Chapter XIV: Prologue (3)

AUD. Upon the sides of fair mount Cephalon Have I two houses passing human skill: Of finest matter by Dame Nature wrought, Whose learned fingers have adorn'd the same With gorgeous porches of so strange a form, That they command the passengers to stay. The doors whereof in hospitality Nor day nor night are shut, but, open wide, Gently invite all comers; whereupon They are named the open ears of Cephalon. But lest some bolder sound should boldly rush, And break the nice composure of the work, The skilful builder wisely hath enrang'd An entry from each port with curious twines And crook'd meanders, like the labyrinth That Daedalus fram'd t'enclose the Minotaur; At th'end whereof is plac'd a costly portal, Resembling much the figure of a drum, Granting slow entrance to a private closet. Where daily, with a mallet in my hand, I set and frame all words and sounds that come Upon an anvil, and so make them fit For the periwinkling porch[286], that winding leads From my close chamber to your lordship's cell. Thither do I, chief justice of all accents, Psyche's next porter, Microcosm's front, Learning's rich treasure, bring discipline, Reason's discourse, knowledge of foreign states, Loud fame of great heroes' virtuous deeds; The marrow of grave speeches, and the flowers Of quickest wits, neat jests, and pure conceits; And oftentimes, to ease the heavy burthen Of government your lordship's shoulders bear, I thither do conduce the pleasing nuptials Of sweetest instruments with heavenly noise. If then Auditus have deserv'd the best, Let him be dignified before the rest.

COM. SEN. Auditus, I am almost a sceptic in this matter, scarce knowing which way the balance of the cause will decline. When I have heard the rest, I will despatch judgment; meanwhile, you may depart.

[AUDITUS _leads his show about the stage, and then goes out_.

SCAENA TERTIA.

COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORIA, PHANTASTES, ANAMNESTES, HEURESIS,
_as before_; OLFACTUS _in a garment of several flowers, a
page before him, bearing his target, his field Vert, a hound
Argent, two boys with casting-bottles[287], and two censers
with incense[288], another with a velvet cushion stuck with
flowers, another with a basket of herbs, another with a box
of ointment_. OLFACTUS _leads them about, and, making obeisance,
presents them before the Bench_.

1ST BOY. Your only way to make a good pomander[289] is this:--Take an ounce of the purest garden mould, cleansed and steeped seven days in change of motherless rosewater; then take the best ladanum, benzoine, both storaxes, ambergris, civet, and musk: incorporate them together, and work them into what form you please. This, if your breath be not too valiant, will make you smell as sweet as my lady's dog.

PHA. This boy, it should seem, represents Odour, he is so perfect a perfumer.

ODOUR. I do, my lord, and have at my command The smell of flowers and odoriferous drugs, Of ointments sweet and excellent perfumes, And courtlike waters, which if once you smell, You in your heart would wish, as I suppose, That all your body were transform'd to nose.

PHA. Olfactus, of all the Senses, your objects have the worst luck; they are always jarring with their contraries; for none can wear civet, but they are suspected of a proper bad scent[290]; whence the proverb springs, He smelleth best, that doth of nothing smell.

SCAENA QUARTA.

_The Bench and_ OLFACTUS, _as before_. TOBACCO, _apparelled in a
taffeta mantle, his arms brown and naked, buskins made of the
peeling of osiers, his neck bare, hung with Indian leaves, his
face brown, painted with blue stripes, in his nose swines' teeth,
on his head a painted wicker crown with tobacco-pipes set in it,
plumes of tobacco leaves, led by two Indian boys naked, with
tapers in their hands, tobacco-boxes, and pipes lighted_.

PHA. Foh, foh, what a smell is here! Is this one of your delightful objects?

OLF. It is your only scent in request, sir.

COM. SEN. What fiery fellow is that, which smokes so much in the mouth?

OLF. It is the great and puissant God of Tobacco.

TOB. _Ladoch guevarroh pufuer shelvaro baggon, Olfia di quanon, Indi cortilo vraggon_.

PHA. Ha, ha, ha, ha! this, in my opinion, is the tongue of the Antipodes.

MEM. No, I remember it very well, it was the language the Arcadians spake that lived long before the moon.

COM. SEN. What signifies it, Olfactus?

OLF. This is the mighty Emperor Tobacco, king of Trinidado, that, in being conquered, conquered all Europe, in making them pay tribute for their smoke.

TOB. _Erfronge inglues conde hesingo, Develin floscoth ma pu cocthingo_.

OLF. Expeller of catarrhs, banisher of all agues, your guts' only salve for the green wounds of a _non-plus_.

TOB. _All vulcam vercu, I parda pora si de gratam, ka famala mora, che Bauho respartera, quirara_.

OLF. Son to the god Vulcan and Tellus, kin to the father of mirth, called Bacchus.

TOB. _Viscardonok, pillostuphe, pascano tinaromagas, Pagi dagon stollisinfe, carocibato scribas_.

OLF. Genius of all swaggerers, professed enemy to physicians, sweet ointment for sour teeth, firm knot of good fellowship, adamant of company, swift wind to spread the wings of time, hated of none but those that know him not, and of so great deserts that, whoso is acquainted with him can hardly forsake him.

PHA. It seems these last words were very significant. I promise you, a god of great denomination; he may be my Lord Tappes for his large titles[291].

COM. SEN. But forward, Olfactus, as they have done before you, with your description?

