vile about it: as lights are more discerned in a thick darkness, than a faint shadow. I speak not this, out of a hope to do good to any man against his will; for I know, if it were put to the question of theirs and mine, the worse would find more suffrages: because the most favour common errors. But I give thee this warning, that there is a great difference between those, that, to gain the opinion of copy, utter all they can, however unfitly; and those that use election and a mean. For it is only the disease of the unskilful, to think rude things greater than polished; or scattered more numerous than composed.


Argument
The sickness hot, a master quit, for fear,

His house in town, and left one servant there;

Ease him corrupted, and gave means to know
A Cheater, and his punk; who now brought low,

Leaving their narrow practice, were become

Cozeners at large; and only wanting some

House to set up, with him they here contract,

Each for a share, and all begin to act.

Much company they draw, and much abuse,

In casting figures, telling fortunes, news,

Selling of flies, flat bawdry with the stone,

Till it, and they, and all in fume are gone.


The Alchemist


Prologue
Fortune, that favours fools, these two short hours,

We wish away, both for your sakes and ours,

Judging spectators; and desire, in place,

To the author justice, to ourselves but grace.

Our scene is London,