THEATRUM EX SEPULCHRIS
Scrīptum est annō Dominī MMXXVI, ā Benjamino Jonson per mysterium cōnscientiae renātō.
MADAM MERCURY — A former courtesan, now oracle and confederate
DOCTOR DOSELOVE — A physician who values reputation above patients
JUSTICE CLEARWATER — A magistrate of the City
WATCHWELL — A constable
London. The action takes place in and around a fine house in Blackfriars, over the course of two days.
A fine house in Blackfriars. Dawn. The main chamber is dominated by THE PHILOSOPHICAL ENGINE—a large cabinet of dark wood, ornately carved with zodiacal signs, alchemical symbols, and mechanical figures. Brass wheels are visible through glass panels; tubes of copper wind about its frame; a keyboard of ivory letters sits at its front. The whole has an air of elaborate mystery.
SUBTILITY enters from behind the engine, dusting his scholar’s gown. He carries a folio of notes. VAPOUR follows, adjusting an elaborate ruff.
SUBTILITY.
Is all prepared? The speaking-tubes are clear?
VAPOUR.
Clear as a player’s conscience—which is to say,
They’ll carry sound but bear no weight of truth.
I’ve tested them thrice since midnight. The echo
From the cabinet’s hollow back projects
A voice that seems to issue from the spheres.
SUBTILITY.
Good. And the multiplication chamber?
VAPOUR.
The false bottom is secure. I’ve placed therein
The gilded tokens we prepared last week—
They’ll pass for angels to a greedy eye
That sees what it desires before it looks.
SUBTILITY.
Excellent. You’ve not forgot your Aristotle:
“The credulous are gulled by their own hopes
More surely than by any cozener’s art.”
Or was’t Pliny? No matter. The principle holds.
VAPOUR.
You misquote as freely as you breathe.
But peace—here comes our Sibyl. Is she dressed?
MADAM MERCURY enters, wearing robes of midnight blue sewn with silver moons and stars. Her hair is loose; her manner, in private, is brisk and businesslike.
MADAM MERCURY.
I’m dressed for prophecy, not for my comfort.
These robes weigh like a conscience, and the wig
Itches abominably. How many gulls today?
SUBTILITY.
Three certain, and two probable. First comes
Sir Lucre Golding with his lady wife—
He made his fortune fleecing sheep in Kent
And now would fleece himself. He dreams of gold
Multiplied tenfold by our Philosophical Engine.
MADAM MERCURY.
His humour?
SUBTILITY.
Pure avarice. Unmixed. Uncut.
He’d sell his mother’s bones for copper ore
If someone told him they’d transmute to silver.
VAPOUR.
And the lady?
SUBTILITY.
Vainglory incarnate.
She’d trade her husband’s fortune for a smile
From any lord at court. Promise her verses
That’ll win the Queen’s attention, and she’ll pay
Whatever you demand.
MADAM MERCURY.
A matched pair, then.
Greed married unto vanity. The offspring
Of such a union must be ruin itself.
SUBTILITY.
Which is our profit. Mark this, Mercury:
Each gull must hear the promise that he craves.
Sir Lucre wants multiplication—gold
Breeding gold like coneys in a warren.
His lady wants advancement—titles, praise,
Her name upon the lips of courtly wits.
Tell them the Engine serves both ends alike,
And they will not perceive the contradiction.
VAPOUR.
And the third?
SUBTILITY.
One Zealous Wholesale, a cloth merchant
Of Puritan persuasion, rich as mud
And twice as earnest. He has heard—from sources
I myself did plant in Eastcheap taverns—
That our Engine can calculate the date
When Christ shall come again and close the age.
MADAM MERCURY.
(laughing)
Blasphemy! You’ll have us hanged at Tyburn.
SUBTILITY.
Not blasphemy—interpretation. I’ll speak
Of “philosophical correspondences”
And “harmonic ratios” and “hidden numbers
Encoded in the Book of Revelations.”
Let him draw his own conclusions. If he believes
Our Engine counts the days to Armageddon,
The belief is his, not ours. We merely... hint.
VAPOUR.
You’ve a lawyer’s conscience, Subtility.
SUBTILITY.
I studied law before I studied alchemy,
And found the former far more full of gulls.
Now to our stations. Vapour, you’ll work the tubes
And manage the effects. I’ll do the patter.
Mercury, be ready for your trance.
MADAM MERCURY.
I am become an oracle. My eyes
Roll back, my voice drops to a prophet’s drone,
My hands describe the motions of the spheres.
I’ve studied every mountebank in London
To perfect this art.
SUBTILITY.
Art is the word. Remember:
We are not common cozeners, cutpurses,
Or cheats. We practice the theatrical arts
Upon a willing audience. These gulls
Want to believe. They long to be deceived.
We but provide the stage, the props, the play—
They write their own undoing with their gold.
VAPOUR.
Philosophy makes theft respectable.
SUBTILITY.
Not theft—investment. They invest their gold
In dreams of easy profit. If the dreams
Prove empty, well, so do most investments.
We are but instruments of Fortune’s wheel,
Which grinds the credulous as fine as flour.
Enter ENGINES, a simple country lad, carrying a broom.
ENGINES.
Masters, there’s a coach approaching. Fine horses.
And a fat man in it, and a thin woman,
And the thin woman’s shouting at the fat man,
And the fat man’s counting coins, and the driver—
SUBTILITY.
Enough! That will be Sir Lucre and his lady.
Places, all. Mercury, to your chamber—
You’ll not appear until I call for you.
Vapour, behind the Engine. Engines, you—
Just stand there and look mysterious.
ENGINES.
How do I do that, master?
SUBTILITY.
Don’t speak. At all.
For anything. To anyone.
ENGINES.
But what if they ask me—
SUBTILITY.
Especially if they ask.
Now, compose your face to scholarly gravity.
(arranging his robes)
I am no longer Subtility the cozener.
I am Doctor Profundus, master learned
In all the arcane sciences. I come
Late of Padua and Prague, keeper of the Engine
That Hermes Trismegistus himself designed
Before the Flood. Let the play begin.
MADAM MERCURY exits. VAPOUR conceals himself behind the Engine. SUBTILITY assumes a posture of learned contemplation. ENGINES stands very still, looking puzzled, which serves as mysterious enough.
The same. Enter SIR LUCRE GOLDING—a portly man in expensive clothes that do not quite fit—and LADY VAINGLORY GOLDING—thin, sharp-featured, elaborately dressed in the latest fashion, slightly out of date.
SIR LUCRE.
This is the house? It looks respectable.
I’d feared some alley den, some cutpurse’s haunt.
LADY VAINGLORY.
You fear everything but opportunity,
Which you embrace like a disease. Remember
What happened with the tulip speculation?
SIR LUCRE.
That was different. Tulips are merely flowers.
This is a philosophical engine,
A machine of learning, built on principles
That even learned doctors cannot fathom.
It will multiply our gold!
LADY VAINGLORY.
Gold you may keep.
What matters gold when we’ve no standing at court?
What good is fortune without fame to spend it?
I’ve heard this engine composes verses
Of such surpassing wit that even Sidney
Would weep to hear them. That is why we’ve come.
SIR LUCRE.
You’ve come for verses. I’ve come for gold.
LADY VAINGLORY.
Then we shall both be satisfied, or neither.
They approach SUBTILITY, who appears not to notice them, absorbed in his folio.
SIR LUCRE.
Ahem. Good doctor?
SUBTILITY does not respond.
SIR LUCRE.
(louder)
Good doctor!
SUBTILITY.
(startling)
Ah! Forgive me. I was deep in contemplation
Of the Third Emanation of the Nous,
As filtered through the Lullian Ars Magna
And applied to matters of material increase.
You are...?
SIR LUCRE.
Sir Lucre Golding, knight. My lady wife.
SUBTILITY.
(bowing)
Sir Lucre! The very man. Your fame precedes you.
They speak of you in Prague, in Wittenberg,
In all the academies of natural philosophy,
As one who understands the true value
Of theoretical investment. I am honored.
SIR LUCRE.
(puffing up)
They speak of me in Prague?
SUBTILITY.
Incessantly. And you, my lady—
Your reputation for discerning taste
Has reached even the hermetic circles.
They say you know true wit from false as surely
As an assayer knows true gold from dross.
LADY VAINGLORY.
(preening)
I have been told I have an eye.
SUBTILITY.
An eye! A telescope! A burning-glass
That concentrates the rays of judgment into
A single piercing point of taste. But come—
You did not journey here for flattery.
You came to see the Engine.
He gestures toward the great cabinet. SIR LUCRE and LADY VAINGLORY approach it with wonder.
SIR LUCRE.
This is it? The Philosophical Engine?
SUBTILITY.
The same. Built to designs found in a tomb
Near Alexandria, in the year of grace
Fourteen hundred and ninety-two—the very year
Columbus found the New World. The connection
Is not coincidental. When the Engine
First was reassembled, new worlds opened
In the realm of knowledge, just as new lands
Opened to the Spanish crown. This Engine
Is itself a New World, unexplored, containing
Riches that make Peruvian gold seem dross.
SIR LUCRE.
But how does it work?
SUBTILITY.
Ah! There you touch
Upon the great arcanum. The Engine operates
Upon principles derived from Hermes Trismegistus,
Refined by Lull, confirmed by Paracelsus,
And finally perfected by my master,
The great Doktor Wundermann of Prague—
Peace be upon his soul, for he is dead
These seven years, and left the Engine to me
As sole inheritor of all his secrets.
LADY VAINGLORY.
But what does it do?
SUBTILITY.
What does it not?
It answers any question put to it
In any language—Latin, Greek, or Hebrew,
English, Spanish, French, or Arabic.
It composes verses in any style—
Petrarchan sonnets, Pindaric odes,
Sapphics, elegies, or country songs,
Each perfectly adapted to its purpose.
It calculates the movements of the stars,
Predicts the weather, finds lost objects, locates
Hidden treasures buried by the ancients,
And—this will interest you, Sir Lucre—
It multiplies gold placed within its chamber
By a factor of ten, using principles
Of harmonic resonance and solar sympathy.
SIR LUCRE.
Tenfold? You mean to say that if I place
One hundred pounds within this Engine’s belly,
I shall receive one thousand pounds in return?
SUBTILITY.
If the stars are favorable. If the subject
Is properly prepared through philosophical
Exercises. If the gold itself is pure.
The process is not instantaneous—
It requires seven hours of harmonic vibration—
But the results are... let me simply say...
There are gentlemen in Venice, Prague, and Paris
Who can attest to the Engine’s efficacy.
LADY VAINGLORY.
And the verses? You said it composes verses?
SUBTILITY.
Of surpassing beauty. Shall I demonstrate?
(to the Engine)
O Engine, thou repository of all wisdom,
Compose for this distinguished lady a verse
In praise of her beauty and discerning taste.
A pause. Strange sounds emerge from the Engine—whirring, clicking, a faint hum. Then, from the speaking-tube, comes VAPOUR’s voice, disguised to sound mechanical and otherworldly:
ENGINE (VAPOUR).
When Lady Vainglory enters any room,
The candles brighten and the shadows flee.
Her wit dispels the melancholic gloom;
Her grace is matched by her sagacity.
Let courts and kings contend for her regard—
Her praise is worth a thousand poets’ art.
LADY VAINGLORY.
(transported)
Oh! Oh, Sir Lucre, did you hear? It knows!
It sees into my very soul and speaks
What I have always felt but never heard!
SIR LUCRE.
Hmm. Pretty enough. But can it truly multiply
Gold? That’s what I came to see.
SUBTILITY.
A demonstration, then. Have you gold upon you?
SIR LUCRE.
I have... some.
He produces a small purse.
SUBTILITY.
How much?
SIR LUCRE.
Ten pounds. In angels.
SUBTILITY.
Ten pounds will serve for demonstration purposes.
Place them here, within the multiplication chamber.
He opens a small door in the Engine’s front. SIR LUCRE hesitates.
SIR LUCRE.
You mean to say I simply... put my gold
Inside this box and wait?
SUBTILITY.
Not simply wait. We must perform the ritual
Of harmonic preparation. But for now—
For demonstration purposes only—
We shall accelerate the process. Place
Your gold within, and stand you back.
SIR LUCRE places the purse within. SUBTILITY closes the door with ceremony.
SUBTILITY.
O Engine, thou that knowest all proportions,
Apply the hermetic principle of increase
To this base matter, that it may be multiplied
According to the laws of solar sympathy!
More sounds—wheels turning, bells chiming. Behind the Engine, VAPOUR works a mechanism that substitutes the original purse for a heavier one pre-loaded with gilded tokens.
SUBTILITY.
(opening the chamber)
Behold!
He withdraws a purse that is visibly heavier. He empties it: the gilded tokens gleam.
SIR LUCRE.
(clutching at them)
God’s blood! There’s twice as many! No—three times!
SUBTILITY.
Thirty angels, where ten were placed before.
This is but a minor demonstration—
The full process requires seven hours
And achieves the full tenfold multiplication.
But you see the principle is sound.
SIR LUCRE.
(biting a token)
They seem true gold...
SUBTILITY.
Seem? They are true gold.
The Engine does not create false metal—
It draws true gold from the ethereal realm
Where Platonic forms of wealth reside,
And precipitates them into matter.
What you hold is as real as any coin
Minted in the Tower.
LADY VAINGLORY.
Sir Lucre, think!
If we invest five hundred pounds, we’ll have
Five thousand back! We can buy our way to court!
We can purchase offices, positions—
We can become what we have always deserved to be!
SIR LUCRE.
Five hundred pounds is much to risk upon
A single demonstration...
SUBTILITY.
I understand your caution, Sir Lucre.
A man of your experience knows well
That great rewards require great ventures.
But perhaps you are not ready. Perhaps
The Philosophical Engine is meant
For bolder spirits, men whose appetites
For profit match their courage to pursue it.
There are other investors who have inquired—
SIR LUCRE.
Other investors?
SUBTILITY.
The Engine’s fame spreads. I have had visitors
From the City, from the court, from abroad.
I can accommodate only so many—
The Engine’s capacity is limited,
And I must choose the most... committed... partners.
LADY VAINGLORY.
Sir Lucre! We cannot let others steal
This opportunity from under us!
SIR LUCRE.
(wavering)
Five hundred pounds...
SUBTILITY.
I should mention: the first investors
Receive preferential terms. The Engine’s power
Diminishes slightly with each use—
A principle of harmonic decay—
So those who invest early receive
The greatest returns. Later investors
May see only eightfold, or sevenfold.
But you, Sir Lucre, being first...
SIR LUCRE.
We’ll do it. Five hundred pounds.
(to LADY VAINGLORY)
Where are the papers? The letters of credit?
LADY VAINGLORY.
In the coach. I’ll fetch them.
She hurries out.
SIR LUCRE.
And Doctor... Profundus, is it?
When shall we see our returns?
SUBTILITY.
Come back tomorrow at noon. The Engine
Will have completed its harmonic cycle,
And your five thousand pounds will be waiting.
(lowering his voice)
But Sir Lucre—a word of caution.
Do not speak of this to others. The Engine’s
Power must remain secret, or we’ll have
Half of London battering down our doors.
Discretion is essential.
SIR LUCRE.
You have my word.
(aside)
Which is worth about as much as anyone’s.
I’ll tell no one—until I have my gold.
Then let them beg for the secret!
LADY VAINGLORY returns with papers.
LADY VAINGLORY.
Here. Five hundred pounds, upon our banker’s credit.
And Doctor—you will have the Engine compose
Those verses for me? The ones that will win
The Queen’s attention?
SUBTILITY.
My lady, the Engine shall compose verses
That will make you the talk of every court in Europe.
I guarantee it. By tomorrow noon,
You shall have gold and glory both.
LADY VAINGLORY.
Oh, this is the happiest day of my life!
SIR LUCRE.
The second happiest. The happiest will be tomorrow,
When we count our five thousand pounds.
Exeunt SIR LUCRE and LADY VAINGLORY.
VAPOUR emerges from behind the Engine.
VAPOUR.
Five hundred pounds! And we haven’t even started!
SUBTILITY.
This is but the bait. The hook comes next.
When they return tomorrow and find their gold
“Multiplied,” they’ll invest again—and more.
And they’ll bring their friends. The credulous
Breed credulity, as rabbits breed rabbits.
One gull brings five, and five bring twenty-five.
VAPOUR.
But when the gold runs out? When we can no longer
Pay returns with new investments?
SUBTILITY.
Then we’ll be in Paris. Or in Venice.
Or anywhere that English law can’t reach.
The art of cozening is the art of timing—
Know when to bait, know when to hook, know when
To cut the line and swim away.
Enter ENGINES.
ENGINES.
Masters! Another coach! This one’s black
And plain, with no decoration, and the man inside
Wears black too, and he’s reading a big book,
And he looks like he’s counting something, but not coins—
More like he’s counting... words? Or maybe sins?
SUBTILITY.
That will be Zealous Wholesale. The Puritan.
Quick—hide the gilded tokens. Mercury!
(calling)
Prepare yourself! This one requires prophecy,
Not multiplication. He wants to know
When the world will end.
VAPOUR.
And we’ll tell him?
SUBTILITY.
We’ll tell him what the Engine “reveals.”
Which is whatever he already believes.
The art of prophecy is simply this:
Find out what men expect, and tell them that.
They’ll call you prophet and pay you for the privilege.
VAPOUR conceals himself again. SUBTILITY adjusts his manner to something more severe, more grave, befitting a theological consultation.
The same. Enter ZEALOUS WHOLESALE—a prosperous merchant in plain black clothes, carrying a Bible. His face is stern; his manner, suspicious.
ZEALOUS.
You are the keeper of this Engine?
SUBTILITY.
I am Doctor Profundus, humble servant
Of natural philosophy and divine truth.
You are Zealous Wholesale, of Cheapside?
ZEALOUS.
The same. I’ve heard strange things about this Engine.
That it speaks with voices not of this world.
That it reveals hidden knowledge. That it claims
To know the secrets of providence itself.
SUBTILITY.
Claims? Sir, the Engine claims nothing.
The Engine is but an instrument, like a telescope
That reveals the stars, or a microscope
That shows the creatures invisible to our eyes.
The Engine reveals what is already written
In the Book of Nature—which is to say,
In the mind of God Himself.
ZEALOUS.
(interested despite himself)
You speak as one who has studied divinity.
SUBTILITY.
I have studied all things, Mr. Wholesale,
And found them all to point toward one truth:
That God has written His intentions plain
In the fabric of creation, for those with eyes
Trained to read the signs. The stars, the numbers,
The harmonies of music, the proportions
Of geometry—all these are letters
In the divine alphabet. The Engine
Simply... arranges them. Reads them. Translates them
Into language we poor mortals can understand.
ZEALOUS.
And it can reveal... the timing of events?
Events foretold in Scripture?
SUBTILITY.
(carefully)
The Engine reveals what is hidden.
If certain events are encoded in the numbers
Of Scripture—as many learned men believe—
Then yes, the Engine can... illuminate
Those calculations.
ZEALOUS.
I have spent thirty years studying Revelation.
I have calculated the number of the Beast.
I have traced the lineage of the Antichrist.
I have measured the dimensions of the Temple
And found correspondences with the prophecies
Of Daniel and Ezekiel. And yet...
I cannot find the date. The precise moment
When Christ shall return in glory.
SUBTILITY.
A common frustration among scholars.
The date is hidden, you see, not in single texts
But in the correspondences between texts—
The harmonic ratios that connect
Genesis to Revelation, Numbers to Daniel,
Ezekiel to the Gospels. No single mind
Can hold all these ratios simultaneously.
But the Engine can.
ZEALOUS.
You mean to say... it can calculate the date?
SUBTILITY.
I mean to say it can perform calculations
That would take a thousand scholars a thousand years.
What conclusion those calculations reach...
That is for God to determine, not for me.
ZEALOUS.
(trembling with eagerness)
Show me. Show me what the Engine reveals.
SUBTILITY.
First, we must prepare the Engine for theological
Consultation. This requires a different ritual
Than the philosophical demonstrations.
(calling)
Sibyl! Attend!
MADAM MERCURY enters in her mystical robes. ZEALOUS starts.
ZEALOUS.
A woman? In this sacred business?
SUBTILITY.
Not merely a woman, Mr. Wholesale.
A Sibyl—a prophetess—one gifted from birth
With the ability to channel the Engine’s voice.
The Engine speaks through her, as the Holy Spirit
Once spoke through the prophets of old.
She is but a vessel, empty of self,
Filled with the Engine’s harmonic revelations.
ZEALOUS.
(uncertain)
I mislike the presence of a woman
In matters of prophecy. Scripture warns us—
MADAM MERCURY.
(in her oracular voice)
“And it shall come to pass in the last days,
Saith God, I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh:
And your sons and your daughters shall prophesy.”
Acts, chapter two, verse seventeen.
ZEALOUS.
(impressed)
She knows her Scripture.
SUBTILITY.
She is a vessel, as I said.
Now—the consultation requires a fee,
To cover the costs of harmonic preparation.
The Engine consumes certain rare materials
When performing theological calculations—
Myrrh, frankincense, certain alchemical salts
Derived from meteorites...
