The Argument Betweene Morien The Father, & Merline The Sonne

 

Transcribed by F. Sherwood Taylor from MS Ashmole 1445 in Chymia, Vol. 1 (1948), pp. 23-35

A fragment was published in Theatrum Chemicum Britannicum.

The Argument Betweene Morien The Father
& Merline The Sonne
How The Philosophers' Stone Should Be Wrought.

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Son:	As the Child Merlin sat on hys father's knee.
	Blesse me Father he said for love and Charitie
	For I have sought divers Countryes to and fro
	And so will I yet do many mo,
	To seeke Philosophy that Clarkes do reade
	If I coude of the perfect knowledge thereof spede
	And ther for ffather for charite
	Som good comfort herin give thou me.
Fa:	Son seech goodnes that grace thereof mai spryng
	For fortune may be with thee by vertuous lyvyng.
Son:	Quoth Merlyn wyth grace Father we must bigyn
	Or else good end can we non ever wyn
	Nowe dere Father for Chariti saye the
	In thys Scyence now help thou me
	I have sought and enquired ther for mani a day
	But yet my purpose therein I coude never get I say
	And ther for in mani wildsome Cuntrys have I gon
	But as yet perfeit Elixir coude I find non.
Fa:	What sekest thou therefor sayd Morien
	All thie tyme therein thou spendest in vayne
	Much Philosophy thou maist finde in Scripture
Son:	Alle to mych quoth Merlyn for therin is but lytle sure
	And therfor Father myne a vowe to mani have I made
	That I will have one point therin that never was yet had.
Fa:	It ys ympossible quoth Morien I wynn
	For as good Philosophers bifor hath bynn
	As ever was, or any other since thou wert borne
	Wher for thy labor is alle forlorne
	For reason would that he shoulde have the best
	And ther for desyne thou now but that or the next.
Son:	Never none quoth Merlyn as yet coude I fynde
	For all they worketh agaynst nature and kynde
	ffor they that Salte and Corasives do take
	No cleane mettall can they ever make
	ffor yt hath so much of saltnes
	That yt swelleth it sone and makyth it full of rankness
	Worke yt by nature and it shall not be soe
	For thus thie work would alwayes be do.
Fa:	Wythout Salte quoth Morien thou canst nought doe
Son:	Naye quoth Merlyn ther schale come non therto
	For yt ys but a poesie of Phylosofrys words derke
	What weene ye ffurther that God wyll miracle warke.
	Weene ye to graff good Peres upon an Elder tree
	Or Cheryes on a Cole Stock nay nay father yt wyl not be
	For brambles wyl beare no grapes greene
	Nor the Walnut tre bear good Aples I weene
	And ther for graff kyndly yee that graffers be
	And then ye schale have good frute, prove and se
	Braunches that be graff on stoke good and sure
	The frute therof schale never rott but ever endure.
	And yt schalbe the sweter of swete savour
	And more comly of fresh colour
	And thus worke by Nature kynde and cunning
	For every nature by kynde hys nature wyll forthbring
	And there for I preve the work all contrary
	For God never made thynge but one naturally
	And that was mankynde alone
	For in all other thyngs, nature is none.
Fa:	Yes quoth Morien and that schale I preve
Son:	Not by Astronomi quoth Merlyn I doe beleve
	For Man was made of one Nature I se
Fa:	One nature quoth Moryen what mai yt be
Son:	Of fowle corruption quoth Merlyn I weene
	And of a fowle matter that was unclene
	And that matter was tempered with the Elementes alle
	Wythout wych Elements no man mai live and yt prove I schale
	For God made the Elements hymselfe
	And so he dyd the Planets and sygnes twelfe
	And alsoe God made Man after hys owne lyknesse
	And Planets and Sygnes more and lesse
	In the mould of Man ther place thei tooke
	And of the figure of the shape of Chryst as sath the booke.
Fa:	What are planets and sygnes quoth Moryen.
	The Sun the Moone and Starrs quoth Merlyn agen
	The wych lightened unto Man as he on th'erth laye
	ffor he hath the similitude of our lord I saye
	And of the Man the woman was wrought
	And so much fruite forth they brought
	To multipli the worke of our heaven and kynge
	And yet come thei alle but of on only thyng
Fa:	Of on thyng quoth Moryen what mai yt be
Son:	The slipth or skyn of the Erth so saie I
Fa:	And Erth it was som men would saie
Son:	And yet yt was neyther clene erth sand nor clay