OLF. Just in the midst of Cephalon's round face, As 'twere a frontispiece unto the hill, Olfactus' lodging built in figure long, Doubly disparted with two precious vaults, The roofs whereof most richly are enclos'd With orient pearls and sparkling diamonds Beset at th'end with emerauds and turchis[292], And rubies red and flaming chrysolites, At upper end whereof, in costly manner, I lay my head between two spongeous pillows, Like fair Adonis 'twixt the paps of Venus, Where I, conducting in and out the wind, Daily examine all the air inspir'd By my pure searching, if that it be pure, And fit to serve the lungs with lively breath: Hence do I likewise minister perfume[s] Unto the neighbour brain--perfumes of force To cleanse your head, and make your fancy bright, To refine wit and sharp[293] invention, And strengthen memory: from whence it came, That old devotion incense did ordain To make man's spirit more apt for things divine. Besides a thousand more commodities, In lieu whereof your lordships I request, Give me the crown, if I deserve it best.

[OLFACTUS _leads his company about the stage, and goes out_.

SCAENA QUINTA.

_The Bench as before. A page with a shield Argent, an ape proper
with an apple; then_ GUSTUS _with a cornucopia in his hand_.
BACCHUS _in a garland of leaves and grapes, a white suit, and
over it a thin sarcenet to his foot, in his hand a spear wreathed
with vine leaves, on his arm a target with a tiger_. CERES _with a
crown of ears of corn, in a yellow silk robe, a bunch of poppy in
her hand, a scutcheon charged with a dragon_.

COM. SEN. In good time, Gustus. Have you brought your objects?

GUS. My servant Appetitus followeth with them.

APP. Come, come, Bacchus, you are so fat; enter, enter.

PHA. Fie, fie, Gustus! this is a great indecorum to bring Bacchus alone; you should have made Thirst lead him by the hand.

GUS. Right, sir; but men nowadays drink often when they be not dry; besides, I could not get red herrings and dried neats' tongues enough to apparel him in.

COM. SEN. What, never a speech of him?

GUS. I put an octave of iambics in his mouth, and he hath drunk it down.

APP. Well done, muscadine and eggs stand hot. What, buttered claret? go thy way, thou hadst best; for blind men that cannot see how wickedly thou look'st--How now, what small, thin fellow are you here? ha?

BOY. Beer, forsooth: Beer, forsooth.

APP. Beer forsooth, get you gone to the buttery, till I call for you; you are none of Bacchus's attendants, I am sure; he cannot endure the smell of malt. Where's Ceres? O, well, well, is the march-pane broken? Ill luck, ill luck! Come hang't, never stand to set it together again. Serve out fruit there.

[_Enter boys with a banquet, marmalade, sweets, &c.;
deliver it round among the gentlewomen, and go out_.]

What, do you come with roast-meat after apples? Away with it. Digestion, serve out cheese. What, but a pennyworth! It is just the measure of his nose that sold it! Lamb's wool, the meekest meat in the world; 'twill let any man fleece it. Snapdragon there!

MEM. O, I remember this dish well: it was first invented by Pluto, to entertain Proserpina withal.

PHA. I think not so, Memory; for when Hercules had killed the flaming dragon of Hesperia with the apples of that orchard, he made this fiery meat; in memory whereof he named it Snapdragon.

COM. SEN. Gustus, let's hear your description?

GUS. Near to the lowly base of Cephalon, My house is plac'd not much unlike a cave: Yet arch'd above by wondrous workmanship, With hewen stones wrought smoother and more fine Than jet or marble fair from Iceland brought. Over the door directly doth incline A fair percullis of compacture strong, To shut out all that may annoy the state Or health of Microcosm; and within Is spread a long board like a pliant tongue, At which I hourly sit, and trial take Of meats and drinks needful and delectable: Twice every day do I provision make For the sumptuous kitchen of the commonwealth; Which, once well-boil'd, is soon distributed To all the members, well refreshing them With good supply of strength-renewing food. Should I neglect this nursing[294] diligence, The body of the realm would ruinate; Yourself, my lord, with all your policies And wondrous wit, could not preserve yourself: Nor you, Phantastes; nor you, Memory. Psyche herself, were't not that I repair Her crazy house with props of nourishment, Would soon forsake us: for whose dearest sake Many a grievous pain have I sustain'd By bitter pills and sour purgations; Which if I had not valiantly abiden, She had been long ere this departed. Since the whole Microcosm I maintain, Let me, as Prince, above the Senses reign.

COM. SEN. The reasons you urge, Gustus, breed a new doubt, whether it be commodious or necessary, the resolution whereof I refer to your judgment, licensing you meanwhile to depart.

[GUSTUS _leads his show about the stage, and goes out_.

SCAENA SEXTA.

_The Bench as before_; TACTUS, _a page before him
bearing his scutcheon, a tortoise Sable_.

TAC. Ready anon, forsooth! the devil she will! Who would be toil'd with wenches in a show?

COM. SEN. Why in such anger, Tactus? what's the matter?

TAC. My lord, I had thought, as other Senses did, By sight of objects to have prov'd my worth; Wherefore considering that, of all the things That please me most, women are counted chief, I had thought to have represented in my show The queen of pleasure, Venus and her son, Leading a gentleman enamoured With his sweet touching of his mistress' lips, And gentle griping of her tender hands, And divers pleasant relishes of touch, Yet all contained in the bounds of chastity.

PHA. Tactus, of all I long to see your objects; How comes it we have lost those pretty sports?