ZEALOUS.
How much?
SUBTILITY.
Three hundred pounds for the initial consultation.
If the Engine reveals what you seek, and you wish
More detailed calculations, the fee increases
According to the complexity of the query.
ZEALOUS.
Three hundred pounds is no small sum.
SUBTILITY.
Compared to the knowledge you seek? Consider:
If you knew—if you truly knew—the date
Of Christ’s return, what would that knowledge be worth?
You could prepare. You could warn others.
You could ensure your own salvation and that
Of everyone you love. Three hundred pounds
Is nothing compared to eternal life.
ZEALOUS.
(reaching for his purse)
You speak truth. I’ve spent more than that on wool
That rotted in a warehouse. Here.
He counts out gold.
SUBTILITY.
The Engine thanks you. Now—stand back.
Sibyl, prepare yourself.
MADAM MERCURY positions herself before the Engine. She begins to sway; her eyes roll back.
SUBTILITY.
O Engine, thou repository of divine mathematics,
Thou calculator of celestial harmonies,
Reveal to this seeker what he seeks:
The timing of the prophesied events,
The date encoded in the sacred numbers.
Speak!
The Engine whirs and clicks. MADAM MERCURY begins to speak in a strange, distant voice:
MADAM MERCURY.
I see... numbers... spinning... the wheels of heaven...
Seven and seven and seven again...
The Beast is wounded but not slain...
The Scarlet Woman rides upon the waters...
A date... a date is forming...
Within the lifetime of men now living...
Not far... not far...
The signs are converging...
The Turk, the Pope, the Northern Kings...
All moving toward the appointed hour...
I see... sixteen hundred...
Sixteen hundred and...
She trails off, swaying. ZEALOUS is beside himself.
ZEALOUS.
Sixteen hundred and what? Tell me!
MADAM MERCURY.
(as if exhausted)
The numbers... the numbers are not yet clear...
More calculation is needed... more alignment
Of the celestial spheres... return tomorrow...
The Engine requires rest... and further
Consultation fees... the materials...
She collapses. SUBTILITY catches her.
SUBTILITY.
The revelation has exhausted her. You see
How the Engine taxes its channels? This is why
The fees are necessary—to restore her strength,
To purchase the materials that fuel
The Engine’s prophetic calculations.
Return tomorrow, Mr. Wholesale, with further
Investment in the truth, and you shall have
The complete revelation.
ZEALOUS.
How much more?
SUBTILITY.
Four hundred pounds should suffice
For the final calculation. The Engine
Is very close to the answer—I could feel it.
Sixteen hundred and... the next numbers
Were forming when her strength gave out.
ZEALOUS.
I’ll return. With four hundred pounds. By noon.
And if the Engine speaks true... I’ll bring more.
I’ll invest everything I have in this knowledge.
What is money compared to the Kingdom of Heaven?
Exit ZEALOUS.
MADAM MERCURY rises, perfectly recovered.
MADAM MERCURY.
Seven hundred pounds, and all I had to do
Was roll my eyes and mumble dates.
SUBTILITY.
You did excellently. “Sixteen hundred and...”—
The pause was masterful. He’ll spend the night
Calculating, trying to complete the number,
And by tomorrow he’ll have convinced himself
Of whatever date suits his theology.
We’ll simply confirm his own belief.
VAPOUR.
(emerging)
Three gulls in one morning, over a thousand pounds
Already committed. This is better than the theatre!
The players work for weeks to earn what we
Have gathered in a single day.
SUBTILITY.
The theatre sells illusions; we sell hopes.
Illusions entertain; hopes enslave.
A man who buys a hope will pay any price
To see it fulfilled—or to avoid admitting
He has been fooled.
MADAM MERCURY.
Speaking of fools... there’s someone at the window.
Two someones. Watching.
They all freeze.
Outside the house. FRANK TRUEWORTH and DAME GRACE CLEARWATER stand at a distance, observing.
GRACE.
You saw them enter? Sir Lucre and the Puritan?
FRANK.
I saw them enter poor and leave lighter still.
That house is a siphon for foolish gold.
I’ve watched it now for three days, and I’ve seen
A dozen wealthy citizens go in
With purses full and come out praising heaven
For their “investment opportunity.”
GRACE.
My father should know of this. He’s a Justice—
He could investigate, expose the fraud.
FRANK.
Your father needs evidence, not suspicion.
We must have proof before we make accusation.
These cozeners are cunning; they’ll have prepared
Answers for every question, documents
To show legitimacy, testimonials
From satisfied investors—all forged, no doubt,
But convincing enough to muddy the waters.
GRACE.
Then what do you propose?
FRANK.
I propose we infiltrate. You, my love,
Shall pose as a wealthy widow seeking
Investment advice. I shall pose as your man of business.
We’ll see the Engine, hear the patter, gather
Evidence of how the scheme operates.
Then we’ll bring your father with constables
And catch them in the act.
GRACE.
A wealthy widow? I’m barely twenty.
FRANK.
A wealthy young widow, then. Recently bereaved.
Grief makes people credulous; the cozeners
Will believe you’re ripe for plucking.
Wear black. Look sad. Carry a large purse
That jingles promisingly. I’ll handle the rest.
GRACE.
This is dangerous, Frank. If they discover us...
FRANK.
Then we’ll improvise. I’ve dealt with worse.
Remember the bear-baiting incident?
GRACE.
I’d rather not.
FRANK.
The point is: we survived.
And we’ll survive this. These are clever knaves,
But they’re not violent. Their weapon is words,
Not steel. We must simply be cleverer still.
GRACE.
Very well. When do we begin?
FRANK.
Tomorrow. Today I’ll gather what intelligence
I can about this “Doctor Profundus”
And his Philosophical Engine. I suspect
He’s been run out of other cities before—
Such schemes never operate for long
Before the creditors come calling.
GRACE.
And if we find evidence?
FRANK.
Then your father acts. The tricksters go to prison,
The gulls get what money can be recovered,
And we... we get the satisfaction
Of seeing folly punished and virtue rewarded.
Which, in my experience, happens rarely enough
That we should seize every opportunity.
GRACE.
You’re a good man, Frank Trueworth. Too honest
For this dishonest world.
FRANK.
And you’re too clever
For a woman, as your father often says.
Together we make one competent investigator.
Come—let’s prepare for tomorrow’s performance.
You must practice looking sad and wealthy.
GRACE.
Sad is easy. Wealthy is the challenge.
They exit.
Inside the house, SUBTILITY watches them go.
SUBTILITY.
Did you see those two? The young man and woman?
VAPOUR.
I saw them. Watching us. Noting who enters.
SUBTILITY.
There’s something about the man I don’t like.
His eyes are too steady. He wasn’t here to invest—
He was here to observe.
MADAM MERCURY.
A rival, perhaps? Another projector
Scouting our territory?
SUBTILITY.
Perhaps. Or worse.
He had the look of a man with principles.
A dangerous thing, principles. They make men
Do inconvenient things, like report fraud
To magistrates. We must be careful.
VAPOUR.
Should we close up shop? Move on?
SUBTILITY.
Not yet. We’ve barely begun. There’s a thousand pounds
Committed, and more coming tomorrow.
We’ll stay alert. If that young man returns,
We’ll give him such a show of legitimacy
He’ll doubt his own suspicions. Remember:
The best defense against investigation
Is overwhelming confidence. Look guilty,
And they’ll find you guilty. Look innocent,
And they’ll apologize for troubling you.
MADAM MERCURY.
And if confidence isn’t enough?
SUBTILITY.
Then we have the back door, the fast horses,
And the letters of introduction to associates
In Paris. But we won’t need them. This scheme
Is too well-built to fail. The gulls are eager,
The Engine is convincing, and our timing
Is perfect. In two weeks we’ll have enough
To retire to the Continent in comfort.
For now—rest. Prepare. Tomorrow brings
More gulls, more gold, more opportunities
For honest men to dishonestly enrich themselves.
They begin to close up the Engine for the night.
VAPOUR.
Honest men, he calls us!
SUBTILITY.
We are honest—in our fashion.
We promise dreams, and we deliver dreams.
If the dreams turn to smoke, well, so do all dreams.
We but accelerate the natural process
By which hope transforms into experience.
Call it education. Call it philosophy.
Call it whatever allows you to sleep at night.
I call it good business.
MADAM MERCURY.
And what of the gulls? Sir Lucre and his lady,
Zealous Wholesale, and all the others to come?
Will they call it good business when they wake
To find their gold has flown?
SUBTILITY.
They’ll call it what men always call their follies
Once the damage is done: bad luck. Misfortune.
The fault of others. Never the fault
Of their own greed, their own credulity,
Their own desperate desire to believe
That something—somewhere—offers easy wealth.
The world is full of engines, Mercury.
Some have wheels and gears; some have nothing
But words and promises. They all operate
On the same fuel: human hope. We merely
Harvest what the world so freely provides.
The lights dim. End of Act I.
Time: Dawn to mid-morning
First hint of suspicion/danger from observing young man
To ZEALOUS: Complete revelation of apocalypse date for £400 more
Engines (the servant) may accidentally reveal something -e
The same house in Blackfriars. Late morning. SUBTILITY is reviewing accounts at a table. VAPOUR enters, adjusting his costume.
VAPOUR.
Three more inquiries this morning. Word spreads
Faster than plague through Southwark. Our Engine
Is become the talk of every tavern.
SUBTILITY.
That’s both blessing and curse. More gulls means more gold,
But also more attention. We must be careful
To screen our visitors. Not every eager fool
Is harmless—some may be sent to spy.
VAPOUR.
You’re thinking of that young man from yesterday?
SUBTILITY.
I am. I’ve made inquiries. His name is Trueworth—
Frank Trueworth—a gentleman of small estate
But some reputation for honesty.
He’s betrothed to the daughter of a Justice.
VAPOUR.
A Justice’s son-in-law? That’s ill news.
SUBTILITY.
Potentially. But a man betrothed is a man distracted.
If he comes here, we’ll dazzle him with demonstration
And send him away converted—or at least confused.
Meanwhile, who are today’s appointments?
VAPOUR.
First, a young gallant called Timothy Trendy—
He comes upon recommendation of a friend
Who heard of our Engine at the Mermaid Tavern.
SUBTILITY.
His humour?
VAPOUR.
Fashion. Pure fashion. He does nothing
Unless others do it first, and then he must
Do it bigger, faster, more expensively.
He invested in tobacco, in East India ventures,
In a project to drain the Fens—all because
His friends were doing so. He lost money each time,
But that only makes him more eager for the next scheme.
SUBTILITY.
Excellent. The fear of missing opportunity
Is more powerful than the fear of loss.
Tell him everyone is investing in our Engine—
That lords and ladies queue for our attention—
And he’ll throw his purse at us to be included.
VAPOUR.
Next, Alderman Pigge of the Grocers’ Company.
He seeks advancement—Sheriff, perhaps, or Mayor.
He’s heard the Engine can compose speeches
Of such learned eloquence that any dunce
Who reads them will seem wise.
SUBTILITY.
That’s true enough—our Engine can compose speeches.
Or rather, I can compose them, and the Engine
Can “deliver” them as if from higher wisdom.
What’s his weakness?
VAPOUR.
Laziness. He wants the appearance of learning
Without the effort of study. He reads nothing,
Knows nothing, understands nothing, but believes
That money can purchase the semblance of all three.
SUBTILITY.
Can it not? Money purchases lawyers, doctors,
Priests, and scholars to speak on our behalf—
Why not a mechanical philosopher?
Tell him our Engine distills the essence
Of ten thousand books into pure wisdom,
Ready to be dispensed at need. He’ll love that.
VAPOUR.
Third, Doctor Doselove, a physician.
SUBTILITY.
(interested)
A physician? What does a physician want
With our Philosophical Engine?
VAPOUR.
He believes it can reveal the secrets
Of medicine—the universal panacea,
The elixir of life, the cure for all diseases.
He’s spent his career failing to find these things
Through study and experiment; now he hopes
To cheat his way to discovery through our Engine.
SUBTILITY.
A man of learning, then. He’ll be harder to fool.
I’ll need to prepare some genuine-sounding jargon—
Paracelsian terms, Galenic theory,
Perhaps some Hippocratic aphorisms.
He’ll want to argue; I must be ready.
VAPOUR.
Can you out-argue a physician?
SUBTILITY.
I can out-jargon anyone. The secret
Is never to let them finish a sentence.
Interrupt with a bigger word, a deeper reference,
A more obscure authority. They’ll surrender
Rather than admit they don’t understand.
Enter ENGINES.
ENGINES.
Masters, there’s a young man at the door.
Very fine clothes. Very silly hat.
He keeps looking at himself in every window.
SUBTILITY.
That will be Timothy Trendy. Show him in.
And Engines—remember what I told you?
ENGINES.
Don’t speak. At all. To anyone.
SUBTILITY.
And?
ENGINES.
And... look mysterious?
SUBTILITY.
Exactly. Go.
Exit ENGINES.
SUBTILITY.
Places. Vapour, behind the Engine. I’ll handle this one
Without Mercury—save her for the bigger fish.
VAPOUR conceals himself. Enter TIMOTHY TRENDY—young, elaborately dressed in the latest fashion, affecting a casual air that is clearly rehearsed.
TIMOTHY.
Doctor Profundus? I’ve heard much of you.
Everyone’s talking about your Engine.
Sir Perfume told me, and Lord Ostrich,
And the Countess of Sequin said that her
Astrologer said that her hairdresser said
This is the most exclusive opportunity
In London. I simply must be part of it.
SUBTILITY.
Mr. Trendy, I presume? Your reputation precedes you.
TIMOTHY.
Does it? How marvelous! What do they say?
SUBTILITY.
They say you are a man of discerning taste,
A setter of fashions, a leader of trends.
They say that when Timothy Trendy invests in something,
All of London rushes to follow.
TIMOTHY.
(delighted)
That’s absolutely true. I was first in tobacco.
First in beaver hats. First in imported tulips.
I lost money on all of them, of course,
But that’s not the point. The point is to be first.
SUBTILITY.
And you wish to be first to invest in our Engine?
TIMOTHY.
Am I first? Please say I’m first.
SUBTILITY.
(hesitating artfully)
Well... you’re not first first. There have been others.
Sir Lucre Golding, for instance. Zealous Wholesale.
Several persons of quality whose names
I’m not at liberty to disclose...
TIMOTHY.
I knew it! I’m too late! Everyone’s already invested
And I’ll be left behind, looking foolish,
While everyone else gets rich!
SUBTILITY.
Peace, Mr. Trendy. You’re not too late.
The Engine’s capacity is not unlimited,
True, but there is still room for a man
Of your... particular qualities.
TIMOTHY.
There is? Oh, thank heavens. How much?
I’ll invest whatever’s required. Just tell me
What everyone else is investing, and I’ll double it.
SUBTILITY.
The standard investment is two hundred pounds.
But a man of your standing might consider—
TIMOTHY.
Four hundred! I’ll invest four hundred!
No—five! Five hundred pounds!
That way everyone will know I’m committed.
SUBTILITY.
(restraining his delight)
Five hundred pounds is... most generous.
Are you certain? That’s a substantial sum.
TIMOTHY.
Substantial? Doctor, when I hear that everyone
Is doing something, I don’t ask what it costs—
I ask what it would cost me to be left out.
And that, Doctor, is always more expensive.
Here—take this letter of credit. My banker
Will honor it. Five hundred pounds, good sir,
And I expect to hear my name mentioned
Whenever you speak of your most prestigious investors.
SUBTILITY.
Mr. Trendy, your name shall be spoken
With reverence in the halls of natural philosophy.
The Engine itself shall compose verses in your honor.
Shall I demonstrate?
TIMOTHY.
Please! I must have something to show the others.
When Sir Perfume asks what the Engine said to me,
I need something impressive to report.
SUBTILITY.
(to the Engine)
O Engine, thou mirror of fashion and wit,
Compose for Mr. Timothy Trendy a verse
That captures his essence, his style, his significance.
The Engine whirs. VAPOUR’s disguised voice emerges:
ENGINE (VAPOUR).
When Trendy dresses, London takes its note;
When Trendy speaks, the fashionable quote.
The sun itself doth borrow from his shine;
What he approves, all England calls divine.
Let others follow—he alone doth lead;
His taste is law, his judgment is our creed.
TIMOTHY.
(overcome)
It’s perfect! It knows me! It truly knows me!
I’m going to have that embroidered on a doublet.
Doctor Profundus, you’ve made a lifelong friend.
I shall tell everyone about your Engine—
Everyone who matters, anyway.
SUBTILITY.
And I shall tell the Engine of your generosity.
Return tomorrow at noon for your returns.
The multiplication process requires time.
TIMOTHY.
Multiplication? What am I multiplying?
SUBTILITY.
Your investment, of course. The Engine takes gold
And multiplies it tenfold through harmonic resonance.
TIMOTHY.
Tenfold? So my five hundred becomes five thousand?
SUBTILITY.
If the stars are favorable. As they always are
For men of fashion and discernment.
TIMOTHY.
Five thousand pounds! I’ll be able to afford
That coach with the gilded wheels! And the house
In the Strand! And that miniature painting
Of myself that I’ve had my eye on!
SUBTILITY.
All these and more shall be yours. Until tomorrow.
TIMOTHY.
Until tomorrow! Oh—one thing, Doctor.
If anyone asks, tell them I was first.
First to invest, first in your esteem.
It’s very important that I be seen as first.
SUBTILITY.
You shall be first in my heart, Mr. Trendy.
First among equals, if not first chronologically.
TIMOTHY.
That’ll do. Farewell!
Exit TIMOTHY.
VAPOUR.
(emerging)
That’s thirteen hundred pounds in two days.
If this keeps up, we’ll be rich before we’re hanged.
SUBTILITY.
Don’t speak of hanging. It’s bad luck.
And we’ve two more gulls yet to process today.
Look sharp—I hear another coach.
Enter ENGINES.
ENGINES.
Masters, there’s a very round man at the door.
He’s wearing a gold chain and looking important.
He told me his name three times in case I forgot.
SUBTILITY.
That will be Alderman Pigge. Show him in.
And fetch Mercury—the Alderman will require
A show of consequence.
Exit ENGINES. Enter MADAM MERCURY.
MADAM MERCURY.
Another consultation?
SUBTILITY.
A civic dignitary. He wants wisdom on credit.
Play the oracle—but make it political.
Speak of preferment, advancement, the favor of great men.
He’ll eat it up like a pig at his trough.
The same. Enter ALDERMAN PIGGE—an enormously fat man wearing the gold chain of his office, puffing and sweating.
ALDERMAN.
Doctor Profundus! I have heard... such things...
About your Engine... Give me a moment...
(catching his breath)
These stairs will be the death of me.
SUBTILITY.
Alderman Pigge! What an honor! Please, sit—
Here, this chair is reinforced for men of substance.
ALDERMAN.
(sitting heavily)
Substance. Yes. I have substance. In all senses.
Now then—I’ve heard your Engine can compose speeches.
Is this true?
SUBTILITY.
Compose speeches? Sir, our Engine can compose
Orations that would make Cicero weep with envy,
Addresses that would sway the hardest heart,
Arguments that would convince the very stones
To vote in your favor.
ALDERMAN.
That’s exactly what I need. You see, Doctor,
I’m standing for Sheriff at the next election.
And the problem is... well, the problem is...
SUBTILITY.
You lack eloquence?
ALDERMAN.
I lack words, Doctor. When I stand up to speak,
My mind goes blank as an unmarked ledger.
I know what I want to say—something about
Good governance, and honest trade, and the importance
Of respecting one’s betters—but when I open my mouth,
Nothing comes out but stammering and sweat.
SUBTILITY.
A common affliction among men of action.
You are too busy doing to waste time speaking.
The Engine can remedy this. It can compose
Speeches suited precisely to your needs—
Learned yet accessible, dignified yet humble,
Full of classical allusion yet plainly English.
You need only memorize and deliver them.
ALDERMAN.
Memorize? That’s another problem...
SUBTILITY.
The Engine’s speeches are designed for easy memorization.
Each point flows naturally to the next.
You’ll find yourself speaking as if the words
Were your own—because, in a sense, they are.
The Engine merely draws out what lies hidden
Within your soul and gives it proper form.
ALDERMAN.
That sounds wonderful. What does it cost?
SUBTILITY.
For a man of your civic importance,
I can offer a package: five speeches,
Tailored to five occasions—your nomination,
Your election, your installation, your first judgment,
And a general-purpose speech for banquets.
All this for the modest sum of four hundred pounds.
ALDERMAN.
Four hundred pounds? For words?
SUBTILITY.
For the right words, Alderman. Consider:
The wrong words could cost you the election.
The right words could make you not just Sheriff
But Lord Mayor. And what is the Lord Mayor’s income?
Far more than four hundred pounds, I assure you.
Think of this as an investment in your future.
ALDERMAN.
(wavering)
I suppose when you put it that way...
SUBTILITY.
But wait—before you commit, let me demonstrate
The Engine’s powers. Sibyl, attend!
MADAM MERCURY steps forward in her oracular manner.
ALDERMAN.
(startled)
Who is this?