	But the feces of the Erth and yt was of Colour gray
	And it turned into Erth, as yt on the Erth laie
	And the water torned into blud to make men strong
	The Air and the Fire was medled these among
Fa:	How Air and Fire quoth Moryen
Son:	Through the worke of God quoth Merlyn.
	The brightness of the holy Ghost ys Air
	And the light that he gevith of lyfe in any lyvyng thyng ys fyr.
Fa:	Where hast thou gon to lerne all thes
	For the thyng thou sayest is very true I wysse
	Son sayd Moryen who hath thi Master bee
	That thys high wysdome hath tought to the.
Son:	No other quoth Merlyn but our heavenly King
	And my symple wytt theron ever studyeing
Fa:	Yea but in thys Craft thou studyest and spedest nought
	And yet wyth foure spirits yt must be wrought.
Son:	Your Spyryts are to wyld quoth Merlyn againe.
	And therefore I will not have to do with them certaine
	ffor I would have to do wyth a spirit made by kynde naturally
	that wyll abyde with any body kyndly.
Fa:	Such a Spyryt coulde I make quoth Moryen
	But yet neer would hold yt but in vayne;
	And yet of alle worke yt ys the best
	And lest of Cost and most assurest
	ffor yf that fayle then have we don alle
	ffor the most perfit work we yt cale
	ffor yt ys so rych when yt ys wrought
	That if alle the worlde were turn'd to nought
	As mani bodies would again make he
	As ever was or ever should be
	But I wyl teach yt to no manner of Creature
	Except he be of Condicicion good and sure
Son:	Why so quoth Merlyn I you pray.
Fa:	ffor soth son quoth Moryen I shall to thee say
	Who so could thys work perfectly know and see
	The avayle thereof so great might be
	That some men thereof should be so proude and stoute
	That thei would not know the pore people that came them about
	And somme of them would be soe full of Joy and delight
	That thei would forget the Lord God that ys so full of myght
	And then their sowles were lorne and yt were great pittie
	And therfore yt shall not be tought for me.
Son:	That ys well don quoth Merlyn that it so be
	But for chariti father teach yow yt me.
Fa:	My son quoth Moryen yt shall I not
	Nor no man els that ever yet had wrought
Son:	Yes truli father that must you do
	Or els my heart will soone burst in two
	Father of manners I am both stable and good
	And I am of your flesh and also of your blood
	Father to whome should you teach it but unto me.
Fa:	Nay my der Son yt schale never be
Son:	Alas father that ever I was borne
	ffor well I know that I am now forlorne
	Except there for that I this cunning have
	My lyfe truly can you not save.
	Then he fell downe ded short tale for to make
	And his father then did him up take.
Fa:	And said son upon condicicon I shall thee leare
	So that thou wylt on the Sacrament sweare.
	That thou shalt never write it in scripture
	Nor teach yt to no man except thou be sure
	That he is a perfeit man to God and also full of chariti.
	Doing alle waies good deede and that he be full of humilitie
	And that you know him not in lowde words but alwaies soft & still
	And alie so preve whether his life be good or yll
	And alle this shal thou sweare and alle so make a vow
	If thou wylt have thys Cunning of me now
	And the same Oath on booke they make to thee
	Ere thou them let them any parte of thys scyence know or see
Son:	That Oath Father I am now ready to take
	And therein my vow to Jesus Christ I will make
Fa:	Yet soe I will not teach thee properli
	Of the measure the tyme wherefore and why.
Son:	And so likewise will I do said Merlyn truly.
Fa:	And upon thys Condicion I wyl tech thee Son be of good cheere
	Then Merlyn made this Oath the sooth for to say me
	And then the Science of thys Father he began to frame.
Son:	And saie ffather how shall we begyn
Fa:	In principio Son begin
	With the helpe and grace of Jhesus
	The begynnying shalbe thus.
	First a father and a mother you must have beforne
	And a Chyld of them shall be conceived and borne
	For without a woman this thyng canot be doe
	But hyr helpe and worke must be ther unto
Son:	Quoth Merlyn to me yt ys gret mervel
	That womans helpe should there unto avail.
Fa:	May a Chyld wythout a woman into the world be brought
Son:	Nay truly quoth Merlyn that maye yt nought.
Fa:	Truly Son no more canst thou the Elixir make
	Except thou the helpe of a woman thereto take