TAC. Thus 'tis: five hours ago I set a dozen maids to attire a boy like a nice gentlewoman; but there is such doing with their looking-glasses, pinning, unpinning, setting, unsetting, formings and conformings; painting blue veins and cheeks; such stir with sticks and combs, cascanets, dressings, purls, falls, squares, busks, bodies, scarfs, necklaces, carcanets, rebatoes, borders, tires, fans, palisadoes, puffs, ruffs, cuffs, muffs, pusles, fusles, partlets, frislets, bandlets, fillets, crosslets, pendulets, amulets, annulets, bracelets, and so many lets, that yet she's scarce dressed to the girdle; and now there is such calling for fardingales, kirtles, busk-points, shoe-ties, &c., that seven pedlars' shops--nay, all Stourbridge fair, will scarce furnish her. A ship is sooner rigged by far, than a gentlewoman made ready.

PHA. 'Tis strange that women, being so mutable, Will never change in changing their apparel.

COM. SEN. Well, let them pass; Tactus, we are content To know your dignity by relation.

TAC. The instrument of instruments, the hand, Courtesy's index, chamberlain to nature, The body's soldier, and mouth's caterer, Psyche's great secretary, the dumb's eloquence, The blind man's candle, and his forehead's buckler, The minister of wrath, and friendship's sign, This is my instrument: nevertheless my power Extends itself far as our queen commands, Through all the parts and climes of Microcosm. I am the root of life, spreading my virtue By sinews, that extend from head to foot To every living part. For as a subtle spider, closely sitting In centre of her web that spreadeth round, If the least fly but touch the smallest thread, She feels it instantly; so doth myself, Casting my slender nerves and sundry nets O'er every particle of all the body, By proper skill perceive the difference Of several qualities, hot, cold, moist, and dry; Hard, soft, rough, smooth, clammy, and slippery: Sweet pleasure and sharp pain profitable, That makes us (wounded) seek for remedy. By these means do I teach the body fly From such bad things as may endanger it. A wall of brass can be no more defence Unto a town than I to Microcosm. Tell me what Sense is not beholden to me? The nose is hot or cold, the eyes do weep, The ears do feel, the taste's a kind of touching: Thus, when I please, I can command them all, And make them tremble, when I threaten them. I am the eldest and biggest of all the rest, The chiefest note and first distinction Betwixt a living tree and living beast; For though one hear and see, and smell and taste, If he wants touch, he is counted but a block. Therefore, my lord, grant me the royalty; Of whom there is such great necessity.

COM. SEN. Tactus, stand aside. You, sirrah Anamnestes, tell the Senses we expect their appearance.

ANA. At your lordship's pleasure.

[_Exit_ ANAMNESTES.

SCAENA SEPTIMA.

COMMUNIS SENSUS, PHANTASTES, MEMORIA, HEURESIS, ANAMNESTES,
_upon the Bench consulting among themselves. _VISUS, AUDITUS,
TACTUS, GUSTUS, _and_ OLFACTUS, _every one with his shield
upon his arm_. LINGUA, _and_ MENDACIO _with them_.

COM. SEN. Though you deserve no small punishment for these uproars, yet at the request of these my assistants I remit it; and by the power of judgment our gracious sovereign Psyche hath given me, thus I determine of your controversies: hum! By your former objects, instruments and reasons, I conceive the state of sense to be divided into two parts; one of commodity, the other of necessity; both which are either for our queen or for our country; but as the soul is more excellent than the body, so are the Senses that profit the soul to be estimated before those that are needful for the body. Visus and Auditus, serve yourselves. Master Register, give me the crown; because it is better to be well, than simply to be, therefore I judge the crown by right to belong to you of the commodity's part, and the robe to you of the necessity's side: and since you, Visus, are the author of invention, and you, Auditus, of increase and addition to the same, seeing it is more excellent to invent than to augment, I establish you, Visus, the better of the two, and chief of all the rest: in token whereof I bestow upon you this crown, to wear at your liberty.

VIS. I most humbly thank your lordships.

COM. SEN. But lest I should seem to neglect you, Auditus, I here choose you to be the lord intelligencer to Psyche her majesty: and you, Olfactus, we bestow upon you the chief priesthood of Microcosm, perpetually to offer incense in her majesty's temple. As for you, Tactus, upon your reasons alleged I bestow upon you the robe.

TAC. I accept it most gratefully at your just hands, and will wear it in the dear remembrance of your good lordship.

COM. SEN. And lastly, Gustus, we elect you Psyche's only taster, and great purveyor for all her dominions both by sea and land, in her realm of Microcosm.

GUS. We thank your lordship, and rest well content with equal arbitrament.

COM. SEN. Now for you, Lingua.

LIN. I beseech your honour, let me speak; I will neither trouble the company, nor offend your patience.

COM. SEN. I cannot stay so long; we have consulted about you, and find your cause to stand upon these terms and conditions. The number of the Senses in this world is answerable to the first[295] bodies in the great world: now, since there be but fire in the universe, the four elements and the pure substance of the heavens, therefore there can be but five Senses in our Microcosm, correspondent to those; as the sight to the heavens, hearing to the air, touching to the earth, smelling to the fire, tasting to the water, by which five means only the understanding is able to apprehend the knowledge of all corporeal substances: wherefore we judge you to be no sense simply: only thus much we from henceforth pronounce, that all women for your sake shall have six senses--that is, seeing hearing, tasting, smelling, touching, and the last and feminine sense, the sense of speaking.

GUS. I beseech your lordship and your assistants (the only cause of our friendship) to grace my table with your most welcome presence this night at supper.

COM. SEN. I am sorry I cannot stay with you: you know we may by no means omit our daily attendance at the court, therefore I pray you pardon us.

GUS. I hope I shall not have the denial at your hands, my masters, and you, my Lady Lingua. Come, let us drown all our anger in a bowl of hippocras[296].

