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Rh (She retires laughing, )

( enters from Garden.)

Give you good morrow Master Sylvester! How goes the great work? Still the furnace burns. You, if a man may, should th' elixir find, And yet the years go by, it 'scapes you still, But Age comes on you, and the fire burns low!

Aye, 'Vita Ignis, Corpus Lignum Est.'

Life is the fire and the fuel are we!

And as his shadow follows on a man,

So hangs the devil ever at his heels.

Better than he should follow, than should lead, Laodicean Mother Pomeroy,