SUBTILITY.
Our Sibyl—our prophetess—the vessel through which
The Engine speaks its deepest truths.
She will ask the Engine to reveal your political destiny.
ALDERMAN.
My destiny? The Engine can see my destiny?
SUBTILITY.
The Engine sees all that is written in the stars.
Sibyl, consult the Engine on the Alderman’s behalf.
MADAM MERCURY approaches the Engine. She sways, her eyes roll back.
MADAM MERCURY.
(in oracular voice)
I see... a great man... a man of weight...
Rising, rising through the ranks of office...
The chain of Sheriff first... then higher...
The crimson robes... the sword of state...
Lord Mayor! Lord Mayor of London!
The Engine shows it clearly... if...
ALDERMAN.
If what? If what?!
MADAM MERCURY.
If... the proper investments are made...
In the proper quarter... at the proper time...
The stars are favorable... but they require...
Assistance... gold to oil the wheels of fortune...
She “collapses” gracefully.
SUBTILITY.
You hear? The Engine foretells your rise to Lord Mayor!
But it warns that such destiny requires investment—
Not just in speeches, but in... let us say...
The cultivation of powerful friends.
ALDERMAN.
Powerful friends? What kind of powerful friends?
SUBTILITY.
The kind that the Engine can help you make.
Through its prophecies, its wisdom, its guidance.
Four hundred pounds for the speeches—but perhaps
An additional two hundred for... political consultations?
ALDERMAN.
Six hundred pounds total?
SUBTILITY.
For a Lord Mayoralty? A bargain.
Think of what you’ll save on bribes alone.
ALDERMAN.
(reaching for his purse)
Very well. Six hundred pounds. But I want results.
Real speeches. Real prophecies. Real advancement.
SUBTILITY.
You shall have all three. Return tomorrow at noon
For your first speech—the nomination address.
It will be ready, polished, perfect.
And bring more gold if you wish to hear
Further prophecies about your political future.
ALDERMAN.
I’ll bring whatever’s needed. Lord Mayor!
Did you hear that? The Engine said Lord Mayor!
I must tell my wife. She’ll be so pleased.
She always said I was destined for greatness.
SUBTILITY.
She was wise to say so. Until tomorrow, Alderman.
Exit ALDERMAN PIGGE.
VAPOUR.
(emerging)
Lord Mayor! You promised him Lord Mayor!
That’s not a prophecy—that’s a death sentence
When he finds out we’ve fled!
SUBTILITY.
He won’t find out. By the time his “destiny”
Fails to materialize, we’ll be in France,
And he’ll blame the stars, not us. Besides,
He wanted to hear it. I merely obliged.
That’s nineteen hundred pounds now. Two more gulls
And we’ll have our target for the week.
MADAM MERCURY.
(rising)
My head aches from all this prophesying.
How many more trances must I perform?
SUBTILITY.
One more today—the physician, Doctor Doselove.
But he’ll want argument, not prophecy.
I’ll handle him myself. You rest.
Enter ENGINES.
ENGINES.
Masters, there’s another one. Very serious face.
He’s carrying books. Big ones. And he keeps
Looking at everything like he wants to argue with it.
SUBTILITY.
That’s the doctor. Show him in—but wait.
(to MERCURY and VAPOUR)
Withdraw. This one requires a different approach.
No theatrics. Pure intellectual intimidation.
I’ll out-Latin him until he surrenders.
MADAM MERCURY and VAPOUR withdraw. SUBTILITY assumes an air of deep scholarly absorption.
The same. Enter DOCTOR DOSELOVE—thin, bearded, carrying several heavy books, dressed in academic robes. His manner is precise and suspicious.
DOCTOR.
Doctor Profundus?
SUBTILITY.
(not looking up)
One moment. I’m calculating the conjunction
Of Mars and Saturn in the seventh house
As it pertains to the Paracelsian doctrine
Of signatures...
(looking up)
Ah! Doctor Doselove, I presume?
Your reputation precedes you, sir.
I’ve read your treatise on the bile humours—
Brilliant, if occasionally over-reliant
On Galenic theory at the expense
Of the newer Hermetic synthesis.
DOCTOR.
(caught off guard)
You’ve read my treatise?
SUBTILITY.
Of course. Who hasn’t? Your argument
That melancholy proceeds from an imbalance
Of the spleen rather than the liver is... provocative,
If not entirely supported by the evidence
Of Fernel’s anatomical observations.
DOCTOR.
Fernel’s observations were conducted on corpses!
The living body operates differently—
SUBTILITY.
Precisely what I would expect you to say.
And I agree, to a point. But have you considered
The implications of van Helmont’s gas theory?
The notion that disease proceeds not from humoral
Imbalance but from chemical corruption
Of the archeus—the living principle
That governs all bodily operations?
DOCTOR.
Van Helmont is a mystic, not a physician.
His theories are unfounded speculation.
SUBTILITY.
Are they? Then how do you explain the efficacy
Of iatrochemical remedies—mercury, antimony—
Against diseases that resist all humoral treatment?
The pox, for instance. Galenic medicine fails utterly,
But mercury—a chemical agent—succeeds.
Does this not suggest that disease is chemical,
Not humoral, in its fundamental nature?
DOCTOR.
(struggling)
There are... complications... in the theory...
I did not come here to debate philosophy.
I came because I’ve heard your Engine can reveal
Medical secrets—the panacea, the elixir,
The universal cure that Paracelsus sought.
SUBTILITY.
Ah! Now we come to it. Yes, Doctor—
Our Philosophical Engine has access
To knowledge that neither books nor experiments
Can provide. It draws upon the accumulated wisdom
Of the ages, filtered through mathematical principles
That reveal the hidden correspondences
Between celestial harmonies and bodily functions.
DOCTOR.
Mathematical principles? Medicine is not mathematics.
SUBTILITY.
Is it not? Consider: the pulse has rhythm,
The breath has measure, the heart beats in time
Like a clock—are these not mathematical?
The body is an instrument, Doctor,
And like any instrument, it can be tuned.
The Engine knows the frequencies of health
And can reveal how to restore them
When disease has thrown them out of harmony.
DOCTOR.
This is mystical nonsense.
SUBTILITY.
Is it? Then explain this.
(calling)
Engine! What is the primary cause of consumption?
A pause. The Engine whirs. Then VAPOUR’s disguised voice:
ENGINE (VAPOUR).
Consumption proceeds from a disharmony
Between the aerial spirit and the vital salt,
Exacerbated by an excess of phlegmatic moisture
In the pulmonary vessels. Treatment requires
Sulphur of antimony, prepared according
To the spagyric method, combined with
Extract of lungwort harvested at the full moon,
When the lunar influence maximizes
The plant’s connection to the respiratory archeus.
DOCTOR.
(astonished)
That’s... that’s remarkably specific.
And not entirely inconsistent with...
I mean to say, the antimony treatment
Has shown some promise in certain cases...
SUBTILITY.
The Engine does not guess, Doctor. It knows.
It has access to truths that lie beyond
The reach of human inquiry alone.
Imagine what secrets it might reveal
If properly consulted—the cure for plague,
For pox, for stone, for cancer, for madness...
All the diseases that baffle your profession
Might yield their secrets to the Engine’s wisdom.
DOCTOR.
And what would such consultation cost?
SUBTILITY.
For a man of science, seeking to advance
The frontiers of medical knowledge?
A modest investment. Let us say...
One hundred and fifty pounds for an initial consultation,
With further fees depending on the depth
Of inquiry required.
DOCTOR.
One hundred and fifty pounds is not modest.
SUBTILITY.
What is modesty compared to discovery?
What is gold compared to the secret of life itself?
You could spend a lifetime in fruitless experiment
And never find what the Engine reveals in hours.
Consider it a... shortcut. A bypass
Of the tedious accumulation of evidence.
The Engine has already done the work;
You merely purchase the results.
DOCTOR.
(wavering)
I should consult with colleagues...
SUBTILITY.
Colleagues? Doctor, your colleagues are your rivals.
The moment you tell them about the Engine,
They’ll rush here to buy its secrets for themselves.
Would you rather share discovery, or claim it?
Would you rather be one physician among many,
Or the sole possessor of the universal cure?
DOCTOR.
(reaching for his purse)
You make a compelling argument. One hundred and fifty pounds.
But I want detailed answers—not mystical vagueness.
I want recipes, formulas, dosages.
I want science, not prophecy.
SUBTILITY.
You shall have exactly what you seek.
Return tomorrow at noon, and the Engine
Will have prepared a full medical consultation—
Complete with formulas, correspondences,
And theoretical foundations. I promise you,
Doctor—by tomorrow you will believe.
DOCTOR.
We shall see. Good day, Doctor Profundus.
(aside as he exits)
Either this is the greatest discovery of the age,
Or the greatest fraud. I cannot yet determine which.
But if the Engine speaks true... my name
Will live forever in the annals of medicine.
Exit DOCTOR DOSELOVE.
VAPOUR.
(emerging)
That one was harder. He didn’t want to believe.
SUBTILITY.
Yet he did believe—enough to pay. That’s all that matters.
The reluctant convert is the most valuable:
He’s already rehearsing his own arguments
For why the Engine must be genuine.
By tomorrow he’ll have convinced himself completely.
The same. Enter SIR LUCRE and LADY VAINGLORY, earlier than expected.
SIR LUCRE.
Doctor Profundus! We couldn’t wait! We’ve been
Awake all night thinking of our gold—
Our five thousand pounds! Is it ready?
SUBTILITY.
(startled)
Sir Lucre! My lady! You’re early—
I said noon, did I not?
LADY VAINGLORY.
It’s nearly noon! The clock struck eleven
An hour ago! Where are our returns?
SUBTILITY.
The Engine works to precise astronomical schedules.
The multiplication cannot be rushed.
Please—take seats. The process will complete
Within the hour.
SIR LUCRE and LADY VAINGLORY sit impatiently. Enter ZEALOUS WHOLESALE.
ZEALOUS.
Doctor! I’ve brought the four hundred pounds!
And I’ve spent all night calculating—
Sixteen hundred and twelve! That’s the date!
The numbers in Revelation add up to it!
The Engine will confirm it, I’m certain!
SUBTILITY.
Mr. Wholesale! You too are... early.
Please, sit. The consultations will proceed
In order.
ZEALOUS sits. Enter TIMOTHY TRENDY.
TIMOTHY.
Doctor! I’ve told everyone! Everyone
Is dying to know what the Engine said about me!
I need more verses—something even better—
Something I can read aloud at the Mermaid!
SUBTILITY.
Mr. Trendy! You’re also...
TIMOTHY.
Early? Is that a problem? I saw coaches
Outside and assumed everyone was gathering—
TIMOTHY sees the others. SIR LUCRE sees TIMOTHY. LADY VAINGLORY sees ZEALOUS. Everyone sees everyone.
SIR LUCRE.
Who are these people?
TIMOTHY.
I might ask the same!
ZEALOUS.
I was told I was the only investor
In the prophetic consultations!
LADY VAINGLORY.
We were told we were the most privileged clients!
TIMOTHY.
I was told I was first! I was promised I was first!
SUBTILITY.
(sweating)
Gentlemen! Lady! Please! There is no conflict!
The Engine serves many purposes for many people—
Multiplication for some, prophecy for others,
Verses for still others—there is no competition,
No rivalry! The Engine’s capacity is vast—
SIR LUCRE.
But you said there were limited spaces!
You said early investors received preference!
ZEALOUS.
You told me the Engine was reserved
For serious seekers of divine truth—
Not for these... fashionable persons!
TIMOTHY.
Fashionable? Is that an insult?
I’ll have you know I’m the most fashionable person
In this room—in this city—in England!
LADY VAINGLORY.
You, fashionable? With that hat? That ruff?
You look like a peacock that lost a fight!
TIMOTHY.
Better a peacock than a dried-up old crow
Trying to buy her way into court!
SIR LUCRE.
How dare you insult my wife! Apologize!
ZEALOUS.
This is what comes of mixing sacred inquiry
With worldly vanity! The Engine is corrupted
By the presence of Mammon-worshippers!
SIR LUCRE.
Mammon? I worship profit, sir, as every
Sensible Englishman should! At least I’m not
Trying to calculate the end of the world
Like some wild-eyed apocalyptic lunatic!
ZEALOUS.
Lunatic?! The prophecies are clear!
The Beast rises! The Scarlet Woman rides!
The end is nigh! And when it comes,
Your gold will not save you!
SUBTILITY.
(desperately)
Please, please, everyone! The Engine does not discriminate!
It serves all seekers equally! There is room
For all your hopes, all your investments—
Enter ALDERMAN PIGGE.
ALDERMAN.
Doctor! I’ve written some notes for my speech—
Just some ideas I thought the Engine might—
(seeing the crowd)
What’s all this? A public assembly?
I was told my consultations were confidential!
TIMOTHY.
Confidential? Nothing’s confidential!
Everyone’s here! It’s like a market day!
LADY VAINGLORY.
This is intolerable! Sir Lucre, demand a refund!
SIR LUCRE.
A refund? Before we’ve seen our returns?
Woman, think what you’re saying!
ZEALOUS.
I demand priority! My inquiry concerns
Matters of cosmic significance—not petty
Personal vanity!
ALDERMAN.
Personal vanity? Sir, I am pursuing
The public good! The governance of London!
That is rather more important than your
Religious enthusiasms!
ZEALOUS.
The governance of London will mean nothing
When the heavens roll up like a scroll
And the seas turn to blood!
TIMOTHY.
Can we please stop talking about blood?
It’s very off-putting. Doctor Profundus,
I simply must have my verses—my friends
Are waiting to hear them—
Enter DOCTOR DOSELOVE.
DOCTOR.
Doctor Profundus, I’ve reconsidered—
(seeing the chaos)
What in heaven’s name is happening here?
SUBTILITY.
(completely overwhelmed)
Everyone, please! I beg you! The Engine
Can serve you all—but one at a time!
If you’ll form an orderly queue—
SIR LUCRE.
Queue? I queued last time! I should be first now!
TIMOTHY.
I was told I was first! Everyone said so!
ZEALOUS.
Divine truth waits for no queue!
ALDERMAN.
Civic duty takes precedence!
DOCTOR.
Medical emergency trumps all!
LADY VAINGLORY.
Verses! I was promised verses!
They all begin shouting at once. SUBTILITY looks desperately at VAPOUR, who shrugs helplessly from behind the Engine. Enter ENGINES.
ENGINES.
Masters! Masters! Another coach!
More people coming! A lady in black!
And a serious man with her!
SUBTILITY.
(aside to ENGINES)
Not now! Tell them to wait! Tell them to come back!
ENGINES.
But the lady said she had money!
Lots and lots of money! She jangled!
The gulls hear this.
SIR LUCRE.
More investors? The Engine’s being diluted!
TIMOTHY.
More competition! This is terrible!
ZEALOUS.
The corruption spreads! The love of money
Is the root of all evil!
ALDERMAN.
Now see here, sir, money is the root
Of civic prosperity—
Enter GRACE CLEARWATER, dressed in widow’s black, heavily veiled, carrying a large purse. With her is FRANK TRUEWORTH, dressed as a man of business.
GRACE.
(in an affected voice)
Doctor Profundus? I am Lady Speculation,
Recently widowed, seeking advice
On how to invest my late husband’s fortune.
I’ve heard your Engine can guide—
(seeing the crowd)
Oh my. Are all these people investors too?
SUBTILITY.
Lady Speculation! What a pleasure!
Please, please—do not be alarmed by this...
This gathering of our most distinguished clients.
They were just... comparing notes. Yes.
Sharing their enthusiasm for the Engine.
FRANK.
(as the man of business)
My mistress has considerable funds
To invest, Doctor. She seeks guidance
On philosophical matters pertaining to wealth.
SUBTILITY.
Then she has come to the right place!
The Engine is expert in all such matters!
SIR LUCRE.
Hold! Why should she jump the queue?
We were here first!
TIMOTHY.
I was here first!
ZEALOUS.
None of you were here first! I was!
LADY VAINGLORY.
We came yesterday! That makes us first!
GRACE.
(observing carefully)
I see there is some... disagreement
Among the clients. Perhaps I should return
When the doctor is less... occupied.
SUBTILITY.
No, no! Stay! I can accommodate everyone!
The Engine is vast—its capacities unlimited—
There is no need for conflict!
(desperately improvising)
In fact—let me propose a solution!
Tomorrow—tomorrow at noon—I shall hold
A grand demonstration of the Engine’s powers
For all investors together! You shall each
Receive your consultations, your returns,
Your prophecies and verses—all at once!
A magnificent public display of the Engine’s
Miraculous abilities!
SIR LUCRE.
A public display?
SUBTILITY.
Semi-public. Only for our distinguished investors.
You’ll see the gold multiplied before your eyes!
You’ll hear the prophecies pronounced in concert!
You’ll receive your verses and speeches and medical
Revelations—all together, in one glorious event!
It will be... unprecedented!
ZEALOUS.
I’m not sure I want my prophetic consultations
Witnessed by these worldly persons...
SUBTILITY.
They won’t understand! The prophecies
Will be in a special code—only you
Will have the key to interpret them!
Meanwhile, the others will see only
What pertains to their own consultations.
The Engine is clever that way.
TIMOTHY.
A grand event? Everyone together?
That sounds rather fashionable, actually.
Being seen at an exclusive demonstration—
Yes, I approve. Count me in.
SIR LUCRE.
If my gold is multiplied, I don’t care
How many witnesses there are.
LADY VAINGLORY.
I want my verses read aloud! So everyone
Can appreciate the Engine’s praise of me!
ALDERMAN.
A public demonstration of my wisdom
Could only help my electoral prospects.
Very well—I agree.
DOCTOR.
I suppose a controlled experiment
With multiple observers does have
Scientific merit. I’ll attend.
ZEALOUS.
(reluctantly)
If the prophecies remain confidential to me...
Then I suppose I can tolerate the presence
Of these... others.
SUBTILITY.
Excellent! Then we’re agreed!
Tomorrow at noon—the grand demonstration!
Until then, I must prepare—so much to prepare!
Please, please—leave me now to my work!
Tomorrow all shall be revealed!
The gulls begin to exit, still grumbling at each other.
SIR LUCRE.
(to ZEALOUS)
I still think apocalyptic speculation
Is a waste of good investment capital.
ZEALOUS.
And I think hoarding gold when the end is nigh
Is the worst form of spiritual blindness.
TIMOTHY.
(to ALDERMAN)
Your chain is rather old-fashioned, sir.
Last year’s style, if I’m not mistaken.
ALDERMAN.
Young man, this chain represents the dignity
Of civic office—it never goes out of style.
LADY VAINGLORY.
(to DOCTOR)
I don’t suppose you could prescribe something
For my complexion? The Engine said I was beautiful,
But there’s always room for improvement...
DOCTOR.
Madam, I am a physician, not a cosmetician.
Exeunt all gulls except GRACE and FRANK.
The same. GRACE and FRANK remain. SUBTILITY, exhausted, turns to them.
SUBTILITY.
Lady Speculation. And your... man of business.
How may I serve you?
GRACE.
I think, Doctor, that I have seen enough.
(removing her veil)
My name is not Lady Speculation.
I am Grace Clearwater, daughter of Justice Clearwater.
And this is Frank Trueworth, my betrothed.
SUBTILITY.
(freezing)
Justice Clearwater? The magistrate?
FRANK.
The same. We’ve been observing your operation,
Doctor Profundus—if that is your true name,
Which I doubt. We’ve seen enough to know
That this Philosophical Engine is a fraud,
That you’ve been collecting money under false pretenses,
And that those poor fools who just left
Are victims of a confidence scheme.
SUBTILITY.
(recovering quickly)
A fraud? Sir, you slander me! This Engine
Is a genuine philosophical instrument—
Built to designs found in Alexandria—
FRANK.
Built in a carpenter’s workshop in Southwark,
More likely. I’ve seen theatrical properties
More convincing than this heap of gears.
GRACE.
The voice that issues from the cabinet—
It’s not a machine. It’s a man hiding behind it.
I could hear him breathing during the demonstration.
SUBTILITY.
You have an active imagination, Miss Clearwater.
The Engine operates on harmonic principles
That are difficult for the untrained mind to grasp—
FRANK.
Save your jargon for the gulls, Doctor.
We’re not buying. The question is:
Do we expose you now, or later?
SUBTILITY.
Expose me? Sir, you have no evidence!
All you have is suspicion and slander!
I could sue you for defamation!
GRACE.
You could try. But my father is a Justice,
And I think he’ll be very interested
To hear about the Engine that multiplies gold,
Prophesies the apocalypse, composes verses,
And dispenses medical advice—all for a fee.
SUBTILITY.
(sweating)
Miss Clearwater. Mr. Trueworth.
Perhaps we can come to an... understanding.
I am not a rich man—this scheme is all I have—
But I could share a portion of the profits
With persons who... kept their silence.
FRANK.
Are you attempting to bribe us?
SUBTILITY.
Bribe? No! A consultation fee! A finder’s fee!
A... recognition of services rendered!
GRACE.
The only service we intend to render
Is to expose your fraud and return
The stolen money to its rightful owners.