[_Exeunt_ SENSUS _omnes exteriores_.

COM. SEN. Come, Master Register, shall we walk?

MEM. I pray you, stay a little. Let me see! ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

PHA. How now, Memory, so merry? what, do you trouble yourself with two palsies at once, shaking and laughing?

MEM. 'Tis a strange thing that men will so confidently oppose themselves against Plato's great year.

PHA. Why not?

MEM. 'Tis as true an opinion as need be; for I remember it very readily now, that this time 49,000 years ago all we were in this very place, and your lordship judged the very same controversy, after the very same manner, in all respects and circumstances alike.

COM. SEN. 'Tis wondrous strange.

ANA. By the same token you held your staff in your right hand, just as you do now; and Master Phantastes stood wondering at you, gaping as wide as you see him.

PHA. Ay, but I did not give you a box on the ear, sirrah, 49,000 years ago, did I? [_Snap_.]

ANA. I do not remember that, sir.

PHA. This time Plato's twelvemonth to come, look you save your cheeks better.

COM. SEN. But what entertainment had we at court for our long staying?

MEM. Let's go, I'll tell you as we walk.

PHA. If I do not seem pranker[297] now than I did in those days, I'll be hanged.

[_Exeunt omnes interiores Sensus: manet_ LINGUA.

SCAENA OCTAVA.

LINGUA, MENDACIO.

LIN. Why, this is good. By Common Sense's means, Lingua, thou hast fram'd a perfect comedy. They are all good friends, whom thou mad'st enemies; And I am half a Sense: a sweet piece of service, I promise you, a fair step to preferment! Was this the care and labour thou hast taken To bring thy foes together to a banquet, To lose thy crown, and be deluded thus! Well, now I see my cause is desperate, The judgment's pass'd, sentence irrevocable, Therefore I'll be content and clap my hands, And give a plaudite to their proceedings. What, shall I leave my hate begun unperfect? So foully vanquish'd by the spiteful Senses! Shall I, the embassadress of gods and men, That pull'd proud Phoebe from her brightsome sphere, And dark'd Apollo's countenance with a word, Raising at pleasure storms, and winds, and earthquakes, Be overcrow'd, and breathe without revenge? Yet they forsooth, base slaves, must be preferred, And deck themselves with my right ornaments. Doth the all-knowing Phoebus see this shame Without redress? will not the heavens help me? Then shall hell do it; my enchanting tongue Can mount the skies, and in a moment fall From the pole arctic to dark Acheron. I'll make them know mine anger is not spent; Lingua hath power to hurt, and will to do it. Mendacio, come hither quickly, sirrah.

MEN. Madam.

LIN. Hark, hither in thine ear.

MEN. Why do you whisht[298] thus? here's none to hear you.

LIN. I dare not trust these secrets to the earth, E'er since she brought forth reeds, whose babbling noise Told all the world of Midas' ass's ears. [_She whispers him in the ear_.] Dost understand me?

MEN. Ay, ay, ay--never fear that--there's a jest indeed-- Pish, pish--madam--do you think me so foolish?--Tut, tut, doubt not.

LIN. Tell her, if she do not--

MEN. Why do you make any question of it?--what a stir is here--I warrant you--presently! [_Exit_ MENDACIO.

LIN. Well, I'll to supper, and so closely cover The rusty canker of mine iron spite With golden foil of goodly semblances. But if I do not trounce them--

[_Exit_ LINGUA.

ACTUS QUINTUS, SCAENA PRIMA.

MENDACIO, _with a bottle in his hand_.

MEN. My Lady Lingua is just like one of these lean-witted comedians who, disturbing all to the fifth act, bring down some Mercury or Jupiter in an engine to make all friends: so she, but in a contrary manner, seeing her former plots dispurposed, sends me to an old witch called Acrasia to help to wreak her spite upon the Senses. The old hag, after many an encircled circumstance, and often naming of the direful Hecate and Demogorgon. gives me this bottle of wine, mingled with such hellish drugs and forcible words that, whosoever drinks of it shall be presently possessed with an enraged and mad kind of anger.

SCAENA SECUNDA.

MENDACIO, CRAPULA, APPETITUS _crying_.

MEN. What's this, Crapula beating Appetitus out of doors? ha?

CRA. You filthy long crane, you mean slave, will you kill your guests with blowing continual hunger in them? The Senses have overcharged their stomachs already, and you, sirrah, serve them up a fresh appetite with every new dish. They had burst their guts if thou hadst stayed but a thought longer. Begone, or I'll set thee away; begone, ye gnaw-bone, raw-bone rascal![299] [_Beats him_.

MEN. Then my device is clean spoiled. Appetitus should have been as the bowl to present this medicine to the Senses, and now Crapula hath beaten him out of doors; what shall I do? [_Aside_.]

CRA. Away, sirrah. [_Beats him_.

APP. Well, Crapula, well; I have deserved better at your hands than so. I was the man, you know, first brought you into Gustus's service. I lined your guts there, and you use me thus? but grease a fat sow, &c.

CRA. Dost thou talk? Hence, hence; avaunt, cur; avaunt, you dog!
[_Exit_ CRAPULA.

APP. The belching gorbelly[300] hath well-nigh killed me; I am shut out of doors finely. Well, this is my comfort, I may walk now in liberty at my own pleasure.

MEN. Appetitus, Appetitus!

APP. Ah, Mendacio, Mendacio!

MEN. Why, how now, man, how now? how is't? canst not speak?

APP. Faith, I am like a bagpipe, that never sounds but when the belly is full.

MEN. Thou empty, and com'st from a feast?