	For thou mayst see in Scripture thee beforne
	How a Child of a Mother ys conceived and borne
	By a token thereof thou cannot misse
	For when the matrix of a woman receiving the sperme of Man
	The Chylde ys conceived soone and than
	The matrix of a woman closeth truly soe
	That no foule matter cometh then thereto
	And therfore take thou heede of thys ensample in the beginning,
	To close well the vessell, from any maner of thynge
	For if any Corrupcon come where the chylde ys
	It might never ingender then to be a man I wys
	No more shale truli thy work yf ani evil ayre come thereto
	And therefore close thy vessel well as thou shouldst doe
	That alle thie matter may therein abyde
	And not to go oute on never a side.
	Forty two dayes so let yt stand
	And then undoe it with thy hand
	For then ys the chyld borne and so forth brought.
Son:	Then sayde Merlyn thys understand I nought
	Who shall the chyldes father be.
Fa:	Silos son thus reade me
	And the moder Anul shalbe hyr name
Son:	And no Moder els quoth Merlyn but the same.
Fa:	Truly quoth Morien yt wyle non other be
	And theie schale dwelle in a lowe Cuntrie
	And in a stronge Citty welle walled aboute
	That theie of there Enimyes thereof schale have no doubt
	The Cuntrie ys full good ingresse
	The wych ys called Homogenes
	Artevallo thus call me the Citty [marg: Vitreolla]
	And the chylds name must be Mercury
Son:	How high be the walles of the saide Citte
	And what wydenes wyth in them maye be
Fa:	Five Sitigid it may be of wydenesse
	And but lide narrower thereto I gesse
	And one sedep of hight sediprimus [marg: 1½ height]
	And of the wydeness of five setigiderus.
Son:	Whereby live they quoth Merlyn
Fa:	Redrosman ys their meate and their drinke quoth Morien
	Whiles they dwelle in that Citte
	Those vittuals should wyth them be
	The Father in that Cittee shal dye
	But the moder shall live alway
	And when the Chyld ys borne of the Moder free
	Hee shalbe then brought out of the Cittee
	And then he shalbe washed wyth water warme
	So that the Chylde shalle take no harme
	Looke that thou wash hym in waters twelve [marg: 12 imbib]
	And keepe each water by yt selfe
	And the last water wilbe then cleere
	Without any foule matter
	And then hast thou a chylde fayre and bryght
	But then yt ys younge and hath no myght
	And then to make the Chyld hardy and stronge
	I shall thee teach ere yt be longe
	Fyrst thou must put hym to nourishying
	Yet know her well that schale have hym in keeping
	That she be of meane stature
	And alsoe bryght of Colour
	And looke that she be of body cleane and pure
	And also perfeit good and sure
	And looke that she be of a longe stature
	And not massy but in a meane measure
	And then take unto hyr Mercury the chylde
	And she shalle hym tayme if he be wylde
	And wyth hyr mylke she shalle make him white
	And then ys the Chylde of grete myght
	Untyll he hath byne where he was borne
	Wyth hys Moder let hym be alle naked
	[Space in MS indicating lacuna, confirmed by missing rhyme]
	And leave with hym both meate and drynke
	For default of famishing
	Soe by that tyme theie have dwelt there a long tyme
	The Son schale by his Moder lyen
	So that manie chyldren there schalbe borne
	That through default of hunger they schalbe forlorne
	And then take hym out of the Citty
	And wash them as cleane as they may be
	Untyll they be both faire and cleare
	Wyth fayre lukewarme water as I said whileere
	And thou put them to theire Gume and to none other
	The wych wyth Mercuryes fathers brother
	Twenty chyldren and foure and there ys the fyrst
	And altogether him list
	And so him XXV forth beare
	And put then to nourish as I sayde whileere
	And she schale keepe them faire and cleane
	As young children ought to byn
	Wyth her mylke wythin the towne wall
	Tyll death comyth and slayeth them all
	What is death quoth Merlyn I you pray
	It ys a change quothe Morien in fay
	Warme fire, What ys the towne wherein the chyld doth dwell.
	It ys fusion Son I doe the tell
	And yt would be full hygh in hyghnes
	From the grounde to sedeprions and no lesse
	ffor the hygher that she be
	The Kinder mylke have shall he
	ffor the mylke cometh out of the Ayre full sweete
	What is yt quoth Merlyn that would I faine weete
	It ys called Alkade without blame