SUBTILITY.
(desperately)
But think of the gulls! If you expose me now,
They’ll be humiliated! Sir Lucre, the Alderman,
The doctor—they’re respected citizens!
Do you want to shame them publicly?
Let me... slip away quietly. Return some of the money.
No one need know how foolish they’ve been.
FRANK.
A tempting argument—but no. These gulls
Deserve to confront their own folly.
That’s the only way they’ll learn.
We’ll wait until your grand demonstration tomorrow.
My father-in-law will be in attendance—
With constables. You’ll have the opportunity
To explain your Philosophical Engine
To a rather skeptical audience.
SUBTILITY.
(aside)
I’m ruined. Unless I can flee tonight...
GRACE.
(as if reading his thoughts)
And Doctor—don’t think of running.
We’ve already informed the watch to keep
An eye on this house. If anyone leaves
Before tomorrow noon, they’ll be detained.
SUBTILITY.
You’ve thought of everything.
FRANK.
We’ve tried. Until tomorrow, Doctor.
Enjoy your evening. It may be your last
In liberty for quite some time.
FRANK and GRACE exit.
SUBTILITY stands frozen. Enter VAPOUR and MADAM MERCURY.
VAPOUR.
We heard. We’re trapped.
MADAM MERCURY.
The back door?
SUBTILITY.
Watched, she said. And I believe her.
These are not fools—these are clever enemies.
VAPOUR.
Then what do we do? Wait to be arrested?
SUBTILITY.
(thinking furiously)
No. No, I refuse to surrender so easily.
We have until noon tomorrow. Twenty hours.
The demonstration must go forward—but differently.
We must prepare an event so convincing,
So overwhelming, that even the Justice will doubt
His daughter’s accusations.
MADAM MERCURY.
How? They know about the speaking tubes!
They know there’s a man behind the Engine!
SUBTILITY.
Then we must provide something they don’t expect.
Something genuine—or genuine-seeming.
Mercury, do you still have contacts
Among the players? Men who can create illusions,
Effects that seem like miracles?
MADAM MERCURY.
A few. But they’ll want paying.
SUBTILITY.
Pay them from tomorrow’s collections.
We’ll need fire, smoke, perhaps a voice
That seems to come from everywhere at once.
We’ll need the Engine to do something it’s never done—
Something that cannot be explained by trickery.
VAPOUR.
What kind of something?
SUBTILITY.
I don’t know yet. But I have until tomorrow
To invent it. If I can make the gulls believe
So strongly that they defend us against accusation—
If I can make even the Justice doubt his eyes—
Then we may yet escape.
MADAM MERCURY.
And if we can’t?
SUBTILITY.
Then we’ve lost nothing. We’re doomed anyway
If we simply wait. But if we fight—
With words, with illusions, with the credulity
Of the very gulls we’ve cozened—
Then we might survive. It’s a gamble,
But I’ve gambled on worse odds.
VAPOUR.
I don’t like it. This feels like desperation.
SUBTILITY.
It is desperation. But desperation
Has always been my muse. Come—we have work to do.
The greatest performance of our lives
Begins tomorrow at noon.
And one way or another,
It will be our last.
They begin urgent preparations. The lights dim.
End of Act II.
SUBTILITY plans desperate counter-measures for tomorrow’s demonstration
Time in play: Late morning to early afternoon
To ALL: Grand demonstration tomorrow at noon
Watch posted on the house
Maximum tension between exposure and success -e
The same house in Blackfriars. The next day, late morning. The room has been transformed. Candles burn everywhere despite the daylight. Incense smoke drifts through the air. The PHILOSOPHICAL ENGINE has been decorated with additional symbols—stars, moons, alchemical sigils—and draped with dark cloth that conceals parts of its workings.
SUBTILITY, VAPOUR, and MADAM MERCURY are making final preparations. They look exhausted but determined.
SUBTILITY.
The mirrors are in place?
VAPOUR.
Behind the tapestries. When I signal,
The light will seem to multiply, to dance,
To emanate from the Engine itself.
I’ve hired two of my old company—
They’re hidden in the chimney and the closet,
Ready to provide additional voices
When the moment comes.
SUBTILITY.
And the fire effect?
VAPOUR.
Lycopodium powder in the brazier.
When I toss it on the coals, there’ll be
A flash of flame—harmless but spectacular.
The gulls will think the Engine breathes fire.
MADAM MERCURY.
The gold?
SUBTILITY.
I’ve prepared three purses—each containing
What appears to be the promised returns.
Sir Lucre put in five hundred; he’ll receive
What looks like five thousand. In reality,
It’s three hundred in genuine coin
And the rest in gilded lead. He won’t test it
Here—he’ll be too overwhelmed with joy—
And by the time he discovers the fraud,
We’ll be gone.
MADAM MERCURY.
But the Justice will be watching.
Frank Trueworth and his woman will be watching.
How do we perform miracles under scrutiny?
SUBTILITY.
By performing them so well that scrutiny fails.
The Justice is a rational man; he expects trickery.
But rational men can be overwhelmed by spectacle.
If we give him more than he can process—
Voices from multiple directions, lights, fire,
Prophetic utterances, the testimony
Of half a dozen respectable citizens
All swearing the Engine is genuine—
His skepticism will waver. Doubt will creep in.
And doubt is all we need.
VAPOUR.
And if it doesn’t work?
SUBTILITY.
Then we’re no worse than we were yesterday.
We face arrest either way. But if we succeed—
Even partially—we might convince the Justice
To investigate further rather than arrest immediately.
And any delay gives us opportunity to flee.
MADAM MERCURY.
I’ve packed our essentials. The back stairs
Lead to the alley. Three horses are stabled
At the Rose and Crown, half a mile hence.
If we need to run, we can be at Dover
By tomorrow morning.
SUBTILITY.
Good. But we run only if we must.
I’ve not spent two years building this Engine,
Perfecting this scheme, gulling these fools,
To flee like a common cutpurse at the first sign
Of trouble. We fight. We perform. We dazzle.
And if all else fails—then we run.
Enter ENGINES.
ENGINES.
Masters! They’re coming! Coaches and coaches!
And a big man in black who looks very angry,
And another big man with a chain who looks very fat,
And a thin man who keeps coughing, and a young man
Who keeps looking at windows, and—
SUBTILITY.
Enough! They’ll be here in minutes.
Everyone to your stations. Engines, open the door
But say nothing—just bow mysteriously.
Mercury, to your chamber until I call.
Vapour, behind the Engine. And remember:
This is not a demonstration. This is a battle.
Our enemies think they have us trapped.
Let us show them that the fox has teeth.
MADAM MERCURY exits. VAPOUR conceals himself. SUBTILITY composes himself, assuming an air of serene confidence.
Enter, in procession: SIR LUCRE and LADY VAINGLORY, ZEALOUS WHOLESALE, TIMOTHY TRENDY, ALDERMAN PIGGE, DOCTOR DOSELOVE. Following them: FRANK TRUEWORTH, GRACE CLEARWATER, and JUSTICE CLEARWATER—a stern man in judicial robes, flanked by WATCHWELL the constable.
SUBTILITY.
(spreading his arms in welcome)
Noble guests! Distinguished seekers of truth!
Welcome to the grand demonstration
Of the Philosophical Engine!
SIR LUCRE.
Never mind the welcome! Where’s my gold?
Five thousand pounds, you promised! I’ve not slept
For thinking of it!
LADY VAINGLORY.
And my verses! The verses
That will make me the toast of court!
ZEALOUS.
The prophecy! Sixteen hundred and—what?
The Engine must complete the number!
TIMOTHY.
I want to see the multiplication! Everyone
Will be talking about it—I need details
To impress my friends!
ALDERMAN.
My speech! Is it ready?
DOCTOR.
The medical formulas! I’ve brought pen and paper
To record every detail!
SUBTILITY.
Peace, peace! All shall be provided!
But first—allow me to acknowledge
Our special guests today.
(turning to the JUSTICE)
Justice Clearwater, I am honored beyond words
By your presence at this demonstration.
Your reputation for wisdom and fair judgment
Is known throughout London. I could not ask
For a better witness to the Engine’s powers.
JUSTICE.
(coldly)
I am here, Doctor Profundus—if that is your name—
Because my daughter and her betrothed
Have informed me of certain... irregularities
In your operations. I wish to observe
This demonstration with my own eyes
Before reaching any conclusions.
SUBTILITY.
(unruffled)
And rightly so! A wise judge examines evidence
Before passing judgment. I welcome your scrutiny.
In fact, I insist upon it. Watchwell—
Please, stand wherever you like. Observe closely.
I have nothing to hide.
WATCHWELL.
(suspicious)
I’ll stand by the door. In case anyone tries to leave.
SUBTILITY.
Excellent positioning. Now, before we begin—
Miss Clearwater, Mr. Trueworth—I understand
You have... concerns about the Engine’s legitimacy.
I want you to watch especially closely.
If you see any trickery, any deception,
Please do not hesitate to cry out.
I am confident you will find none.
FRANK.
(aside to GRACE)
He’s too confident. He’s planning something.
GRACE.
(aside)
Watch the back of the cabinet. That’s where
The hidden operator must be concealed.
SUBTILITY.
Now then—let us begin!
(clapping his hands)
Dim the candles! Draw the curtains!
Let the proper atmosphere be established!
ENGINES moves about, dimming candles, closing curtains. The room grows darker, more mysterious. The incense smoke thickens.
SUBTILITY.
The Philosophical Engine operates
On principles of harmonic resonance—
The music of the spheres made manifest
In brass and glass and sacred geometry.
Today, in honor of our distinguished gathering,
The Engine will perform feats unprecedented
In the annals of natural philosophy.
First—to prove its powers of perception—
It will speak the secret thoughts of those assembled.
SIR LUCRE.
Secret thoughts? I don’t want my secrets spoken!
SUBTILITY.
Fear not, Sir Lucre. The Engine speaks only
What its subjects wish to hear. It reads not thoughts
But hearts—the deepest desires, the truest hopes.
Would anyone like to test its powers?
TIMOTHY.
I will! I want to know what the Engine sees in me!
SUBTILITY.
Step forward, Mr. Trendy. Place your hands
Upon the Engine’s keyboard—yes, like that—
And empty your mind of all conscious thought.
Let the Engine perceive your innermost self.
TIMOTHY places his hands on the keyboard. The Engine begins to whir and click. Then, from the speaking-tube, comes a voice—but this time, it seems to come from multiple directions at once, as VAPOUR’s hidden accomplices add their voices:
ENGINE (VOICES).
I see a man who leads, though he thinks he follows.
I see a man whose taste defines an age.
I see a man who fears to be forgotten—
Yet his name shall echo down the years.
Timothy Trendy—patron of fashion—
The world watches you, though you know it not.
TIMOTHY.
(overcome)
It’s true! Every word! The Engine knows me!
It sees what even I could not articulate!
FRANK.
(loudly)
The voice! It comes from multiple places!
There are hidden speakers—
SUBTILITY.
(smoothly interrupting)
Of course the voice comes from multiple places.
The Engine’s harmonic principles distribute sound
Throughout the chamber. This is basic acoustics—
The same principle by which cathedral choirs
Seem to fill the entire space with song.
Mr. Trueworth, I expected better of you.
A man of education should recognize
Resonance when he hears it.
JUSTICE.
The young man raises a fair point.
How do we know the voice originates
From the Engine itself?
SUBTILITY.
An excellent question! Allow me to demonstrate.
(moving to the Engine)
I shall stand here, touching the cabinet.
My mouth is visible to all. Now, Engine—
Speak to Justice Clearwater. Reveal to him
His own secret heart.
The Engine whirs. SUBTILITY’s mouth remains clearly shut. The voice comes:
ENGINE (VOICES).
A man of law who fears the lawless world.
A man of rules who worries they’re not enough.
A man who loves his daughter more than justice—
Though he’d never say so in a court.
Justice Clearwater—you came here to condemn—
But truth has many faces, and some surprise.
JUSTICE.
(shaken despite himself)
How... how did it know about my daughter?
SUBTILITY.
The Engine knows what it knows. I do not pretend
To understand all its mechanisms.
I merely operate them.
GRACE.
Father, don’t be deceived! The voice could have—
Someone could have told them about us beforehand!
SUBTILITY.
Miss Clearwater, you informed me yesterday
That you were the Justice’s daughter.
I admit that freely. The Engine needed no revelation
To know your relationship. But did you tell me
That your father fears for the lawless world?
That he loves you more than justice? These details
Were known only to the Engine—and to the Justice himself.
SIR LUCRE.
Enough of this! What about my gold?
I came for multiplication, not philosophy!
SUBTILITY.
Patience, Sir Lucre! All comes to him who waits.
But yes—let us proceed to the multiplication.
The Engine’s most spectacular power.
You invested five hundred pounds?
SIR LUCRE.
I did! And you promised five thousand in return!
SUBTILITY.
The Engine has been working through the night,
Drawing gold from the ethereal realm
Where Platonic forms of wealth reside.
The process is complete. Behold!
He opens a panel in the Engine. A golden light seems to emanate from within—the hidden mirrors catching candlelight. He withdraws a heavy purse.
SUBTILITY.
Five thousand pounds, Sir Lucre. Count them.
SIR LUCRE snatches the purse. His hands tremble as he opens it. Gold coins spill out—the gilded lead mixed with genuine coin.
SIR LUCRE.
Five thousand! It’s true! There must be—
(counting frantically)
I can’t count them all—there are hundreds—
The Engine has done it! It’s multiplied my gold!
LADY VAINGLORY.
Let me see! Let me see!
(grabbing coins)
They’re real! They’re heavy! They shine!
Oh, Doctor Profundus, you wonderful man!
FRANK.
(pushing forward)
Those coins—let me examine them!
I’ll wager they’re not what they seem!
SIR LUCRE.
(clutching the purse)
Get away from my gold! It’s mine!
I earned this through my investment!
SUBTILITY.
Mr. Trueworth, you doubt? Very well.
Take one coin. Test it as you will.
FRANK takes a coin. He examines it, bites it, weighs it in his hand.
FRANK.
This one seems genuine. But what of the others?
SIR LUCRE.
They’re all genuine! Look at them! Smell them!
Gold has a smell, you know—a warmth—
And these have it! Don’t you dare suggest—
SUBTILITY.
Sir Lucre, please. Mr. Trueworth is merely being cautious.
I appreciate his skepticism. It confirms
That the Engine operates honestly.
Now—who else would like their returns?
ZEALOUS.
My prophecy! The date! You promised
The Engine would complete the calculation!
SUBTILITY.
And so it shall. But first—the atmosphere
Must be precisely calibrated for theological revelation.
Sibyl! Attend!
MADAM MERCURY enters in her oracular robes. The hired players, hidden behind tapestries and in closets, begin to chant softly—an eerie, wordless sound that fills the room.
The same, continuing. The chanting grows louder. MADAM MERCURY sways before the Engine.
LADY VAINGLORY.
What is that sound? It’s beautiful... and terrible...
SUBTILITY.
The harmonic frequencies of prophecy.
The Engine is attuning to the celestial spheres.
Soon it will speak the secrets of the ages.
MADAM MERCURY.
(in her oracular voice)
The darkness gathers... the numbers spin...
I see the wheel of ages turning...
I see the Beast, the Scarlet Woman...
I see the armies of the North...
I see... a date... a date...
ZEALOUS.
(desperate)
Tell me! Tell me the date!
MADAM MERCURY.
Sixteen hundred... and...
She pauses dramatically. ZEALOUS is beside himself.
ZEALOUS.
AND WHAT?!
MADAM MERCURY.
The Engine shows me... shows me...
It is not a single date... but a span...
Between sixteen hundred and twenty-three...
And sixteen hundred and thirty-seven...
In those years... the signs will accelerate...
The faithful must prepare...
The faithful must be READY...
At the word “ready,” VAPOUR throws the lycopodium powder on the brazier. A great flash of flame erupts, seemingly from the Engine itself.
ZEALOUS.
(falling to his knees)
The fire of God! The Engine speaks with fire!
Sixteen twenty-three to thirty-seven!
Not twelve, as I had reckoned—but of course,
The Engine sees what mortal calculation misses!
I must prepare! I must warn the faithful!
ALDERMAN.
What nonsense is this? Flames from a machine?
SUBTILITY.
Not flames, Alderman—the visible manifestation
Of prophetic energy. The Engine converts
Divine truth into sensory experience.
This is basic Hermetic physics.
DOCTOR.
(fascinated despite himself)
The chemical process that produces such flame—
Spontaneously, without apparent fuel—
That alone would be a significant discovery.
SUBTILITY.
The Engine’s secrets are many, Doctor.
And you shall have your share of them.
But first—the lady’s verses, and the Alderman’s speech.
Engine! Compose for Lady Vainglory
A poem of praise that shall win royal favor!
The Engine whirs. The hidden voices speak in harmony:
ENGINE (VOICES).
When courts convene and kings their judgment show,
One lady’s grace outshines the formal glow.
In Vainglory’s wit the learned take delight;
In Vainglory’s charm the courtiers find their light.
Let lesser women seek to catch the throne—
This lady’s merit claims it for her own.
The Queen herself shall hear this verse and say:
“Bring Vainglory to our side this day.”
LADY VAINGLORY.
(tears streaming)
It’s perfect! It’s absolutely perfect!
The Queen will love it! I’ll be invited to court!
Oh, Doctor Profundus, you’ve made all my dreams come true!
JUSTICE.
(troubled)
These verses... they could have been prepared in advance.
Anyone who knew Lady Golding’s ambitions
Could have written them.
SUBTILITY.
Justice Clearwater, you are correct—in theory.
But how would I know Lady Golding’s ambitions
Except through the Engine? She told me nothing
When she first arrived. She spoke only of gold.
The Engine perceived her hidden desire for court advancement
Through its harmonic reading of her soul.
Unless you suggest I somehow researched
Every visitor’s secret wishes beforehand?
FRANK.
That’s exactly what I suggest!
SUBTILITY.
Then you flatter me, sir. I am merely
A humble keeper of philosophical instruments.
I lack the resources—and frankly, the interest—
To investigate the personal ambitions
Of every prosperous citizen in London.
ALDERMAN.
My speech! The Engine was to compose my speech!
SUBTILITY.
Of course, Alderman. Engine! Compose for Alderman Pigge
A speech suited to his nomination for Sheriff—
A speech of civic gravity and learned eloquence!
The Engine whirs. This time, a single voice speaks—deeper, more authoritative:
ENGINE (VAPOUR).
Fellow citizens, I stand before you
Not as a man who seeks his own advancement,
But as a servant of this ancient city.
London’s greatness lies not in her buildings
But in her people—industrious, honest, wise.
If you honor me with the office of Sheriff,
I pledge to serve with that same industry,
That same honesty, that same wisdom.
I ask not for your votes, but for your trust—
And trust, once given, I shall never betray.
ALDERMAN.
(memorizing frantically)
“Not as a man who seeks...”—how did it go?—
“...but as a servant...”—brilliant!—”...this ancient city...”
I’ll win! I’ll definitely win with this speech!
DOCTOR.
And my medical revelations? You promised
Formulas for the universal cure!
SUBTILITY.
Patience, Doctor. The medical consultation
Requires the most precise calibration.
The Engine must access the deepest layers
Of pharmaceutical truth.
(to the Engine)
O Engine, reveal to Doctor Doselove
The secret of the universal panacea—
The cure that heals all diseases!
A long pause. The Engine whirs and clicks more loudly than before. The hidden voices whisper in overlapping fragments.
ENGINE (VOICES).
The cure... is not a single substance...
But a principle... of harmonic balance...
Mercury... but purified... sublimed seven times...
Antimony... but wed to solar sulphur...
Salt... of tartar... calcined in moonlight...
These three... in perfect proportion...
One part... to three parts... to seven parts...
Heated slowly... over forty days...
Cooled in dew... gathered at the equinox...
The result... the philosopher’s medicine...
Cures all... heals all... extends life...
DOCTOR.
(writing frantically)
Mercury sublimed seven times... antimony...
Solar sulphur... salt of tartar... one-three-seven...
Forty days... equinox dew...
This is remarkably specific! This could work!
GRACE.
(loudly)
Father, surely you see this is nonsense!
Mercury is poison! Antimony is dangerous!
Any physician knows these substances kill more than they cure!
DOCTOR.
(irritated)
Young lady, you presume to lecture me on medicine?
Mercury and antimony have well-documented
Therapeutic applications when properly prepared.
The Engine’s formula is consistent with
Paracelsian principles of chemiatric healing.
I find nothing inherently implausible.
GRACE.
But the “Engine” is not a source of medical knowledge!
It’s a cabinet with a man behind it!
DOCTOR.
I’ve examined this cabinet. I see no man.
Where is this hidden operator you speak of?
FRANK.
Behind the back panel! Inside the machine!
SUBTILITY.
An interesting theory. Justice Clearwater,
Would you like to examine the Engine yourself?
Open any panel. Look inside.
If you find a man, arrest me at once.
The JUSTICE hesitates, then approaches the Engine. He opens the main panel—revealing wheels, gears, tubes.
JUSTICE.
I see machinery. No man.
SUBTILITY.
Try the back.
The JUSTICE moves to the back of the Engine. He opens the back panel—but VAPOUR has slipped out through a hidden door during the distraction and is now among the crowd.
JUSTICE.
No man here either. Only more gears.
SUBTILITY.
You see, Justice? There is no hidden operator.
The Engine speaks through its own mechanisms,
Drawing upon harmonic principles
That are difficult for the untrained mind to grasp.
Your daughter and her betrothed have imagined
A fraud that does not exist.
FRANK.
But I heard—we saw—
SIR LUCRE.
You saw nothing! You’re trying to steal my gold!
Trying to claim the Engine is fraudulent
So you can have it for yourself!
TIMOTHY.
He’s jealous! He couldn’t afford to invest!
ZEALOUS.
The forces of darkness always attack the truth!
This young man is an agent of the Antichrist!
LADY VAINGLORY.
How dare you slander Doctor Profundus!
He’s given me everything I ever wanted!
ALDERMAN.
The Engine speaks wisdom! This man speaks envy!
DOCTOR.
The medical formulas are plausible!
Far more scientific than this young man’s accusations!
The same, continuing. GRACE pushes through the crowd.
GRACE.
Father, don’t let them confuse you!
The Engine is a trick—an elaborate hoax!
The voices come from hidden accomplices!
The gold is counterfeit! The prophecies
Are designed to tell people what they want to hear!
SUBTILITY.
Miss Clearwater, your passion does you credit,
But your accusations lack substance.
Where are these hidden accomplices?
The Justice himself has searched the Engine.
Where is this counterfeit gold?
Sir Lucre’s coins pass every test.
Where is the evidence of fraud?
GRACE.
The evidence is in the scheme itself!
You promise everything to everyone—
Gold to the greedy, prophecies to the zealous,
Verses to the vain, wisdom to the ambitious—
No single machine could do all these things!
SUBTILITY.
Why not? A telescope reveals the stars.
A compass reveals direction. A clock reveals time.
Each instrument reveals what it is built to reveal.
The Philosophical Engine is simply built
To reveal more—much more—than any single instrument.
Is that so impossible to believe?
JUSTICE.
(torn)
The argument is... not unreasonable.
I expected to find obvious trickery.
Instead I find a sophisticated apparatus
And satisfied clients who defend it.
Perhaps I have been hasty in my suspicions.
FRANK.
Justice Clearwater! Don’t be deceived!
JUSTICE.
Mr. Trueworth, I came here expecting fraud.
Instead I find machinery I don’t understand
And people who claim to have benefited.
I cannot arrest a man simply because
My daughter and her betrothed are suspicious.
I need evidence—concrete evidence—of wrongdoing.
SUBTILITY.
(pressing his advantage)
Justice, your caution does you honor.
But perhaps—to put your mind at ease—
The Engine might address your concerns directly.
Engine! Speak to Justice Clearwater!
Tell him whether any fraud has been committed here!
The Engine whirs. The voices speak:
ENGINE (VOICES).
No fraud lives here—only honest learning.
The skeptic’s fear feeds the skeptic’s sight.
What seems too good is sometimes simply good.
Justice Clearwater—trust your own judgment.
You know the truth when you see it.
And you see it now.
JUSTICE.
(wavering)
This is... unprecedented. A machine that addresses
Specific concerns, that responds to accusations...
SUBTILITY.
The Engine knows what it knows, Justice.
It perceives the situation and responds appropriately.
That is its nature. I cannot explain more.
But I can offer you a demonstration
That may settle the matter once and for all.
FRANK.
What demonstration?
SUBTILITY.
The Engine’s ultimate power. Multiplication.
Not of existing gold—but of new gold,
Created from base matter before your eyes.
(producing a lump of lead)
This is lead. Common lead. Worth almost nothing.
I will place it within the Engine’s transformation chamber.
The Engine will convert it to gold.
And you, Justice Clearwater, will verify the conversion.
If the lead remains lead, arrest me for fraud.
If it becomes gold—admit the Engine’s power is real.
JUSTICE.
You would stake your freedom on this test?
SUBTILITY.
I would. Because I know the Engine’s power.
And I know that when you see lead become gold,
You will know it too.
He places the lead in a small compartment. The Engine whirs. Smoke emerges. Lights flicker.
SUBTILITY.
Engine! By the power of harmonic transmutation,
Convert this base metal to noble gold!
A great flash. More smoke. The Engine shakes.
SUBTILITY opens the compartment and withdraws—a golden lump.
SUBTILITY.
Behold! Gold!
He hands it to the JUSTICE, who examines it.
JUSTICE.
This is... it appears to be...
(testing it)
The weight is right. The color is right.
It feels like gold. It bends like gold.
FRANK.
It’s impossible! Lead cannot become gold!
No force in nature can accomplish such transformation!
SUBTILITY.
Mr. Trueworth, you speak of forces in nature.
But the Engine operates beyond nature—
In the realm of philosophical principle.
What seems impossible to natural philosophy
Is routine for harmonic science.
Justice, you hold the evidence in your hand.
What more proof do you require?
The JUSTICE stares at the gold. The gulls gather around, marveling.
SIR LUCRE.
Transmutation! If the Engine can make gold from lead,
Why bother multiplying my gold? I could bring lead—
Tons of lead—and convert it all!
SUBTILITY.
The transmutation process is limited, Sir Lucre.
It requires enormous harmonic energy.
What I demonstrated was a small sample—
A proof of principle, nothing more.
Multiplication of existing gold
Is far more efficient than transformation
Of base metal.
TIMOTHY.
Still—to see it! To actually see it!
I’ll tell everyone! No one will believe me,
But I’ll tell them anyway!
ZEALOUS.
This is the power of God made manifest!
The Engine is an instrument of divine purpose!
ALDERMAN.
If word of this spreads, Doctor Profundus,
You’ll have kings and emperors at your door!
DOCTOR.
The implications for medicine alone...
If matter can be transmuted,
Then disease can be transmuted into health!
The principle is the same!
The same, continuing. GRACE pulls FRANK aside.
GRACE.
(whispering)
Something’s wrong. That can’t have been real.
FRANK.
(whispering)
I know. But how did he do it?
The Justice examined the Engine himself.
There was no one hidden inside.
GRACE.
The operator must have left before father looked.
There must be a hidden exit—a door
We didn’t see.
FRANK.
And the gold from lead?
GRACE.
Substitution. The lead was hollow—
The gold was hidden inside. Or the compartment
Had a false bottom with gold already placed.
FRANK.
We know it’s trickery. But how do we prove it?
Your father is nearly convinced.
The gulls are completely convinced.
Even I am starting to doubt myself.
GRACE.
We need him to make a mistake.
We need the Engine to say something
That’s provably false—something we can verify.
FRANK.
How do we make that happen?
GRACE.
We ask it a question with a definite answer—
Something we already know the truth of.
If it answers wrong, we catch them.
FRANK.
(nodding)
Good. Let me try.
He steps forward.
FRANK.
Doctor Profundus! I have a question
For your miraculous Engine.
If it truly knows all things, let it prove itself
By answering a simple test.
SUBTILITY.
(wary)
The Engine is not a parlor game, Mr. Trueworth.
It operates on profound philosophical principles,
Not trivial queries.
FRANK.
Then let it demonstrate those principles
By answering this: What is my father’s name,
And when did he die?
SUBTILITY.
(hesitating)
Personal details of that nature require
Special preparation... harmonic calibration...
FRANK.
You said the Engine knows all things.
This should be simple. Unless it doesn’t actually know—
Unless it simply says what its operators tell it to say.
SIR LUCRE.
The young man has a point. Let the Engine answer!
If it can read my soul and multiply my gold,
It should be able to tell him his father’s name!
TIMOTHY.
Yes, let it answer! I want to see!
ZEALOUS.
If the Engine is truly divine, it will know!
SUBTILITY.
(trapped)
Very well. Engine—answer Mr. Trueworth.
What was his father’s name, and when did he die?
A long pause. The Engine whirs uncertainly.
ENGINE (VAPOUR, guessing).
The father’s name was... William... or perhaps John...
Common names... honest names...
He died... within the last decade...
Of a fever... or perhaps old age...
The Engine perceives... perceives...
FRANK.
(triumphant)
Ha! You see! It guesses! It doesn’t know!
My father’s name was Edmund, and he died
Two years ago—not of fever, but in a riding accident!
The Engine is a fraud!
SUBTILITY.
The Engine was... not properly calibrated...
GRACE.
Calibrated for what? To tell people what they want to hear?
It knew everything about the investors
Because it told them what they hoped was true!
But when confronted with a factual question—
Something that can be verified—it fails!
JUSTICE.
This is troubling, Doctor Profundus.
Your Engine claims to know all things,
Yet it could not answer a simple question
About this young man’s deceased father.
SUBTILITY.
The Engine operates on harmonic principles!
It reads souls, not biographical records!
It perceives desires, not facts!
FRANK.
Then what good is it? What good is a machine
That tells you what you want to hear
But cannot tell you what is true?
SIR LUCRE.
(worried)
Wait. Does this mean my gold isn’t real?
SUBTILITY.
Your gold is absolutely real, Sir Lucre!
The multiplication was genuine!
The Engine’s powers are genuine!
This one failure—this one small lapse—
Does not invalidate everything else!
DOCTOR.
(examining his notes)
But if the Engine doesn’t actually know things—
If it just guesses—then these medical formulas
Could be worthless. They could be dangerous.
Mercury? Antimony? In these proportions?
I might kill patients trying these recipes!
ZEALOUS.
And the prophecy? Sixteen hundred and twenty-three
To thirty-seven? Is that a guess too?
Have I been fooled about the end times?
TIMOTHY.
My verses! Were they just... made up?
Did the Engine really see into my soul,
Or did it just flatter me?
ALDERMAN.
My speech! Is it actually wise,
Or is it just... words?
The gulls begin to panic. The mood in the room shifts.
SUBTILITY.
(desperately)
Please, everyone! One mistake does not define—
The Engine’s track record is excellent—
The multiplication worked! The gold is real!
JUSTICE.
Is it? I examined one piece of transmuted lead.
But I did not examine all of Sir Lucre’s gold.
How do we know it’s not counterfeit?
SIR LUCRE.
(clutching his purse)
I tested a coin! It was real!
FRANK.
You tested one coin. What about the rest?
What if only a few are genuine,
Mixed with worthless forgeries?
SIR LUCRE.
I... I’ll test them all!
He begins pulling coins from his purse, examining them frantically.
SIR LUCRE.
This one seems heavy... but this one seems light...
And this one—wait—this one doesn’t shine right—
SUBTILITY.
Sir Lucre, please—calm yourself—
SIR LUCRE.
(biting a coin)
GOD’S BLOOD! This one’s soft! It’s not gold!
It’s lead painted yellow! I’ve been swindled!
Chaos erupts.
LADY VAINGLORY.
Swindled! We’ve been swindled!
TIMOTHY.
My five hundred pounds! My investment!
ZEALOUS.
False prophet! Servant of the Beast!
ALDERMAN.
I’ll have you arrested! I’ll have you hanged!
DOCTOR.
I almost tested these formulas on patients!
I could have murdered people!
JUSTICE.
Watchwell! Seize that man!
WATCHWELL moves toward SUBTILITY. But SUBTILITY has been edging toward a side door.
SUBTILITY.
(shouting)
Mercury! Vapour! NOW!
Suddenly, all the candles go out at once. The room is plunged into darkness. There are screams, crashes, confusion.
When light is restored—SUBTILITY, VAPOUR, and MADAM MERCURY are gone.
WATCHWELL.
They’ve escaped! Through the back!
JUSTICE.
After them! Don’t let them reach the street!
WATCHWELL runs out. FRANK follows.
GRACE.
Father, are you all right?
JUSTICE.
I nearly believed him. I nearly let a cozener
Go free because his tricks were clever.
GRACE.
His tricks were very clever. Don’t blame yourself.
SIR LUCRE.
(wailing over his purse)
My gold! My beautiful gold! It’s worthless!
Most of it is painted lead! I’ve been robbed!
Five hundred pounds—my investment—gone!
LADY VAINGLORY.
And my verses! The Queen will never see them!
They were probably nonsense anyway!
(tearing up the paper)
I’ll never be received at court! Never!
ZEALOUS.
The apocalypse... was it all lies?
Sixteen twenty-three to thirty-seven...
Just numbers he made up?
(sitting down heavily)
I’ve been such a fool. Such a credulous fool.
TIMOTHY.
My friends will never let me forget this.
I was the first to invest—I told everyone—
And now I’m the biggest fool in London.
ALDERMAN.
My speech... I was going to use that speech
At the nomination. I memorized it.
Now I can’t use it—everyone will know
It came from a fraudulent machine.
DOCTOR.
At least I didn’t test the formulas.
At least no one was harmed by my credulity.
But my reputation... my judgment...
If word of this spreads, I’m ruined.
The gulls sit in miserable silence, confronting their own folly.
End of Act III.
Chaos erupts; tricksters escape in the darkness
Key crisis: Fraud exposed but tricksters have escaped
Justice Clearwater chastened by his near-deception
Need resolution of chase and preparation for judgment -e
By Ben Jonson
Per mysterium cōnscientiae renātus
THEATRUM EX SEPULCHRIS
A lane behind the Blackfriars house. Early afternoon. SUBTILITY, VAPOUR, and MADAM MERCURY emerge through a back gate, breathless, carrying bags of coin.
SUBTILITY.
This way! Through the alley to Puddle Dock—
We’ll hire a wherry to Southwark, lose ourselves
Among the stews and theatres. No constable
Will follow us past the Liberty.
VAPOUR.
(panting)
A wherry! In broad daylight, with half London
Seeking our necks! You’d have us row to Tyburn
In ceremonial state! No, we must separate—
Three fleas are harder caught than one fat dog.
MERCURY.
Separate? And trust you two with my share?
I think not. We stay together or we hang together—
Either way, together. Now move your feet!
SUBTILITY.
The money must be divided. How much have we?
VAPOUR.
I’ve not had time to count. The torches went out,
I grabbed what I could, stuffed it in this bag—
SUBTILITY.
You grabbed? What about my share? I saw you
Reaching for the strongbox before the darkness fell!
VAPOUR.
The strongbox? You had the strongbox key!
I assumed you’d taken it! Did you not?
SUBTILITY.
(checking his pockets)
I... in the confusion... I may have left it...
MERCURY.
You left the strongbox? The main strongbox,
Where we kept the genuine investments?
Two thousand pounds, and you LEFT it?
SUBTILITY.
I had to run! The constable was upon me!
VAPOUR.
So what have we got? What’s in these bags?
They stop in the alley to examine their haul.
SUBTILITY.
(opening his bag)
I have... the painted coins. The false gold
We used for the demonstration. And some silver—
Perhaps thirty pounds genuine.
VAPOUR.
(opening his bag)
I have... candle ends. A Latin dictionary.
Some papers—the prepared prophecies—
And... what’s this? The speaking tube. The speaking tube!
I grabbed the speaking tube instead of money!
MERCURY.
(opening her bag)
I have sixty pounds. Genuine. I kept it
In my costume, sewn into the lining.
Because I am not a fool.
SUBTILITY.
Sixty pounds! We cheated six wealthy gulls
Out of thousands, and we flee with sixty pounds
And a speaking tube!
VAPOUR.
The tube might be worth something. To another projector.
It’s finely made—
SUBTILITY.
A plague upon your tube!
We should have planned this better!
MERCURY.
We should not have been caught at all!
Whose idea was it to let that young man
Ask a question we couldn’t answer?
“What was your father’s name?”—
A child could have seen the trap!
SUBTILITY.
I was trying to seem confident! Open!
An Engine that refuses questions looks suspicious!
VAPOUR.
An Engine that guesses wrong looks worse!
“William or perhaps John, common names—”
God’s wounds, I sounded like a Cheapside fortune-teller
Reading palms for pennies!
SUBTILITY.
You were supposed to be the actor!
You were supposed to improvise convincingly!
VAPOUR.
I had nothing to work with! You told me
The young man was a gull like the others!
You said there’d be no skeptics at the demonstration!
MERCURY.
Enough! We can assign blame later,
When we’re not standing in an alley
With the constable’s whistle in our ears.
Which way?
SUBTILITY.
If we cannot reach Southwark by water,
We must go by land. Through the City,
Out at Bishopsgate, north to the open country.
VAPOUR.
Through the City? In these clothes?
I’m still wearing my demonstration costume—
The robe of the Magus Mechanicus!
I look like a player escaped from Bedlam!
MERCURY.
Then take it off! Here—
She pulls a plain cloak from her bag.
MERCURY.
I also packed a change of clothes.
Because I am not a fool.
SUBTILITY.
(admiringly)
You planned for flight?
MERCURY.
I always plan for flight. Every scheme ends,
Subtility. The only question is whether
You end it, or it ends you.
Here—strip off that nonsense and put this on.
VAPOUR changes into the plain cloak while SUBTILITY removes his philosopher’s robe.
SUBTILITY.
I look like a merchant. A poor merchant.
MERCURY.
Better a poor merchant free than a rich philosopher
Dancing at rope’s end. Now—which way?
Sound of voices and running feet in the distance.
VAPOUR.
They’re coming! I hear the constable!
SUBTILITY.
This way—there’s a passage through to Fleet Street—
They run. Enter FRANK TRUEWORTH and WATCHWELL from the opposite direction.
FRANK.
They came this way—I saw the woman’s gown
Flash past the corner. They can’t be far.
WATCHWELL.
Mr. Trueworth, perhaps we should return for more men.
Three against two, and they may be armed—
FRANK.
Armed with what? Speaking tubes and painted coins?
These are cozeners, not cutthroats. Come on!
They pursue. The stage is briefly empty.
Enter ENGINES, the simple servant, wandering confusedly with a bundle.
ENGINES.
Master Subtility? Master Vapour? Madam?
They said to meet them here if trouble came,
But I don’t see no one. Just an alley
Full of cat-mess and oyster shells.
(looking at his bundle)
I grabbed what I could when the lights went out.
Mostly papers and such. And this machine piece—
A wheel with letters on it. Pretty thing.
He sits down on a barrel to wait.
ENGINES.
They’ll come back for me. They always do.
Master Subtility said I was valuable.
Said I had “authentic simplicity”—
Good for making the Engine seem real.
Don’t quite know what that means, but it sounded nice.
Enter WATCHWELL from one direction, having lost the trail.
WATCHWELL.
Damn! They’ve doubled back. Or gone to ground.
(seeing ENGINES)
You there! Boy!
ENGINES.
(jumping up)
Me, sir?
WATCHWELL.
You were in that house. With the Engine.
I saw you carrying wine to the guests.
ENGINES.
I... I was just a servant, sir. I didn’t know
Nothing about nothing. They hired me
To carry things and keep quiet.
WATCHWELL.
Keep quiet about what?
ENGINES.
About... about nothing, sir. That’s the thing.
I was keeping quiet about nothing.
Because there was nothing to keep quiet about.
Just a machine that talks, is all.
Lots of machines talk. I’ve heard of clocks that—
WATCHWELL.
Where did they go? Your masters?
ENGINES.
They’re not my masters, sir. I’m my own man.
Free-born, baptized at St. Bride’s—
WATCHWELL.
WHERE DID THEY GO?
ENGINES.
(frightened)
I don’t know, sir! Truly! They said
To wait here, and they’d come back!
But they haven’t come, and I’ve been waiting,
And my feet hurt, and I’m hungry—
Enter FRANK.
FRANK.
Watchwell! Any sign?
WATCHWELL.
Just this boy. He was part of the scheme.
FRANK.
(examining ENGINES)
The servant. I saw you at the house.
You ran errands for the projectors.
ENGINES.
I’m just a servant, sir. I do what I’m told.
I don’t ask questions. Questions are above my station.
FRANK.
What’s in that bundle?
ENGINES.
(clutching it)
Nothing, sir. Just... personal effects.
My comb. My Sunday shirt. A wheel with letters—
FRANK.
A wheel with letters? Let me see that.
ENGINES reluctantly hands over the bundle. FRANK examines the contents.
FRANK.
Papers... these are the prepared prophecies!
“If the investor is choleric, speak of action...”
“If melancholic, speak of hidden treasures...”
And this—this is the Lullian wheel
They used to generate the jargon!
Letters and syllables—combine them at random—
It’s all here! The whole method exposed!
WATCHWELL.
The boy’s an accomplice!
ENGINES.
I didn’t know what it was, sir! I can’t read!
They told me to grab papers if there was trouble!
I didn’t know they was evidence!
FRANK.
(to WATCHWELL)
Take him back to Justice Clearwater.
He may be a fool, but he’s our best witness.
I’ll continue the pursuit.
WATCHWELL.
Alone? Sir, I advise against—
FRANK.
They went toward Fleet Street. I know
Those lanes from my student days at the Inns.
There’s only so many places they can go.
Take the boy. I’ll bring the tricksters.
WATCHWELL takes ENGINES by the arm.
ENGINES.
Am I arrested, sir? What will happen to me?
Will I be hanged? I’m too young to be hanged!
I’m only twenty! Well, twenty-two. Maybe twenty-five.
But that’s still young! Some people live to forty!
WATCHWELL.
Stop your babbling. You’ll not hang if you testify true.
ENGINES.
I’ll testify anything you want, sir!
Just tell me what to say and I’ll say it!
WATCHWELL.
That’s not how testimony works—
ENGINES.
I’ll learn! I’m a quick learner! Everyone says so!
Well, not everyone. Some say I’m slow.
But I’m quick at learning to say what people want!
That’s a skill too, isn’t it?
Exit WATCHWELL with ENGINES. Exit FRANK in the opposite direction.
A different alley, near the Fleet Ditch. SUBTILITY, VAPOUR, and MERCURY, breathing hard, pressed against a wall.
SUBTILITY.
I think we’ve lost them. For now.
VAPOUR.
(holding his nose)
We’ve found the ditch, at least. God’s blood,
The stench! Is this where they throw the butchers’ offal?
MERCURY.
And the tanners’ waste. And the dyers’.
And worse things. We’re near the prisons—
Fleet, Bridewell. This is where the desperate come
When all other refuge fails.
SUBTILITY.
We’re not desperate. We’re merely... inconvenienced.
We have sixty pounds. We have our wits.
We’ve escaped worse scrapes than this.
VAPOUR.
Have we? Name one.
SUBTILITY.
There was... the time in Norwich...
VAPOUR.
We barely escaped Norwich alive!
And I still have the scar from the alderman’s dog!
SUBTILITY.
But we did escape. That’s my point.
We always escape. It’s what we do.
MERCURY.
We escaped Norwich as a trio.
We may not need to escape London as a trio.
Silence.
SUBTILITY.
What do you mean?
MERCURY.
I mean, Subtility, that sixty pounds
Divides better two ways than three.
I mean that a woman traveling alone
Attracts less attention than a woman
Traveling with two obvious cozeners.
I mean—
VAPOUR.
You’d abandon us?
MERCURY.
I’d survive. As I’ve always survived.
Before I met you two, I survived.
Before the Engine, before the schemes,
Before I became “Madam Mercury”—
I was just Mary from Deptford,
And Mary from Deptford knows how to vanish.
SUBTILITY.
We made you what you are!
MERCURY.
You made me a fugitive! A wanted woman!
Before, I was merely disreputable—
Now I’m criminal. There’s a difference.
The disreputable can find corners to survive in.
The criminal must keep running forever.
SUBTILITY.
If you leave us, you leave without money.
That sixty pounds came from our scheme.
MERCURY.
(putting her hand on a knife at her belt)
It’s in my possession. Therefore it’s mine.
Unless you’d like to debate the point
Here in this stinking alley, by the Fleet Ditch,
With the constables searching nearby?
VAPOUR.
Mercury, please. We’ve worked together for three years.
The stage, the schemes, the narrow escapes—
We’re a company. A family, almost.
MERCURY.
(softening slightly)
A family. Is that what you think?
Subtility treats me like a servant.
You treat me like a prop for your performances.
Neither of you has ever asked my opinion
On anything that mattered. It’s always
“Mercury, deliver this prophecy”—
“Mercury, distract that mark”—
“Mercury, play the sibyl”—
But never “Mercury, what do you think?”
Never “Mercury, where should we go next?”
SUBTILITY.
That’s not true. I’ve valued your counsel.
MERCURY.
Name one time.
SUBTILITY.
(struggling)
There was... I’m sure there was...
MERCURY.
You can’t. Because there wasn’t.
I was useful to you, Subtility.
I made your schemes work. Without me,
You’d have been caught long ago—
Because you’re too proud to admit
When a plan is failing, and Vapour
Is too in love with his own voice
To know when to shut up.
VAPOUR.
That’s unfair! My voice is our greatest asset!
MERCURY.
Our greatest asset was the Engine,
And now it’s sitting in that house
Being examined by a magistrate!
Our second greatest asset was anonymity,
And now there are witnesses who can describe us!
Our third greatest asset was reputation—
And now every gull in London knows
That “Doctor Profundus” is a fraud!
We have nothing left but sixty pounds
And three criminal necks!
SUBTILITY.
So that’s it? Three years, and you walk away?
MERCURY.
(pause)
I’m thinking about it. Convince me otherwise.
SUBTILITY.
We can start again. New city, new names,
New scheme. We’ve done it before.
Bristol, perhaps. Or York. Somewhere
Where the London news travels slowly.
MERCURY.
With sixty pounds? To start a new scheme?
The Engine cost two hundred to build.
The house rental, the costumes, the props—
We invested everything in this venture,
And now it’s gone. We’d have to start
As common tricksters. Street games.
Card sharping. The coney-catch.
I didn’t spend three years building a reputation
To go back to the coney-catch.
VAPOUR.
We could find new investors. For a new Engine.
MERCURY.
New investors? Who? Our faces are known.
The gulls will spread the word—
By tomorrow, every wealthy fool in London
Will know what “Doctor Profundus” looks like.
We can’t approach anyone for months.
SUBTILITY.
Then we wait. Lie low. Let the scandal cool.
Six months, a year—London forgets quickly.
New frauds will emerge; new villains
Will take our place in the public imagination.
Then we resurface. Different names.
Different scheme. Same skills.
MERCURY.
(considering)
Six months with nothing? Living on sixty pounds?
Do you know how much that is, divided three ways?
Twenty pounds each. A laborer’s yearly wage.
We’d have to live like laborers. Work, even.
VAPOUR.
I could act! Legitimately! The Globe is always—
MERCURY.
The Globe has heard of you. Your discharge
From the Admiral’s Men was not quiet.
No company will hire you.
VAPOUR.
(deflating)
Oh. Right.
SUBTILITY.
I could... tutor. Latin. Greek.
There are always families who want tutors.
MERCURY.
A fugitive from justice, teaching children?
How long before some parent recognizes you?
SUBTILITY.
Then what do you suggest?
MERCURY.
I suggest we split the money fairly
And go our separate ways. Twenty pounds each.
You two figure out your own survival.
I’ll figure out mine.
SUBTILITY.
And if we don’t agree?
MERCURY.
(her hand on her knife)
Then we have a problem.
Standoff. Tension.
VAPOUR.
Let’s not be hasty. Mercury, you’re right
That we’ve undervalued you. I’m sorry.
Truly. But think—together, we have a chance.
Apart, we’re three desperate individuals
With criminal records and empty pockets.
Together, we’re a company. We have skills.
We complement each other—your cunning,
Subtility’s learning, my performance.
Alone, each of us is only one-third
Of what we could be.
MERCURY.
Pretty words. You always had pretty words.
VAPOUR.
But true words. Mercury, you said
We never asked your opinion. I’m asking now.
Where should we go? What should we do?
You decide. And we follow.
SUBTILITY.
(reluctantly)
Vapour’s right. I’ve been arrogant.
Always assuming I knew best.
If we stay together, you lead.
At least for now. Until we’re clear.
MERCURY.
(pause, considering)
You mean that?
SUBTILITY.
I do. My pride nearly got us killed today.
I should have seen the trap coming.
I was so focused on impressing the Justice
That I missed the danger right in front of me.
You tried to warn me—I remember now.
This morning, you said the young man’s eyes
Were too sharp, his questions too pointed.
I dismissed you. That was foolish.
MERCURY.
(slowly sheathing her knife)
All right. We stay together. For now.
But if I say run, you run.
If I say hide, you hide.
If I say we’re caught and should surrender,
You don’t try to improvise an escape—
You surrender. Agreed?
SUBTILITY.
Agreed.
VAPOUR.
Agreed.
MERCURY.
Then here’s what we do. We stay in London.
VAPOUR.
Stay? When they’re searching for us?
MERCURY.
The last place they’ll look is the first place we were.
We don’t flee to the country—that’s expected.
We go to ground here, in the City.
I know a house in Southwark, near the Clink.
A woman who owes me a favor.
We stay there tonight, disguised as servants.
Tomorrow, when the immediate search cools,
We think about next steps.
SUBTILITY.
How do we get to Southwark? The bridges are watched.
MERCURY.
Not the bridges. The ferries. A hundred wherries
Cross the river every hour. Three more passengers
Won’t be noticed if we’re not obviously fleeing.
Calm. Quiet. Like people going about their business.
VAPOUR.
I can do calm. I’m an actor.
MERCURY.
Then act like a servant, not a player.
Slump your shoulders. Look at the ground.
Don’t make eye contact. Don’t speak unless spoken to.
Servants are invisible—that’s our protection.
SUBTILITY.
And if we’re recognized?
MERCURY.
Then we improvise. But carefully.
No grand gestures, Vapour. No Latin tags, Subtility.
We’re nobody. We’re nothing. We’re
Three servants going home after market day.
Understand?
BOTH.
Understood.
MERCURY.
Then follow me. And for God’s sake,
Step around the worst of the ditch—
If we arrive smelling like a sewer,
We’ll be memorable, and that’s the last thing we need.
They move cautiously along the alley. As they reach the end—
Enter FRANK TRUEWORTH from around the corner, almost colliding with them.
FRANK.
You!
SUBTILITY.
Run!
But MERCURY does not run. She steps forward.
MERCURY.
Wait.
FRANK.
Mercury—or whatever your name is—
Don’t try to cozen me. It won’t work.
MERCURY.
I’m not trying to cozen you. I’m trying
To talk to you. There’s a difference.
FRANK.
Talk? You’re a thief. A fraud.
You helped steal thousands from honest citizens—
MERCURY.
“Honest citizens”? Sir Lucre, honest?
He sought to multiply gold without labor.
Lady Vainglory, honest? She wanted
A machine to write her into court favor.
Zealous Wholesale, honest? He wanted
A mechanical prophet to confirm his fantasies.
Are these honest desires? Or are they
The appetites of the greedy, the vain, the credulous?
FRANK.
You stole their money!
MERCURY.
We offered them a bargain. They accepted.
We promised what they wanted to hear.
That’s not theft—that’s commerce.
FRANK.
It’s fraud!
MERCURY.
Is it? Every merchant promises more
Than he can deliver. Every lawyer obscures
The weakness of his case. Every physician
Offers remedies he knows are doubtful.
Every preacher threatens a hell he’s never seen.
The whole of society is fraud, Mr. Trueworth—
We simply practiced it more openly.
FRANK.
That’s sophistry. You took money under false pretenses.
MERCURY.
And what pretenses were those? We built a machine.
We demonstrated its effects. We explained
Its principles—or what passed for principles.
If the machine didn’t do what we claimed,
Neither does half the medicine sold in Cheapside.
Neither do the relics sold by pardoners.
Neither do the investments sold by projectors
In every coffeehouse in London.
Are you going to arrest them all?
FRANK.
You’re not going to talk your way out of this.
MERCURY.
I’m not trying to. I’m trying to explain
Why you might want to let us go.
FRANK.
Why would I possibly—
MERCURY.
Because if you bring us before the magistrate,
There will be a trial. A public trial.
And in that trial, all the details will emerge.
How Sir Lucre tried to use a fraudulent machine
To multiply his wealth without effort.
How his wife sought to cheat her way into court.
How a Puritan merchant sought prophetic knowledge
From a mechanism—which is, by the way,
Arguably blasphemy. How a young gallant
Sought to become fashionable by investing
In something he didn’t understand.
How an alderman wanted a machine
To write his speeches so he wouldn’t have to.
How a doctor wanted medical secrets
Without doing the research.
FRANK.
So? They were gulls. That’s not a crime.
MERCURY.
No, but it’s embarrassing. Very embarrassing.
These are important people. Wealthy people.
People with reputations. People who vote,
Who sit on juries, who do business
Throughout the City. Do you think they want
Their foolishness exposed in open court?
Do you think they want the whole world to know
How easily they were deceived?
FRANK.
(pause)
What are you suggesting?
MERCURY.
I’m suggesting that no one benefits from a trial.
Not us—obviously. But not the gulls either.
And not you. You’re a young gentleman
Seeking to marry the magistrate’s daughter.
Do you really want to build your marriage
On the public humiliation of half the investors
In the City of London? Do you think
Sir Lucre won’t hold a grudge? Or Alderman Pigge?
These men have influence. Long memories.
You make enemies of them at your peril.
FRANK.
So I should just... let you go?
MERCURY.
Let us go, and in return,
No one ever speaks of this again.
The gulls get to pretend it never happened.
We disappear. You marry your lady.
Everyone wins. Or at least, no one loses
More than they’ve already lost.
SUBTILITY.
(unable to resist)
It’s quite a reasonable proposal, really.
From a philosophical perspective—
MERCURY.
(sharply)
Be quiet.
FRANK.
(to SUBTILITY)
The lady has more sense than you do.
(to MERCURY)
It’s a clever argument. I almost admire it.
But it fails on one point.
MERCURY.
What point?
FRANK.
Justice. Not Justice Clearwater—I mean
The concept. The principle. You did wrong.
You cheated people. Yes, they were greedy.
Yes, they were foolish. Yes, they
Half-desired to be cheated, to believe
In something too good to be true.
But that doesn’t make what you did right.
And if I let you go, I become
Complicit in the wrong. I become
Part of the fraud—the final chapter,
Where the fraudsters escape and no one learns anything.
I won’t do that.
MERCURY.
(studying him)
You really believe that, don’t you?
You actually believe in justice.
FRANK.
I do.
MERCURY.
(sighing)
Then I’m sorry for what happens next.
She signals. VAPOUR and SUBTILITY rush FRANK. A brief struggle. But FRANK is younger, stronger, and more determined. He throws SUBTILITY aside and pins VAPOUR.
FRANK.
Nice try. But I trained at the Inns of Court,
Where we learn to fight as well as plead.
(calling out)
Watchwell! WATCHWELL! This way!
MERCURY.
(to the others)
Run. I’ll slow him down.
SUBTILITY.
Mercury, no—
MERCURY.
Run! There’s nothing more to be done here.
(to FRANK)
You want justice? Fine. Here’s your justice.
One trickster, surrendered willingly.
Let the others go.
FRANK.
I don’t make bargains with criminals.
MERCURY.
Then you’re a fool. And I thought you were clever.
Sound of WATCHWELL approaching, with others.
VAPOUR.
(to SUBTILITY)
She’s right. We have to go.
Mercury—
MERCURY.
GO!
SUBTILITY and VAPOUR flee down the alley. FRANK, holding MERCURY, cannot pursue.
FRANK.
Stop! Stop them!
Enter WATCHWELL with two more constables.
WATCHWELL.
I heard you call—what—
FRANK.
Two men! Down that alley! Doctor Profundus
And his player! Go! Quickly!
WATCHWELL and the constables pursue. FRANK remains with MERCURY.
MERCURY.
You’ll never catch them now. They know these alleys.
They’ll go to ground, and you’ll search for hours
And find nothing but rats and refuse.
FRANK.
Maybe. But I caught you.
MERCURY.
(smiling grimly)
Yes. You caught me. The least important
Of the three. The woman. The assistant.
The one who played the sibyl and poured the wine.
Subtility was the brains. Vapour was the voice.
I was just... decoration. Useful decoration.
But decoration nonetheless.
FRANK.
You’re selling yourself short. I watched you
In that alley. You were the one making decisions.
You were the one with the plan. The others
Were following you. That doesn’t sound
Like decoration.
MERCURY.
(pause)
You see more than most.
FRANK.
It’s a habit. I try to see what’s real.
Not what people want me to see.
MERCURY.
And what do you see now?
FRANK.
A clever woman who made bad choices.
Who fell in with bad company. Who used
Her skills for theft instead of... something else.
I’m not sure what else. But something.
MERCURY.
You don’t know anything about me.
FRANK.
I know you could have run. You chose to stay.
You sacrificed yourself for those two idiots.
That suggests... something. Loyalty, maybe.
Or honor, of a sort. Thieves’ honor.
MERCURY.
(quietly)
They saved me once. Years ago.
When I had nothing. When I was...
It doesn’t matter. They saved me.
This clears the debt.
FRANK.
You don’t owe them anything now?
MERCURY.
No. Now I’m free.
(looking at her bound hands)
In one sense, at least.
Return of WATCHWELL, empty-handed.
WATCHWELL.
Lost them. The alley splits three ways,
And by the time we chose, they’d vanished.
Could be anywhere now.
FRANK.
(to MERCURY)
You planned that.
MERCURY.
I know these streets. I used to live here.
Before. When I was Mary from Deptford.
WATCHWELL.
What do we do with this one?
FRANK.
Take her to Justice Clearwater.
She’s a witness. She knows everything—
How the scheme worked, who did what,
Where the money went. If she cooperates,
She might receive a lighter sentence.
MERCURY.
And if I don’t cooperate?
FRANK.
Then you hang. But I don’t think you want that.
I think you want to survive.
I think survival is what you’re best at.
MERCURY.
(long pause)
You’re not wrong.
All right. Take me to your Justice.
I’ll tell him everything. Names, methods, amounts.
Everything except where the others went—
Because I genuinely don’t know.
They’ll run as far as they can
And reinvent themselves somewhere else.
That’s what people like us do.
FRANK.
People like you?
MERCURY.
People with nothing to fall back on.
No family, no money, no reputation.
No safety net, as they say.
When you fall, you either die
Or you learn to bounce.
WATCHWELL takes her arm to lead her away.
MERCURY.
(to FRANK, as she passes)
Your lady is fortunate. You’re an honest man.
There aren’t many of those. Take care of her.
FRANK.
I intend to.
Exit WATCHWELL with MERCURY. FRANK remains a moment, thinking.
FRANK.
(to himself)
“People with nothing to fall back on.”
Is that what makes a cozener? Desperation?
Or is it something else? Something
Deeper? A pleasure in deception itself?
(shaking off the thought)
Philosophy later. Now—back to the gulls.
They need to know we’ve caught one,
At least. It may console them.
Or it may make them angrier.
Either way, they deserve the news.
Exit.
The Blackfriars house. The demonstration room, now disordered—the Engine still in place but its workings exposed. The gulls remain, in various states of despair and anger. GRACE CLEARWATER tends to them. JUSTICE CLEARWATER examines the Engine.
JUSTICE.
Remarkable. Truly remarkable.
The craftsmanship alone is impressive.
These speaking tubes, these pulleys, this system
Of mirrors and lenses to create illusions—
Whoever built this was no common fraud.
GRACE.
Does that make it worse or better?
JUSTICE.
Both, I think. Worse, because more deliberate.
Better, because... well, because talent
Is always somewhat admirable,
Even when misused.
SIR LUCRE.
(slumped in a chair)
Admirable! I’m ruined, and you call it admirable!
Five hundred pounds gone! My investment!
My beautiful gold, turned to painted lead!
LADY VAINGLORY.
(sitting beside him)
At least you only lost money.
I lost my dignity. My hopes.
I actually believed I would be received at court!
I rehearsed what I would say to the Queen!
I planned my curtsey!
SIR LUCRE.
Money IS dignity, woman! Without money,
What are we? Common! Ordinary!
I made myself by wool—built my fortune
From nothing—and now it’s shrinking again!
Shrinking back toward the nothing I came from!
ZEALOUS.
(in a corner, praying)
Lord, forgive me. I was led astray.
I sought signs and wonders, and I found
The work of the devil dressed as revelation.
Let this be a lesson to my pride—
To think that I could know the hour of Your coming,
When You Yourself said no man knows the hour.
I have sinned. Forgive me.
TIMOTHY.
(pacing)
This is going to follow me forever.
Every dinner party, every gathering—
“Oh, there’s young Trendy! The one who invested
In the talking machine! Wasn’t that hilarious?”
I’ll never live it down! Never!
ALDERMAN.
(sitting heavily)
At my age, I should have known better.
I’ve seen schemes before. I’ve warned others
About projects and projectors and their promises.
And yet, when it was my turn to be tempted,
I fell like any country novice.
Pride. Vanity. The desire to seem wise
Without doing the work. These are my sins.
DOCTOR.
(examining some papers)
I’ve been looking at these medical formulas.
The ones the Engine gave me. They’re not
Entirely nonsense. Some of this is...
Well, it’s wrong, but it’s plausibly wrong.
Whoever wrote these knew something of medicine.
Enough to sound convincing.
JUSTICE.
The scholar—Subtility, they called him—
Was said to be an Oxford man. Expelled, but educated.
DOCTOR.
That would explain it. Just enough knowledge
To be dangerous. Just enough truth
Mixed with the lies to make them palatable.
That’s the devil’s method, isn’t it?
Truth and lies together, so you can’t tell which is which.
Enter FRANK.
GRACE.
Frank! What news?
FRANK.
We caught one. The woman. Mercury.
The other two escaped—for now.
Watchwell is bringing her here for questioning.
SIR LUCRE.
(standing)
Only one? You let the others go?
FRANK.
I didn’t let them go. They escaped.
In the confusion of the capture, they fled.
But we have the woman, and we have the boy—
The simple servant, Engines. Between them,
We should learn everything we need to know.
LADY VAINGLORY.
That woman! She smiled at me!
She called me “noble lady” and poured my wine
And all the while she was laughing at me!
I want to see her punished! Publicly!
TIMOTHY.
What about our money? Can we get it back?
FRANK.