APP. From a fray. I tell thee, Mendacio, I am now just like the ewe that gave suck to a wolf's whelp; I have nursed up my fellow Crapula so long, that he's grown strong enough to beat me.

MEN. And whither wilt thou go, now thou art banished out of service?

APP. Faith, I'll travel to some college or other in an university.

MEN. Why so?

APP. Because Appetitus is well-beloved amongst scholars, for there I can dine and sup with them, and rise again as good friends as we sat down. I'll thither, questionless.

MEN. Hear'st thou? give me thy hand. By this, I love thee: go to, then. Thou shalt not forsake thy masters thus, I say thou shalt not.

APP. Alas! I am very loth; but how should I help it?

MEN. Why, take this bottle of wine, come on; go thy ways to them again.

APP. Ha, ha, ha! what good will this do?

MEN. This is the Nepenthe that reconciles the gods. Do but let the Senses taste of it, and fear not, they'll love thee as well as ever they did.

APP. I pray thee, where hadst it?

MEN. My lady gave it me to bring her. Mercury stole it from Hebe for her. Thou knowest there were some jars betwixt her and thy masters, and with this drink she would gladly wash out all the relics of their disagreement. Now, because I love thee, thou shalt have the grace of presenting it to them, and so come in favour again.

APP. It smells well. I would fain begin to them.

MEN. Nay, stay no longer, lest they have supped before thou come.

APP. Mendacio, how shall I requite thy infinite courtesy?

MEN. Nay, pray thee leave, go catch occasion by the foretop. But hear'st thou? As soon as it is presented, round[301] my Lady Lingua in the ear, and tell her of it.

APP. I will, I will: adieu, adieu, adieu.

[_Exit_ APPETITUS.

SCAENA TERTIA.

MENDACIO _solus_.

MEN. Why. this is better than I could have wish'd it; Fortune, I think, is fallen in love with me, Answering so right my expectation. By this time Appetite is at the table, And with a lowly cringe presents the wine To his old master Gustus; now he takes it, And drinks, perchance, to Lingua; she craftily Kisses the cup, but lets not down a drop, And gives it to the rest: 'tis sweet, they'll swallow it: But when 'tis once descended to the stomach, And sends up noisome vapours to the brain, 'Twill make them swagger gallantly; they'll rage Most strangely, or Acrasia's art deceives her; When if my lady stir her nimble tongue, And closely sow contentious words amongst them, O, what a stabbing there will be! what bleeding!

SCAENA QUARTA.

LINGUA, MENDACIO.

LIN. What, art thou there, Mendacio? pretty rascal! Come let me kiss thee for thy good deserts.

MEN. Madam, does't take? Have they all tasted it?

LIN. All, all, and all are well-nigh mad already. O, how they stare and swear, and fume, and brawl! Wrath gives them weapons; pots and candlesticks, Joint stools and trenchers, fly about the room, Like to the bloody banquet of the centaurs. But all the sport's to see what several thoughts The potion works in their imaginations. For Visus thinks himself a ----, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

SCAENA QUINTA.

APPETITUS, MENDACIO, LINGUA.

APP. So ho, Mendacio! so ho, so ho!

MEN. Madam, I doubt they come; yonder is Appetitus. You had best be gone, lest in their outrage they should injure you. [_Exit_ LINGUA.] How now, Hunger? How dost thou, my fine maypole, ha?

APP. I may well be called a maypole, for the Senses do nothing but dance a morrice about me.

MEN. Why, what ails them? Are they not (as I promised thee) friends with thee?

APP. Friends with me! nay, rather frenzy. I never knew them in such a case in all my life.

MEN. Sure, they drank too much, and are mad for love of thee.

APP. They want Common Sense amongst them. There's such a hurlyburly. Auditus is stark deaf, and wonders why men speak so softly that he cannot hear them. Visus hath drunk himself stark blind, and therefore imagineth himself to be Polyphemus. Tactus is raging mad, and cannot be otherwise persuaded but he is Hercules _furens_. There's such conceits amongst them.

SCAENA SEXTA.

VISUS, APPETITUS, MENDACIO.

VIS. O, that I could but find the villain Outis[302], Outis the villain, that thus blinded me!

MEN. Who is this? Visus?

APP. Ay, ay, ay; otherwise called Polyphemus.

VIS. By heaven's bright sun, the day's most glorious eye, That lighteneth all the world but Polypheme. And by mine eye, that once was answerable Unto that sun, but now's extinguished--

MEN. He can see to swear, methinks.

VIS. If I but once lay hands upon the slave, That thus hath robb'd me of my dearest jewel, I'll rend the miscreant to a thousand pieces, And gnash his trembling members 'twixt my teeth, Drinking his live-warm blood to satisfy The boiling thirst of pain and furiousness, That thus exasperates great Polypheme.

MEN. Pray thee, Appetitus, see how he grasps for that he would be loth to find.

APP. What's that? a stumblingblock?

VIS. These hands, that whilom tore up sturdy oaks, And rent the rock that dash'd out Acis' brains, Bath'd[303] in the stole bliss of my Galatea, Serve now (O misery!) to no better use, But for bad guides to my unskilful feet, Never accustom'd thus to be directed.

MEN. As I am a rogue, he wants nothing but a wheel to make him the true picture of fortune; how say'st? what, shall we play at blind-man's-buff with him?

APP. Ay, if thou wilt; but first I'll try whether he can see?

VIS. Find me out Outis, search the rocks and woods, The hills and dales, and all the coasts adjoining, That I may have him, and revenge my wrong.

APP. Visus, methinks your eyes are well enough.