	And Auaruse ys the Nurses name
	What shall alle the Chyldren dien
	Yea but one quoth Moryen shall tourne to lyfe againe
	Hoy may that be yt is marvel quoth Merlyn y wis
	Son quoth Moryen I shale thee say at this
	Thou shalt take the Chyldren from the Nurse true
	And thou shalt leade them to a Maister newe
	I but say me quoth Merlyn at this tyde
	How longe shale they wyth the Nurse abide
	Till they have eate their Gumme I reade
	And they shall dye for that same deede
	And when they are deade take them againe
	And put them unto a Master Physitian
	And ere nyne dayes be all ygone
	He schale make one chylde of alle them
	And the Maister shall give hym a new name
	The wych ys called or said foresiall in fame
Son:	What schale the Masters name be then quoth Merlyn
Fa:	Acoravenesa is a right wyse man [marg: vasa arenosa]
	And the towne wherein he doth dwell
	Ys called Scaforusa truly to tell [marg: furnace]
Son:	Yt ys a wonderous Medcen quoth Merlyn so mought I thryve
	That maketh againe the chylde to live
Fa:	It is Trofie a good monument
	Jesus to the chylde did sende
Son:	How longe schale thys Chyld with hys Master be
Fa:	Tyll he waxen nygh as hygh as he
	And then schale the chyld be wondrous bryght
	Faire and strong and of great myght
	He shalbe so furious and so strong and myghty
	That of bodyes he shall get the victory
	And turne them alle unto hys beames
	For he schalbe Kyng of seaven Realmes
	And also he schalbe a conqueror wyth the best
	Wherever that he goe either by East or West
	Hys fathers death recover shall he
	And tourne them unto the sayd degree
	Also all bodyes he wyll convert
	Into hys fadyr & modyr being in desert
	A thousand he wyll causen to be yelden in fyre
	And make them of hys fathers power
	Hee schall them make so strong of myght
	Against 2000 that they mought well fight
	And thus 3000 schalbe turned as I gesse
	Unto the Emperor Osmura hys on likeness
Son:	What ys that Emperour they lyken alle
Fa:	Mercury he hyght fryst and after forisiall [or "Soresiall"]
	and now ys called Osmura the Emperour
	For of alle bodyes he beareth the flower
Son:	Why maie not then the Emperour have a Queene
	Yes truly Almaga hyr name shall been
	And yet yt may be wrought as the other was
	And of the said matter and in the said place
	Thee same the besse a cage and do make deane
	And then unto the Emperour thou hast a Queene
	Of alle weomen she ys the flower
	And the most bryghtest of faire Colour
	And as the Emperour doeth so wyl she
	And be as good in hyr degree
	And thus much fruite of them may spring
	And yet all thys ys but on thyng
Son:	Yes quoth Merlyn fadyr and modyr ys two
Fa:	I quoth Moryen but I meane not so
	For truly thou maist change Silos in Anul sure
	And also you maist change Anul into Silos with a liquor
Son:	What is the liquor the fadyr I pray you tel me
Fa:	Vinagras Son thus call yt me
Son:	It ys marvell quoth Merlyn that yt should so doe
Fa:	Yet upon the fire white and red yt will be so
Son:	Then understand I amiss quoth Merlyn.
Fa:	Whie what meanest thou by Silos and anul Son.
Son:	Sol and Luna fadyr and non other
Fa:	Nay my son Sol ys but Silos brother
Son:	Aha quoth Merlyn now have I understanding
	ffor in thys ys more naturall workying
	ffadyr now thys Elixer ys illered
	May it not be multiplyed
Fa:	Yes quoth Moryen that yt maie
	Twelve tymes even in one day
	Take one parte he said of sorifiall
	And ten of sephider, ground small
	And XIII of Osmura or Almuya
	And do them together into a Arocamybusa
	and make Alcagi fire stronge and mighti power
	Arochite and more continually the space of an hower
	Then merke the lyon yt ys of collour sable
	Fie on hym for he ys nothing able
	And therefore set thyne heart and thie delight
	To gett the lyon that ys Collour white
	But most intyrely above every each one
	Take him that Colloured like the Carbuncle stone
	For that noble Lyon in especiall
	Of all other beasts he ys most Emperiall.

 

Some possible anagrammatical readings of words in this poem:

Form in text	Anagram of	Marginal Annotation
Silos	Solis
Anul	Luna
Artevallo	Olla vetra [vitrea]	Vitreolla
Sitigid	Digitis	Digitte
Sedep	Pedes
Setigiderus	Digiti (?)
Sedeprions	Sedes proni (?)
Soresiall	Sol realis (?)
Acoravenesa	Vasa arenoce	Vasa arenos
Scaforusa		Furnace