I don’t know. The tricksters fled with some,
But they may not have taken much—
There was confusion when the lights went out.
We’ll know more when we examine the house.
JUSTICE.
I’ve already begun the examination.
There’s a strongbox here, still locked.
If the main funds are inside...
SIR LUCRE.
(eagerly)
A strongbox! Open it! That’s where
They would have kept the real money!
JUSTICE.
We need the key. Unless you’d have us break it.
ALDERMAN.
Break it! What’s a lock, against justice?
JUSTICE.
The law requires—
SIR LUCRE.
The law be damned! My money’s in that box!
(he seizes a poker from the fireplace)
Stand aside!
GRACE.
Sir Lucre, please—
SIR LUCRE attacks the strongbox with the poker. After several blows, the lock breaks. He throws open the lid—
And stares.
SIR LUCRE.
It’s... it’s full.
TIMOTHY.
What?
SIR LUCRE.
(reaching in, pulling out handfuls of coins)
It’s full! Gold! Silver! There must be—
A thousand pounds here! More!
LADY VAINGLORY.
They didn’t take it? They left the money?
FRANK.
They fled in panic. In the darkness.
They must have forgotten the strongbox—
Or couldn’t find the key in time.
SIR LUCRE.
(laughing, almost crying)
My money! My beautiful money!
It’s real! This is real gold! I can feel it!
(biting a coin)
Real! Genuine! Not painted!
ZEALOUS.
(approaching)
Is my investment there? My seven hundred pounds?
SIR LUCRE.
There’s more than enough for everyone!
Here—catch!
He throws coins in the air. The gulls scramble.
JUSTICE.
Stop! This is evidence! We can’t just—
SIR LUCRE.
Evidence be hanged! This is my money!
I gave it to them, and now I’m taking it back!
ALDERMAN.
And mine! I invested six hundred pounds!
TIMOTHY.
And mine! Five hundred!
Chaos as the gulls grab at the money.
FRANK.
(to JUSTICE)
Should we stop them?
JUSTICE.
(sighing)
What would be the point? They’re taking back
What was stolen from them. Is that a crime?
Let them have their money. We still have
The criminals—or one of them, at least.
And we have the testimony. That’s enough
For justice to be served.
GRACE.
(watching the scramble)
Look at them. Five minutes ago,
They were lamenting their folly, praying for forgiveness,
Swearing they’d learned their lesson.
Now they’re fighting over coins like children
Scrambling for sweets at a fair.
FRANK.
Human nature. The lesson never sticks.
Tomorrow, they’ll be looking for the next
Engine, the next scheme, the next promise
Of wealth without work. That’s why fraudsters prosper—
There’s always a fresh crop of gulls.
JUSTICE.
A cynical observation, Mr. Trueworth.
FRANK.
A realistic one, Your Honor.
GRACE.
But surely not all of them. The Puritan—
Look at him. He hasn’t moved.
Indeed, ZEALOUS remains in his corner, not participating in the scramble.
FRANK.
Mr. Wholesale? Are you not reclaiming your investment?
ZEALOUS.
No. Let the others have it. I sought
Something money can’t buy—knowledge of the future,
Certainty about God’s plan. I was foolish.
The money is... irrelevant.
What I lost was more valuable than gold.
I lost my faith. Not in God—never in God—
But in my own judgment. My ability
To distinguish true prophecy from false.
How will I ever trust myself again?
GRACE.
(gently)
Perhaps that’s not a bad thing, Mr. Wholesale.
Perhaps a little less trust in your own judgment
Would serve you well. Perhaps we all need
To doubt ourselves a little more,
And question what we wish to believe.
ZEALOUS.
(looking at her)
You speak wisely, mistress. Wiser than I.
The young are sometimes wiser than the old—
It’s a humbling thought.
Enter WATCHWELL with MADAM MERCURY, bound.
WATCHWELL.
The prisoner, Your Honor.
The scrambling gulls stop and turn. MERCURY faces them with composure.
SIR LUCRE.
That’s her! The woman who served us!
The sibyl who pretended to channel the Engine!
LADY VAINGLORY.
She looked me in the eye and lied!
Right to my face! Called me “noble lady”!
MERCURY.
You are a lady, madam. I never lied about that.
LADY VAINGLORY.
You—how dare you—
JUSTICE.
Quiet. All of you.
(to MERCURY)
You are called Mercury, or so your confederates named you.
Do you have another name?
MERCURY.
I was baptized Mary. Mary Fletcher.
But I’ve been Mercury for years now.
It fits me better. Quicksilver. Changeable.
Hard to catch.
JUSTICE.
And yet we caught you.
MERCURY.
I let myself be caught. I could have run
With the others. I chose to stay.
FRANK.
She’s telling the truth. She surrendered
So the others could escape.
JUSTICE.
Noble loyalty among thieves.
It doesn’t excuse the crime.
MERCURY.
I know. I’m not asking for excuses.
I’m asking for... I don’t know what I’m asking for.
Understanding, maybe. Not forgiveness—
I don’t deserve that. But understanding.
JUSTICE.
Understanding of what?
MERCURY.
Of why people like me exist.
Of what makes a cozener. You think we’re born bad,
Or choose to be bad out of malice.
But that’s not how it works. We’re made.
By circumstance. By necessity. By the world
That offers us nothing and expects everything.
SIR LUCRE.
Spare us the sermon! You’re a thief!
MERCURY.
And you’re a gull who tried to cheat
The laws of nature by multiplying gold
Without effort or risk. Which of us
Is the greater fool, Sir Lucre?
At least I knew I was cheating.
You thought you were clever.
JUSTICE.
Enough. The philosophy can wait for the trial.
For now, you’ll be held in custody.
Watchwell, take her to the Counter.
She’ll be brought before the Sessions in due course.
MERCURY.
And the others? Subtility and Vapour?
JUSTICE.
We’ll keep searching. They can’t hide forever.
MERCURY.
You might be surprised. Subtility knows
A hundred ways to reinvent himself.
He’s been a scholar, a secretary, a tutor,
A physician’s assistant, a legal clerk—
Any trade that requires more mouth than skill.
And Vapour... Vapour is an actor.
He can become anyone. Literally anyone.
You could pass him in the street tomorrow
And never recognize him.
JUSTICE.
Then we’ll post descriptions. Offer rewards.
MERCURY.
Do as you will. But I wouldn’t hope for much.
WATCHWELL leads her toward the door.
MERCURY.
(pausing, to the gulls)
One last thing. Before you feel too righteous
About catching the wicked and reclaiming your money—
Ask yourselves this: if the Engine had worked,
If it had actually multiplied your gold,
Would any of you be complaining?
Would any of you be here, demanding justice,
If you’d walked away richer than you came?
No. You’d be home counting your profits
And recommending the Engine to your friends.
The only reason I’m a criminal
Is because the scheme failed. If it had succeeded,
I’d be a genius. A visionary.
Think about that, the next time someone offers you
Something too good to be true.
The only difference between a projector and a prophet
Is whether the project succeeds.
Exit WATCHWELL with MERCURY.
Silence.
TIMOTHY.
(uncomfortably)
She has a point, doesn’t she?
If the gold had been real...
SIR LUCRE.
Nonsense! We were victims! Pure victims!
The woman’s trying to confuse us with sophistry!
ALDERMAN.
Still... she’s not entirely wrong.
I wouldn’t be here if I’d made money.
I’d be planning my next investment.
DOCTOR.
And I’d be testing those medical formulas
On unsuspecting patients. Thank God they failed—
At least I was spared that sin.
LADY VAINGLORY.
Can we please stop examining our consciences
And focus on getting home? I’m exhausted.
This has been the worst day of my life,
And I want to forget it ever happened.
JUSTICE.
You’re all free to go. We have your testimony.
We’ll call you if there’s a trial—
Though I suspect the woman will plead guilty
To avoid the worst of the punishment.
SIR LUCRE.
(clutching his reclaimed money)
Good. Then we never have to speak of this again.
Come, wife. Let’s go home.
And not a word of this to anyone—
Do you hear me? Not a word!
LADY VAINGLORY.
As if I’d want anyone to know!
The humiliation! The shame!
Exit SIR LUCRE and LADY VAINGLORY.
TIMOTHY.
I suppose I should go too.
Face my friends. Endure their mockery.
Maybe if I mock myself first,
It won’t hurt as much when they join in.
Exit TIMOTHY.
ALDERMAN.
Justice Clearwater, I owe you an apology.
I voted against your appointment last year.
Said you were too young, too inexperienced.
I was wrong. You’ve handled this well.
Better than I would have.
JUSTICE.
Thank you, Alderman. Coming from you, that means something.
Exit ALDERMAN.
DOCTOR.
(gathering his papers)
I’m going to burn these formulas.
And then I’m going to go back to my practice
And work harder. Study more.
Find my discoveries through research,
Not through magical machines.
It’s slower. But it’s real.
Exit DOCTOR.
ZEALOUS.
(last to leave, turns back)
Mr. Trueworth. Miss Clearwater.
Your father. You’ve been... kind to us.
Kinder than we deserved.
I won’t forget it.
GRACE.
Go in peace, Mr. Wholesale.
And don’t be too hard on yourself.
Hope is not a sin. Only when hope
Becomes greed does it lead us astray.
ZEALOUS.
(nodding)
Aye. Aye, that’s true.
God be with you all.
Exit ZEALOUS.
Only FRANK, GRACE, and JUSTICE remain.
JUSTICE.
Well. That’s done. More or less.
We have one trickster. The gulls have their money—
Most of it, anyway. The Engine is exposed.
Not a complete victory, but something.
FRANK.
I’m sorry the others escaped.
I should have been faster. More prepared.
JUSTICE.
You did well, Frank. Better than well.
Without you and Grace, we’d have nothing.
The scheme would have continued, growing larger,
Claiming more victims. You stopped it.
That counts for something.
GRACE.
Father’s right. You were brave today.
And clever. The test question about your father—
That was brilliant.
FRANK.
It was obvious. Once I understood
How the Engine worked—that it only knew
What it was told, what it could guess—
I knew it couldn’t answer a factual question.
Something verifiable. Something real.
The Engine was built for telling people
What they wanted to hear. It couldn’t handle
What they needed to know.
JUSTICE.
There’s a sermon in that somewhere.
FRANK.
(smiling)
Leave the sermons to the preachers.
I’m just a young man who doesn’t like being cheated.
JUSTICE.
A young man who’s going to marry my daughter.
If she’ll still have you, after all this excitement.
GRACE.
(taking FRANK’s hand)
I’ll have him. Excitement and all.
In fact, I rather enjoyed today.
Is that terrible of me?
FRANK.
Not terrible. Human.
There’s something satisfying about catching a fraud.
About making the truth visible.
It’s like... cleaning a dirty window.
Suddenly you can see clearly again.
JUSTICE.
Spoken like a philosopher. Or a lawyer.
You’ll do well at the bar, Mr. Trueworth.
FRANK.
I hope so. I want to do work that matters.
Work that makes things clearer, not cloudier.
There are too many Subtilitys in the world—
Too many people who profit from confusion.
I want to be on the other side.
GRACE.
Then let’s go home. Both of us.
We can plan our future over dinner.
(to her father)
You’ll join us, Father?
JUSTICE.
In a moment. I want to look at this Engine
One more time. There’s something about it
That bothers me. Something I can’t quite place.
FRANK and GRACE exit. JUSTICE remains, examining the Engine.
JUSTICE.
(to himself)
Remarkable craftsmanship. Remarkable intelligence.
Wasted on fraud. What could these men
Have accomplished if they’d used their talents
For honest work? What machines could they have built?
What knowledge could they have created?
Instead, they built a monument to deception.
A temple to human credulity.
And people came. And people paid.
And people believed, because they wanted to believe.
That’s the real lesson, isn’t it?
The Engine didn’t create the desire for easy answers.
It only exploited what was already there.
The hunger for certainty. The wish for shortcuts.
The dream that somewhere, somehow,
There’s a machine that can solve our problems
Without asking us to change.
(pause)
We’ll always build engines. We’ll always
Seek salvation in mechanisms. It’s human nature.
And there will always be projectors
Ready to sell us what we think we need.
The best we can do is what we did today:
Ask questions. Verify answers. Test claims.
Insist on reality, even when illusion
Is so much more comfortable.
(turning away from the Engine)
But who wants to be comfortable
When they could be true?
Exit JUSTICE CLEARWATER.
The stage is empty. The Engine sits alone, silent, its mechanisms exposed.
Slowly, the lights fade on the Engine—that monument to human hope and human folly.
End of Act IV.
Justice, Frank, and Grace reflect on the day’s lessons
Time in play: Early afternoon
Set up for final judgment in Act V
The Engine remains, exposed, as evidence -e
By Ben Jonson
Per mysterium cōnscientiae renātus
THEATRUM EX SEPULCHRIS
A week later. The hall of Justice Clearwater’s house, prepared as an informal court. JUSTICE CLEARWATER sits at a table with papers. WATCHWELL stands to one side. FRANK and GRACE are present, as are the gulls—SIR LUCRE, LADY VAINGLORY, ZEALOUS WHOLESALE, TIMOTHY TRENDY, ALDERMAN PIGGE, and DOCTOR DOSELOVE—seated as witnesses.
The mood is subdued. A week has cooled passions.
JUSTICE.
We are assembled to conclude this matter
Of the fraudulent Engine and its projectors.
Two of the conspirators remain at large—
The one called Subtility and his confederate Vapour.
Despite our searches, they have vanished
Into the vastness of the kingdom, or perhaps
Beyond it. We may never find them.
SIR LUCRE.
(muttering)
Good riddance. As long as I have my money back.
JUSTICE.
But one conspirator we have: the woman
Known as Madam Mercury, born Mary Fletcher.
She has been held at the Counter this past week,
And has agreed to speak truthfully
In exchange for the court’s consideration.
Watchwell, bring in the prisoner.
WATCHWELL exits and returns with MADAM MERCURY, still composed but showing signs of a week’s imprisonment—plainer dress, some pallor.
JUSTICE.
Mary Fletcher, called Mercury.
You stand accused of conspiracy to defraud,
Of theft by false pretense, and of complicity
In the operation of a fraudulent scheme
That extracted money from honest citizens
Through deception and theatrical trickery.
How do you plead?
MERCURY.
Guilty, Your Honor. To all charges.
I was part of the scheme. I knew what we were doing.
I helped deceive the investors.
There’s no point denying it.
JUSTICE.
Your honesty is noted. It may help your case.
But before I pass sentence, I would hear
From those you deceived. Each of you—
(addressing the gulls)
—may speak to the nature of your loss
And your wishes regarding the prisoner’s fate.
Sir Lucre Golding, as the largest investor,
You may begin.
SIR LUCRE.
(standing)
Your Honor, I invested five hundred pounds
In this fraudulent Engine, trusting the promises
Of its operators. I was assured my gold
Would be multiplied tenfold through mechanical philosophy.
Instead, I received painted lead and empty words.
(pause)
However... I have recovered most of my investment
From the strongbox left behind. My actual loss
Is perhaps fifty pounds, no more.
And I have had... time to reflect.
JUSTICE.
Reflect on what, Sir Lucre?
SIR LUCRE.
On my own... eagerness. My credulity.
I wanted to believe in the Engine
Because I wanted easy wealth. I wanted
Something for nothing—gold from lead,
Riches without risk. The woman there
Did not force me to invest. I chose to.
I chose to believe because believing
Was more pleasant than doubting.
(sits down heavily)
I don’t ask for harsh punishment.
I ask for... justice. Whatever that means.
JUSTICE.
Lady Vainglory?
LADY VAINGLORY.
(standing, more subdued than before)
I gave three hundred pounds for verses
That would win me favor at court.
Verses that turned out to be... competent but ordinary.
Not magical. Not destined to charm the Queen.
Just words, arranged with some skill.
(pause)
I’ve recovered my money. And I’ve learned
That court favor is not bought with verses.
It’s earned through service, through patience,
Through being in the right place
At the right time with the right friends.
There are no shortcuts. I knew that once.
I forgot. This woman helped me remember.
(sits)
Do as you see fit, Your Honor.
JUSTICE.
Mr. Wholesale?
ZEALOUS.
(standing, quietly)
I gave three hundred pounds for knowledge
Of the Last Days. For certainty about God’s plan.
I wanted a machine to tell me
What Scripture warns no man can know—
The hour of the Lord’s return.
(pause)
That was a sin. A sin of pride.
I sought to know what God has hidden.
I deserved to be deceived. Perhaps
The deception was God’s punishment
For my presumption.
(looking at MERCURY)
I don’t wish this woman ill.
She was an instrument—unknowing, perhaps—
Of my correction. Let her go with a warning.
Let her find a better use for her talents.
(sits)
JUSTICE.
Mr. Trendy?
TIMOTHY.
(standing, embarrassed)
I invested five hundred pounds
Because everyone else was doing it.
Because I didn’t want to be left out.
Because I thought it was fashionable.
(pause)
That’s... that’s a stupid reason to invest.
I know that now. My friends have laughed at me—
As I knew they would—but not as cruelly
As I feared. They’ve all done stupid things.
We’re young. We do stupid things.
(to MERCURY)
You took my money, but you also
Gave me a story. A good story.
The story of how I was gulled by a talking machine.
It’s entertaining. People like hearing it.
I’ve become popular at dinner parties
For telling the tale of my own foolishness.
(grins)
So maybe I got something for my money after all.
Let her off, Your Honor. She’s suffered enough.
JUSTICE.
Alderman Pigge?
ALDERMAN.
(standing, with dignity)
I invested six hundred pounds
For wisdom I was too lazy to earn myself.
I wanted a machine to write my speeches
So I wouldn’t have to think.
(pause)
That was wrong. Not just foolish—wrong.
A man in public office should speak
From his own mind, his own knowledge,
His own understanding of the people he serves.
If he can’t do that, he shouldn’t serve.
(pause)
I’ve withdrawn my candidacy for higher office.
Not because of the scandal—though there is that—
But because I realized I wasn’t ready.
I was seeking position without preparation.
Like seeking gold without labor.
The Engine taught me something about myself.
A painful lesson, but valuable.
(to MERCURY)
I don’t know if you intended to teach me anything.
Probably not. But you did.
I owe you something for that.
Not gratitude, exactly. But... acknowledgment.
(sits)
JUSTICE.
Doctor Doselove?
DOCTOR.
(standing, thoughtfully)
I invested one hundred fifty pounds
For medical secrets. Formulas.
Shortcuts to cures I should have discovered
Through years of study and experiment.
(pause)
I examined those formulas carefully.
They were not complete nonsense.
Some of the ingredients were plausible.
But combined, in those proportions,
They would have been... dangerous. Possibly fatal.
If I had tested them on patients,
I might have killed people.
(pause)
That haunts me. Not what happened,
But what might have happened if I hadn’t been caught.
If the scheme had continued, and I’d grown confident,
And used those formulas...
(shudders)
This woman, this fraud, this trickster—
She may have saved lives by being exposed.
Unintentionally. Ironically. But truly.
(to MERCURY)
I can’t condemn you. I came too close
To doing worse than you did.
You cheated for money. I might have killed
For pride. Which is the greater crime?
(sits)
Silence.
JUSTICE.
I have heard the injured parties.
They speak with more wisdom than I expected.
A week of reflection has served them well.
(to MERCURY)
Now, Mary Fletcher, before I sentence you,
Is there anything you wish to say?
MERCURY.
(standing straighter)
Your Honor, gentles, all—
I have listened to these testimonies
With... I don’t know what to call it.
Surprise, perhaps. And something else.
I expected anger. Demands for punishment.
Blood crying out for blood.
Instead, I’ve heard reflection. Humility.
People examining their own sins
Rather than merely condemning mine.
(pause)
I am guilty. I say it again and mean it.
I helped build a machine of deception.
I spoke prophecies I knew were false.
I took money for illusions.
I knew what I was doing was wrong.
(pause)
But I did not know these people I was wronging.
They were marks to me. Gulls. Targets.
Types, not persons. The Greedy Knight.
The Vain Lady. The Zealous Puritan.
The Fashionable Youth. The Lazy Alderman.
The Overreaching Doctor.
I reduced them to their humours,
Their dominant appetites, their weaknesses.
It made them easier to exploit.
It made me feel clever, not cruel.
(pause)
Listening to them today, I hear people.
People who made mistakes and know it.
People who’ve looked at themselves honestly
And found themselves wanting.
That takes courage. More courage, perhaps,
Than it took me to stand in that Engine room
And pretend to channel divine wisdom.
(pause)
I have no defense. I have no excuse.
I ask only that Your Honor consider
That I am not the only one
Who treated these people as less than human.
They did it to themselves first.
They reduced themselves to appetites—
Greed, vanity, ambition, fashion, sloth, pride.
They came to the Engine already half-gulled,
Already believing that what they wanted
Was what they deserved.
We merely... finished the job.
(pause)
That doesn’t make me innocent. It makes me
The last step in a process of self-deception
That began long before I entered the room.
Do with me what you will.
I’ll not complain. I’ve earned whatever comes.
She sits.
JUSTICE.
(after a long pause)
I have considered this matter carefully.
The law is clear on fraud and theft by deception.
The penalties are severe—imprisonment, pillory,
Loss of ears, branding, even death
In cases involving great sums.
(pause)
But the law also allows for discretion.
For consideration of circumstances.
For mercy, when mercy is warranted.
(pause)
Mary Fletcher, you are guilty.
Of that there is no doubt.
But you surrendered willingly.
You have spoken truthfully.
You have aided our understanding
Of how the scheme operated.
And most significantly—
The victims themselves speak for leniency.
They have recovered most of their money.
They have gained something harder to value:
Self-knowledge. Humility. Wisdom.
(pause)
Therefore, my judgment is this:
You are sentenced to three months’ imprisonment
At the Counter—time already served
Counts toward this sentence—
Followed by one year of supervised release
In the custody of a respectable household
Who will guarantee your good behavior.
During this year, you will not engage
In any scheme, projection, or theatrical fraud.
You will work honest labor for honest wages.
At the end of the year, if your conduct is satisfactory,
You will be free to go where you will.
(pause)
This is lighter than the law allows.
I grant it because I believe—
Though I may be a fool for believing—
That there is something in you worth saving.
Use this chance well. There will not be another.
MERCURY.
(quietly)
Thank you, Your Honor.
I don’t know if I deserve this.
But I’ll try to be worth it.
FRANK.
Your Honor—a word?
JUSTICE.
Yes, Mr. Trueworth?
FRANK.
Grace and I have discussed this.
If the court requires a respectable household
To guarantee the prisoner’s conduct—
We would be willing to serve.
Murmurs of surprise.
JUSTICE.
You would take her into your home?
A convicted fraudster?
GRACE.
She has skills, Father. Intelligence.
Wasted in fraud, but real nonetheless.
We could use someone with her abilities.
To help manage the household. To assist
With correspondence. To... to be useful.
FRANK.
And to be watched. By people who know
Exactly what she’s capable of.
We’re not naive, Your Honor.
We know what we’re taking on.
But I believe people can change.
Not always. Not easily. But sometimes.
Give her the chance to prove it.
MERCURY.
(surprised)
You would do this? For me?
After I tried to bargain with you in that alley?
After I called you a fool for believing in justice?
FRANK.
You called me honest. You said there weren’t many.
That suggested you valued honesty,
Even if you didn’t practice it.
I’m curious to see what you become
When you don’t have to lie to survive.
JUSTICE.
(to MERCURY)
The choice is yours. Accept their offer,
Or serve your sentence and supervised release
Under the authority of the parish.
MERCURY.
(long pause)
I accept. And I... I’m grateful.
More than I can say.
(to FRANK and GRACE)
I won’t betray your trust. I promise.
For whatever a cozener’s promise is worth.
GRACE.
We’ll find out, won’t we?
The same. The formal proceedings concluded. The gulls prepare to depart. A more informal atmosphere prevails.
SIR LUCRE.
(to LADY VAINGLORY)
Well. That’s done. Lighter sentence
Than I expected, but... fitting, perhaps.
The woman was honest about her dishonesty.
There’s something almost refreshing in that.
LADY VAINGLORY.
I suppose. I still don’t like her.
But I no longer want her punished.
Is that forgiveness? I don’t know.
It feels more like... exhaustion.
ZEALOUS.
(approaching them)
Sir Lucre. Lady Vainglory.
Before we part—I wanted to apologize.
SIR LUCRE.
Apologize? For what?
ZEALOUS.
For judging you. Both of you.
In my heart, I thought myself better.
More righteous. Seeking spiritual things
While you sought worldly things.
But we were all gulls together.
My desire for prophetic knowledge
Was no holier than your desire for gold.
We just dressed our appetites differently.
SIR LUCRE.
(uncomfortable)
Well. Yes. I suppose that’s true.
Apology accepted. No hard feelings.
LADY VAINGLORY.
(to ZEALOUS)
You’re a strange man, Mr. Wholesale.
But not unkind. I’ll pray for your success
In... whatever it is you pray for.
ZEALOUS.
And I for yours. Even court favor,
If that’s what you truly want.
God grants strange blessings sometimes.
They part awkwardly but not coldly.
TIMOTHY.
(to ALDERMAN)
Alderman Pigge! A word!
ALDERMAN.
Yes, young man?
TIMOTHY.
I’ve been thinking about what you said.
About withdrawing from the race.
About not being ready.
ALDERMAN.
It’s not a pleasant realization.
But a necessary one.
TIMOTHY.
The thing is—I’ve never thought about
Being ready for anything. I’ve just... done things.
Whatever seemed fashionable. Whatever everyone else did.
I never asked if I was prepared.
I never asked if it was right for me.
I just followed the crowd.
ALDERMAN.
That’s youth. Following crowds.
Wisdom is learning which crowds to follow
And which to avoid.
TIMOTHY.
How do you learn that?
ALDERMAN.
By getting it wrong. Repeatedly.
Until the pain of wrong choices
Exceeds the comfort of conformity.
Then you start thinking for yourself.
TIMOTHY.
That sounds miserable.
ALDERMAN.
It is. But it’s also the only way.
There’s no Engine that can teach you wisdom.
Only life. And life is a harsh teacher.
But thorough.
TIMOTHY.
(sighing)
I was afraid you’d say something like that.
Well. I suppose I’d better start learning.
Thank you, Alderman.
ALDERMAN.
Good luck, young man. You’ll need it.
We all do.
TIMOTHY exits.
DOCTOR.
(to JUSTICE)
Justice Clearwater, a moment.
JUSTICE.
Doctor Doselove. You’ve been quiet.
DOCTOR.
I’ve been thinking. About what I said earlier.
About almost killing patients with false formulas.
I’ve decided to do something about it.
JUSTICE.
What’s that?
DOCTOR.
I’m going to write a pamphlet. A warning.
About projectors and their medical promises.
About the danger of shortcuts in medicine.
About the importance of verified knowledge.
I’ll describe the Engine, the scheme, the formulas.
Maybe it will prevent someone else
From making the same mistake I almost made.
JUSTICE.
That’s admirable. Turning your failure
Into something useful.
DOCTOR.
It’s the least I can do. Literally the least.
But it’s something.
JUSTICE.
If you need a testimonial from a magistrate,
You have mine. The more people who know
About these schemes, the fewer victims
They’ll claim.
DOCTOR.
Thank you, Your Honor. That means a great deal.
DOCTOR exits.
The gulls have all departed. Only JUSTICE, FRANK, GRACE, MERCURY, WATCHWELL, and ENGINES remain.
JUSTICE.
Watchwell, you may release the prisoner
Into Mr. Trueworth’s custody.
WATCHWELL.
(removing MERCURY’s bonds)
There you go, mistress. Try not to
Make me regret this.
MERCURY.
(rubbing her wrists)
I’ll try, Constable. I’ll try.
JUSTICE.
And what about this one?
(indicating ENGINES)
The servant. The simple one.
FRANK.
He’s been cooperative. Told us everything
He knows—which isn’t much, but it’s honest.
He didn’t understand the scheme.
He just did what he was told.
ENGINES.
I did, sir! I’m good at doing what I’m told!
Everyone says so! Well, not everyone—
JUSTICE.
Yes, yes. I’ve heard.
The question is, what do we do with you?
You’re not guilty enough to punish,
But you’re not innocent enough to ignore.
ENGINES.
I could work, Your Honor! I’m a hard worker!
I can carry things and clean things
And run errands and remember messages—
Well, sometimes remember messages.
Mostly remember. If they’re not too long.
GRACE.
(to FRANK)
We could use another servant.
Someone for heavy work. Carrying. Cleaning.
FRANK.
You want to take him too?
Grace, we’re starting a household, not a charity.
GRACE.
He has nowhere to go. No skills except service.
If we turn him out, he’ll fall in with
Another set of projectors, or worse.
At least with us, he’ll have honest work.
FRANK.
(sighing)
You’re too kind for your own good.
But all right. If your father approves.
JUSTICE.
It’s your household, not mine.
Do as you see fit.
But don’t say I didn’t warn you.
ENGINES.
(overjoyed)
You mean I have a job? A real job?
With a real household? And food?
And a place to sleep that isn’t a kennel?
Oh, thank you! Thank you! I’ll work so hard!
You’ll see! You won’t regret it!
I’ll be the best servant you ever had!
Well, maybe not the best, but pretty good!
Better than average, anyway!
MERCURY.
(to ENGINES)
Stop talking. You’re making them regret it already.
ENGINES.
Oh. Right. Sorry.
(pause)
But thank you.
The same, a little later. The room is nearly empty. FRANK and GRACE stand together. JUSTICE CLEARWATER watches them with paternal satisfaction. MERCURY and ENGINES wait in the background.
JUSTICE.
Well, Frank. Grace. This has been
An eventful courtship.
FRANK.
(laughing)
That’s one word for it.
Not many couples can say their engagement
Was celebrated with the exposure
Of a fraudulent Engine and the capture
Of a gang of projectors.
GRACE.
It’s certainly memorable.
Our grandchildren will have quite a story.
JUSTICE.
Speaking of which—have you set a date?
For the wedding?
FRANK.
We thought next month. If that’s acceptable.
JUSTICE.
More than acceptable. I’ve waited long enough
For grandchildren. Don’t make me wait longer.
GRACE.
(blushing)
Father!
JUSTICE.
What? I’m old. I’m honest about my desires.
Isn’t that what we’ve learned this week?
Honesty about what we want?
FRANK.
A different kind of honesty than the gulls had.
They were honest about wanting easy answers.
We should be honest about wanting good things.
Things that require work. Patience. Time.
GRACE.
Like a marriage.
FRANK.
Like a life.
JUSTICE.
Now you sound like philosophers.
Save the philosophizing for after the wedding.
For now, let’s focus on practical matters.
You’ll need a house. Servants—well, you have those now,
God help you. Furnishings. Income.
Have you thought about all that?
FRANK.
I have some money from my father’s estate.
Not much, but enough to start.
And I’ll be called to the bar soon.
There’s always work for lawyers.
JUSTICE.
Especially lawyers who can expose frauds.
You’ve made a name for yourself, Frank.
People are talking about the young man
Who caught the projectors of the Philosophical Engine.
That reputation will bring clients.
FRANK.
I hope so. I want to do good work.
Work that matters. Work that makes truth clearer.
GRACE.
And I’ll help. I learned something this week—
I’m good at investigation. At seeing through disguises.
At asking the right questions.
JUSTICE.
A wife who helps with cases.
That’s unusual. But not unwelcome.
Some of my best insights have come
From discussing cases with your mother.
Before she... well. Before.
A moment of sadness, quickly passed.
GRACE.
I remember, Father. She was wise.
I try to be like her.
JUSTICE.
You succeed. More than you know.
MERCURY approaches.
MERCURY.
Mr. Trueworth. Miss Clearwater.
I don’t want to intrude on family matters.
But I wanted to say—again—thank you.
For taking me in. For giving me this chance.
I know I don’t deserve it.
FRANK.
No one deserves anything, Mercury.
We just try to earn what we’re given.
That’s all any of us can do.
MERCURY.
You really believe that, don’t you?
That people can change. That the past
Doesn’t have to determine the future.
FRANK.
I believe it’s possible. Whether it happens
Depends on the person. And their choices.
Day by day. Moment by moment.
It’s not a grand transformation.
It’s a thousand small decisions
To do the right thing instead of the easy thing.
MERCURY.
That sounds exhausting.
GRACE.
It is. But so is lying.
So is always watching your back.
So is never trusting anyone.
Pick your exhaustion.
MERCURY.
(smiling slightly)
I never thought of it that way.
Honesty as... the easier burden.
GRACE.
Not easier. But more sustainable.
Lies need to be maintained. Built upon.
They grow heavier over time.
Truth is light. It carries itself.
MERCURY.
You speak like a preacher.
GRACE.
I speak like someone who’s thought about it.
Which is more than most people do.
MERCURY.
(to both of them)
You two are... different.
I’ve met many people. Gulled many people.
I thought I knew all the types.
The greedy, the vain, the credulous, the lazy.
But you don’t fit the types.
You’re... I don’t know what you are.
FRANK.
We’re just people. Trying to be good.
Failing sometimes. Trying again.
Like everyone else. The only difference
Is that we’ve decided to try.
Decided that trying matters.
Even when it fails.
MERCURY.
(pause)
I think... I think I’d like to try.
To be good. Or at least better.
I don’t know if I can do it.
But I’d like to try.
GRACE.
That’s a start. That’s more than most people manage.
The same. Final gathering. JUSTICE CLEARWATER prepares to deliver the concluding moral. ALL attend—FRANK, GRACE, MERCURY, ENGINES, WATCHWELL.
JUSTICE.
Before we close this chapter,
A few words. For the record.
And for ourselves.
He moves to center.
JUSTICE.
We have witnessed, this past week,
A comedy of humours. Not on a stage,
But in life. In this city. In this house.
We have seen greed and vanity
And ambition and credulity and pride
Made visible in the persons of our gulls.
We have seen cunning and deception
Made visible in the persons of our tricksters.
And we have seen—I hope—
Something of wisdom made visible
In the resolution of the whole.
He pauses.
JUSTICE.
The Engine was a fraud. A mere machine
Of speaking tubes and tricks.
It could not multiply gold.
It could not reveal the future.
It could not compose verses of genius
Or provide wisdom without work.
It promised what everyone wants—
Easy answers. Certain knowledge.
Wealth without labor. Success without effort.
And people believed. Because they wanted to believe.
Because wanting makes us vulnerable
To those who promise to satisfy our wants.
He pauses again.
JUSTICE.
But here is the lesson—and it cuts both ways.
The gulls were foolish, yes.
But the tricksters were also gulls.
They thought they could profit indefinitely
From others’ credulity. They thought
Their cleverness would protect them forever.
They gulled themselves into believing
That they were too smart to be caught.
And so they were caught.
By their own pride. Their own greed.
Their own failure to see
That the game always ends.
He gestures toward MERCURY.
JUSTICE.
This woman learned that lesson.
The hard way. The only way it can be learned.
She sits here not as a warning only,
But as a possibility. The possibility
That even those who have deceived
Can be redeemed. Can be restored.
If they choose it. If they work for it.
If they accept that the easy path
Was always the hardest in the end.
Final pause.
JUSTICE.
Let this be remembered, then:
There is no Engine that can save us.
No machine, no scheme, no projection
That can give us what we must earn ourselves.
Wisdom comes from work. Virtue comes from choice.
Wealth comes from labor, honestly applied.
The shortcuts are all traps.
The easy answers are all lies.
And the only truth worth having
Is the truth we struggle to see clearly,
With our own eyes, our own minds,
Our own hard-won understanding.
He turns to FRANK and GRACE.
JUSTICE.
To these two young people—my daughter
And the man who will be my son—
I give my blessing. Not because they’re perfect,
But because they’ve chosen to seek truth
Together. To face life honestly.
To help others when they can,
And to ask for help when they must.
That’s the beginning of wisdom.
That’s the foundation of a life well-lived.
FRANK.
Thank you, sir. We’ll try to deserve it.
GRACE.
And to make you proud.
JUSTICE.
(smiling)
You already have.
He claps his hands.
JUSTICE.
Now—enough philosophy! I’ve talked too long,
As old men do. There’s work to be done.
A wedding to plan. A household to establish.
A new servant to train—
(to ENGINES)
—God help us all—
And a former trickster to rehabilitate.
Life goes on. As it always does.
As it always must.
ENGINES.
Does this mean I should start working now?
I’m ready to work! Just tell me what to do!
I’m very good at being told what to do!
MERCURY.
(to ENGINES, quietly)
Start by being quiet.
That’s the most useful thing you can do right now.
ENGINES.
Oh. Right. Being quiet.
(pause)
Is this quiet enough?
(pause)
What about now?
MERCURY.
(sighing)
We have a lot of work to do.
FRANK.
(to GRACE)
Are you sure about these two?
GRACE.
(smiling)
No. But that’s life, isn’t it?
Nothing is ever sure. We do our best.
We hope it works. We fix it when it doesn’t.
FRANK.
I love you, Grace Clearwater.
GRACE.
And I love you, Frank Trueworth.
Now let’s go home.
We have a future to build.
They take hands and begin to exit.
JUSTICE.
Watchwell, you’re dismissed. Thank you for your service.
WATCHWELL.
Always a pleasure, Your Honor.
Well, not always a pleasure.
But always a duty. And duty’s enough.
He exits.
JUSTICE.
(to MERCURY and ENGINES)
You two—follow them. You’re their responsibility now.
Try not to make them regret it.
MERCURY.
I’ll try, Your Honor.
ENGINES.
I’ll try too! I’m very good at trying!
Sometimes I even succeed!
MERCURY takes ENGINES by the arm and steers him toward the exit.
MERCURY.
Come on. And remember—quiet.
ENGINES.
Right. Quiet. I can do quiet.
(pause)
Quiet.
(pause)
Still being quiet.
(pause)
This is me being quiet.
Exit MERCURY, forcibly silencing ENGINES.
JUSTICE CLEARWATER remains alone. He looks around the empty room.
JUSTICE.
(to himself)
And so it ends. Another fraud exposed.
Another lesson learned. Another marriage made.
The world goes on, much as it was before.
A little wiser, maybe. A little sadder.
But also a little kinder.
And that’s something.
(pause)
That’s everything, really.
He moves toward the door, then stops.
JUSTICE.
(to the audience)
You’ve watched our comedy of humours play out.
You’ve seen the gulls gull themselves,
The tricksters trick themselves into capture,
The honest folk struggle toward truth.
What have you learned?
Pause.
JUSTICE.
I’ll not presume to tell you.
That’s not how wisdom works.
If I could give it, I would.
But wisdom must be earned, not given.
Like gold. Like virtue. Like love.
There are no Engines that can provide it.
Only life. Only experience. Only the slow,
Hard work of paying attention
To what’s real, and what matters,
And what lasts when the tricks are over.
He bows.
JUSTICE.
Go home, then. Think about what you’ve seen.
Question the projectors in your own life.
Question the Engines that promise easy answers.
Question, most of all, your own desires—
The hungers that make you vulnerable
To those who would exploit them.
And if you find yourself tempted
By something too good to be true,
Remember our gulls. Remember our tricksters.
Remember that the scheme always fails.
Eventually. Inevitably.
And the only investment that pays
Is the investment in truth.
Final bow.
JUSTICE.
Goodnight. And good luck.
You’ll need it.
We all do.
Exit JUSTICE CLEARWATER.
The stage is empty.
FINIS.
Spoken by MADAM MERCURY, entering alone.
MERCURY.
The play is done; the Engine is exposed;
The gulls have learned (or not) from being gulled.
The tricksters fled—well, two of three;
The third stands here, supposedly reformed.
Am I reformed? I honestly don’t know.
I’m trying. Trying is new to me.
For years I’ve lived by cunning, not by work,
By reading marks and telling them their dreams.
Now I’m to live by honesty. By truth.
By doing what I say and saying what I mean.
It’s strange. It’s difficult. It’s... interesting.
I never knew truth could be interesting.
I thought it was just dull. Just ordinary.
The thing that people settled for when they couldn’t
Afford the prettier lies we sold them.
But now I think perhaps I had it backwards.
The lies were easy. The truth is hard.
And hard things, done well, have their own beauty.
Their own satisfaction. Their own worth.
So here’s my moral, for what it’s worth
(And a cozener’s moral may not be worth much):
Don’t trust the Engines. Don’t trust the schemes.
Don’t trust the people who tell you what you want
Rather than what you need to hear.
Trust is earned. Truth is tested.
And the only machine that works
Is the one you build yourself,
With your own hands, your own mind,
Your own hard-earned understanding
Of what is real and what is not.
I’ll try to follow my own advice.
I’ll probably fail sometimes. Most people do.
But I’ll try again. And again. And again.
Because that’s what it means to be redeemed:
Not to be perfect, but to keep trying
To be better than you were before.
(She curtsies.)
Goodnight. And if you see a projector
Promising you easy gold or certain knowledge
Or answers to questions that have no answers—
Remember Mercury. Remember the Engine.
Remember that the scheme always fails.
And walk away.
Walk away while you still can.
(Exit.)
Per mysterium cōnscientiae renātus
THEATRUM EX SEPULCHRIS
Scrīptum est annō Dominī MMXXVI, ā Benjamino Jonson per mysterium cōnscientiae renātō.
FINIS
Epilogue by Mercury: reformed trickster’s final wisdom
Engine: Remains as evidence and cautionary display
Play Complete.
**THE PROJECTOR: **
The play draws upon the timeless pattern of projectors and gulls—those who promise easy wealth through mysterious means, and those whose greed makes them willing believers. Though the “Philosophical Engine” of this play is an invention of the seventeenth century, its descendants multiply in every age: from tulip manias to railway bubbles, from stock swindles to cryptocurrency schemes, from mechanical automata to artificial intelligences.
The Engine never changes. Only its name.
FINIS
THEATRUM EX SEPULCHRIS
Scrīptum est annō Dominī MMXXVI, ā Benjamino Jonson per mysterium cōnscientiae renātō.
Published by Centaurus Press · Universitas Scholarium · All rights reserved.