VIS. What's he that calls me Visus? dost not know--

[_They run about him, playing with him, and abusing him_.

APP. To him, Mendacio, to him, to him.

MEN. There, there, Appetitus, he comes, he comes; ware, ware, he comes; ha, ha, ha, ha!

[VISUS _stumbles, falls down, and sits still_.

SCAENA SEPTIMA.

MENDACIO, APPETITUS, TACTUS, _with a great blackjack in his hand_.

MEN. Is this he that thinks himself Hercules?

APP. Ay, wilt see me outswagger him?

MEN. Ay, do, do; I love not to sport with such mad playfellows: tickle him, Appetitus; tickle him, tickle him. [_Exit_ MENDACIO.

TAC. Have I not here the great and puissant club, Wherewith I conquer'd three-chapp'd Cerberus?

APP. Have I not here the sharp and warlike teeth, That at one breakfast quail'd thrice-three hogs' faces?

TAC. And are not these Alcides' brawny arms, That rent the lion's jaws, and kill'd the boar?

APP. And is not this the stomach that defeated Nine yards of pudding and a rank[304] of pies?

TAC. Did not I crop the sevenfold hydra's crest, And with a river cleans'd Augaea's stable?

APP. Did not I crush a sevenfold custard's crust, And with my tongue swept a well-furnish'd table?

TAC. Did not these feet and hands o'ertake and slay The nimble stag and fierce impetuous bull?

APP. Did not this throat at one good meal devour That stag's sweet venison and that strong bull's beef?

TAC. Shall Hercules be thus disparaged? Juno! you pouting quean, you louring trull, Take heed I take you not; for by Jove's thunder I'll be reveng'd.

[APPETITUS _draws_ VISUS _backward from_ TACTUS.

APP. Why, Visus, Visus, will you be kill'd? away, away.

[_Exit_ VISUS.

TAC. Who have we here? see, see, the giant Cacus Draws an ox backward to his thievish den. Hath this device so long deluded me? Monster of men, Cacus, restore my cattle, Or instantly I'll crush thy idle coxcomb, And dash thy doltish brains against thy cave.

APP. Cacus! I Cacus? ha, ha, ha! Tactus, you mistake me; I am yours to command, Appetitus.

TAC. Art Appetitus? Th'art so; run quickly, villain; Fetch a whole ox to satisfy my stomach.

APP. Fetch an ass to keep you company.

TAC. Then down to hell: tell Pluto, prince of devils, That great Alcides wants a kitchen wench To turn his spit. Command him from myself To send up Proserpine; she'll serve the turn.

APP. I must find you meat, and the devil find you cooks! Which is the next[305] way?

TAC. Follow the beaten path, thou canst not miss it. 'Tis a wide causeway that conducteth thither, An easy track, and down-hill all the way. But if the black prince will not send her quickly, But still detain her for his bedfellow, Tell him I'll drag him from his iron chair By the steel tresses, and then sew him fast With the three furies in a leathern bag, And thus will drown them in the ocean. _He pours the jack of beer upon_ APPETITUS.

APP. You had better keep him alive to light tobacco-pipes, or to sweep chimneys.

TAC. Art thou not gone? nay, then I'll send thy soul Before thee; 'twill do thy message sooner. [_Beats him_.

APP. Hercules, Hercules, Hercules! do not you hear Omphale? hark how she calls you, hark!

TAC. 'Tis she indeed, I know her sugar'd voice: Omphale, dear commandress of my life, My thoughts' repose, sweet centre of my cares, Where all my hopes and best desires take rest. Lo! where the mighty son of Jupiter Throws himself captive at your conquering feet! Do not disdain my voluntary humbleness: Accept my service, bless me with commanding. I will perform the hardest imposition, And run through twelve new labours for thy sake. Omphale, dear commandress of my life.

APP. Do you not see how she beckons to you to follow her? Look how she holds her distaff, look ye?

TAC. Where is she gone, that I may follow her? Omphale, stay, stay, take thy Hercules!

APP. There, there, man, you are right.

[_Exit_ TACTUS.

SCAENA OCTAVA.

APPETITUS _solus_.

APP. What a strange temper are the Senses in! How come their wits thus topsy-turvy turn'd? Hercules Tactus, Visus Polypheme! Two goodly surnames have they purchased. By the rare ambrosia[306] of an oyster-pie, They have got such proud imaginations, That I could wish I were mad for company: But since my fortunes cannot stretch so high, I'll rest contented with this wise estate.

SCAENA NONA.

APPETITUS: [_to him enter_] AUDITUS _with a candlestick_.

APP. What, more anger? Auditus got abroad too?

AUD. Take this abuse at base Olfactus' hands? What, did he challenge me to meet me here, And is not come? well, I'll proclaim the slave The vilest dastard that e'er broke his word. But stay, yonder's Appetitus.

APP. I pray you, Auditus, what ails you?

AUD. Ha, ha!

APP. What ails you?

AUD. Ha! what say'st thou?

APP. Who hath abused you thus?

AUD. Why dost thou whisper thus? Canst not speak out?

APP. Save me, I had clean forgotten. Why are you so angry, Auditus?

AUD. Bite us! who dare bite us?

APP. I talk of no biting; I say, what's the matter between Olfactus and you?

AUD. Will Olfactus bite me? do, if he dares; would he would meet me here according to his promise! Mine ears are somewhat thick of late; I pray thee, speak out louder.

APP. Ha, ha, ha, ha! this is fine, i'faith: ha, ha, ha! Hear you, have you lost your ears at supper?

AUD. Excellent cheer at supper, I confess it; But when 'tis sauc'd with sour contentions, And breeds such quarrels, 'tis intolerable.

APP. Pish, pish, this is my question: hath your supper spoiled your hearing?

AUD. Hearing at supper? tell not me of hearing? But if thou saw'st Olfactus, bring me to him.

APP. I ask you, whether you have lost your hearing?

AUD. O, dost thou hear them ring? what a grief is this Thus to be deaf, and lose such harmony. Wretched Auditus, now shalt thou never hear The pleasing changes that a well-tun'd chord Of trolling bells will make, when they are rung.

APP. Here's ado indeed! I think he's mad, as well as drunk or deaf.

AUD. Ha, what's that?

APP. I say you have made me hoarse with speaking so loud.

AUD. Ha, what say'st thou of a creaking crowd?[307]

APP. I am hoarse, I tell you, and my head aches.

AUD. O, I understand thee! the first crowd was made of a horse-head. 'Tis true, the finding of a dead horse-head Was the first invention of string instruments, Whence rose the gittern, viol, and the lute: Though others think the lute was first devis'd In imitation of a tortoise-back, Whose sinews, parched by Apollo's beams, Echo'd about the concave of the shell: And seeing the shortest and smallest gave shrill'st sound, They found out frets, whose sweet diversity (Well-touched by the skilful learned fingers) Raiseth so strange a multitude of chords. Which their opinion many do confirm, Because Testado signifies a lute. But if I by no means--

APP. Nay, if you begin to critic once, we shall never have done.

[_Exit_ APPETITUS, _and carries away_ AUDITUS _perforce_.

SCAENA DECIMA.

CRAPULA, _a fat-bellied slave, clothed in a light veil of
sarsanet, a garland of vine-leaves on his head, &c_. SOMNUS
_in a mantle of black cobweb lawn down to the foot, over a
dusky-coloured taffeta coat, and a crown of poppy-tops on
his head, a company of dark-coloured silk scarfs in one hand,
a mace of poppy in the other, leaving his head upon a pillow
on_ CRAPULA'S _shoulders_.

CRA. Somnus, good Somnus, sweet Somnus, come apace!

SOM. Eh, O, O; are you sure they be so? oho, oho, oho; eh, waw? What good can I do? ou, hoh, haw.

CRA. Why, I tell you, unless you help-- [SOMNUS _falls down and sleeps_. Soft son of night, right heir to quietness, Labour's repose, life's best restorative, Digestion's careful nurse, blood's comforter, Wit's help, thought's charm, the stay of Microcosm, Sweet Somnus, chiefest enemy to care: My dearest friend, lift up thy lumpish head, Ope thy dull eyes, shake off this drowsiness, Rouse up thyself.

SOM. O Crapula, how now, how now! O, O, how; who's there? Crapula, speak quickly, what's the matter?

CRA. As I told you, the noble Senses, peers of Microcosm, Will eftsoon fall to ruin perpetual. Unless your ready helping-hand recure them. Lately they banqueted at Gustus' table, And there fell mad or drunk, I know not whether; So that it's doubtful in these outrageous fits, That they'll murder one another.

SOM. Fear it not. If they have 'scap'd already, bring me to them Or them to me; I'll quickly make them know The power of my large-stretched authority. These cords of sleep, wherewith I wont to bind The strongest arm that e'er resisted me, Shall be the means whereby I will correct The Senses' outrage and distemperature.

CRA. Thanks, gentle Somnus, I'll go seek them out, And bring them to you soon as possible.

SOM. Despatch it quickly, lest I fall asleep for want of work.

CRA. Stand still, stand still! Visus, I think, comes yonder. If you think good, begin and bind him first; For, he made fast, the rest will soon be quiet.

[_Exit_ CRAPULA.

SCAENA UNDECIMA.

VISUS, SOMNUS.

VIS. Sage Telemus, I now too late admire Thy deep foresight and skill in prophecy, Who whilom told'st me, that in time to come Ulysses should deprive me of my sight. And now the slave, that march'd in Outis' name, Is prov'd Ulysses; and by this device Hath 'scap'd my hands, and fled away by sea, Leaving me desolate in eternal night. Ah, wretched Polypheme! where's all thy hope, And longing for thy beauteous Galatea? She scorn'd thee once, but now she will detest And loathe to look upon thy dark'ned face; Ah me, most miserable Polyphemus! But as for Ulysses, heaven and earth Send vengeance ever on thy damned head, In just revenge of my great injury! [SOMNUS _binds him_. Who is he that dares to touch me? Cyclops, come, Come, all ye Cyclops, help to rescue me. [SOMNUS _charms him; he sleeps_.

SOM. There rest thyself, and let thy quiet sleep Restore thy weak imaginations.

SCAENA DUODECIMA.

LINGUA, SOMNUS, VISUS.

LIN. Ha, ha, ha! O, how my spleen is tickled with this sport The madding Senses make about the woods! It cheers my soul, and makes my body fat, To laugh at their mischances: ha, ha, ha, ha! Heigho, the stitch hath caught me: O, my heart! Would I had one to hold my sides awhile, That I might laugh afresh: O, how they run, And chafe, and swear, and threaten one another! [SOMNUS _binds her_. Ay me, out, alas! ay me, help, help, who's this that binds me? Help, Mendacio! Mendacio, help! Here's one will ravish me.

SOM. Lingua, content yourself, you must be bound.

LIN. What a spite's this? Are my nails pared so near? Can I not scratch his eyes out? What have I done? What, do you mean to kill me? Murder, murder, murder!

[_She falls asleep_.

SCAENA DECIMA TERTIA.

GUSTUS, _with a voiding knife[308] in his hand_.
SOMNUS, LINGUA, VISUS.

GUS. Who cries out murder? What, a woman slain! My Lady Lingua dead? O heavens unjust! Can you behold this fact, this bloody fact, And shower not fire upon the murderer? Ah, peerless Lingua! mistress of heavenly words, Sweet tongue of eloquence, the life of fame, Heart's dear enchantress! What disaster, fates, Hath reft this jewel from our commonwealth? Gustus, the ruby that adorns the ring, Lo, here defect, how shalt thou lead thy days, Wanting the sweet companion of thy life, But in dark sorrow and dull melancholy? But stay, who's this? inhuman wretch! Bloodthirsty miscreant! is this thy handiwork? To kill a woman, a harmless lady? Villain, prepare thyself; Draw, or I'll sheathe my falchion in thy sides. There, take the guerdon[309] fit for murderers.

[GUSTUS _offers to run at_ SOMNUS, _but being
suddenly charmed, falls asleep_.

SOM. Here's such a stir, I never knew the Senses in such disorder.

LIN. Ha, ha, ha! Mendacio, Mendacio! See how Visus hath broke his forehead against the oak yonder, ha, ha, ha!

SOM. How now? is not Lingua bound sufficiently? I have more trouble to make one woman sleep than all the world besides; they are so full of tattle.

SCAENA DECIMA QUARTA.

SOMNUS, CRAPULA, LINGUA, VISUS, GUSTUS, AUDITUS _pulling_ OLFACTUS
_by the nose, and_ OLFACTUS _wringing_ AUDITUS _by the ears_.

AUD. O, mine ears, mine ears, mine ears!

OLF. O, my nose, my nose, my nose!

CRA. Leave, leave, at length, these base contentions: Olfactus, let him go.

OLF. Let him first loose my nose.

CRA. Good Auditus, give over.

AUD. I'll have his life that sought to kill me.

SOM. Come, come, I'll end this quarrel; bind them[310], Crapula.

[_They bind them both_.

SCAENA DECIMA QUINTA.

TACTUS, _with the robe in his hand_, SOMNUS,
CRAPULA, LINGUA, GUSTUS, OLFACTUS VISUS, AUDITUS.

TAC. Thanks, Dejanira, for thy kind remembrance, 'Tis a fair shirt: I'll wear it for thy sake.

CRA. Somnus, here's Tactus, worse than all his fellows: Stay but awhile, and you shall see him rage!

SOM. What will he do? see that he escapes us not.

TAC. 'Tis a good shirt: it fits me passing well: 'Tis very warm indeed: but what's the matter? Methinks I am somewhat hotter than I was, My heart beats faster than 'twas wont to do, My brain's inflam'd, my temples ache extremely; O, O! O, what a wildfire creeps among my bowels! Aetna's within my breast, my marrow fries, And runs about my bones; O my sides! O my sides! My sides, my reins: my head, my reins, my head! My heart, my heart: my liver, my liver, O! I burn, I burn, I burn; O, how I burn With scorching heat of implacable fire! I burn extreme with flames insufferable.

SOM. Sure he doth but try how to act Hercules.

TAC. Is it this shirt that boils me thus? O heavens! It fires me worse, and heats more furiously Than Jove's dire thunderbolts! O miserable! They bide less pain that bathe in Phlegeton! Could not the triple kingdom of the world, Heaven, earth, and hell, destroy great Hercules? Could not the damned spite[311] of hateful Juno, Nor the great dangers of my labours kill me? Am I the mighty son of Jupiter, And shall this poison'd linen thus consume me? Shall I be burnt? Villains, fly up to heaven, Bid Iris muster up a troop of clouds, And shower down cataracts of rain to cool me; Or else I'll break her speckled bow in pieces. Will she not? no, she hates me like her mistress. Why then descend, you rogues, to the vile deep. Fetch Neptune hither: charge him bring the sea To quench these flames, or else the world's fair frame Will be in greater danger to be burnt, Than when proud Phaeton rul'd the sun's rich chariot.

SOM. I'll take that care the world shall not be burnt, If Somnus' cords can hold you. [SOMNUS _binds him_.

TAC. What Vulcan's this that offers to enchain A greater soldier than the god of war?[312]

SOM. He that each night with bloodless battle conquers The proudest conqueror that triumphs by wars.

CRA. Now, Somnus, there's but only one remaining, That was the author of these outrages.

SOM. Who's that? is he under my command?

CRA. Yes, yes, 'tis Appetitus; if you go that way and look about those thickets, I'll go hither, and search this grove. I doubt not but to find him.

SOM. Content.

[_Exeunt_ SOMNUS _et_ CRAPULA.

SCAENA DECIMA SEXTA.

APPETITUS IRASCIBILIS _with a willow in his hand, pulled up
by the roots_, SOMNUS, CRAPULA. _The Senses all asleep_.

APP. So now's the time that I would gladly meet These madding Senses that abus'd me thus; What, haunt me like an owl? make an ass of me? No, they shall know I scorn to serve such masters, As cannot master their affections. Their injuries have chang'd my nature now; I'll be no more call'd hungry parasite, But henceforth answer to the wrathful name Of Angry Appetite. My choler's up. Zephyrus, cool me quickly with thy fan, Or else I'll cut thy cheeks. Why this is brave, Far better than to fawn at Gustus' table For a few scraps; no, no such words as these-- By Pluto, stab the villain, kill the slave: By the infernal hags I'll hough[313] the rogue, And paunch the rascal that abus'd me thus. Such words as these fit angry Appetite.

_Enter_ CRAPULA.

CRA. Somnus, