Book III, 23: On the Alchymist

The patient Alchymist, whose vaine desire,
By Art, is to dissemble natures Fyre,
Imployes his labour, to transmute the old,
And baser substance into perfect Gold:
He laughs at unbeleevers, scornes and flouts
Illiterate Counsell; neither cares, nor doubts:
Vntill, at length, by his ingenious Itch,
Hee's brought most poore, in seeking to be rich:
Such is the Civillman; that by his even
And levell actions hopes to merit Heaven;
He thinks, by help of Nature, to acquire,
At least to counterfeit the Sacred Fire
Of saving Grace, to purge and to refresh
His base desires, and change his stone, to flesh:
He spurnes at Counsell; He derides and jerks
Those whining Spirits that renounce their works;
Till, too much trusting to their doing well,
In seeking Heav'n, they find the flames of hell,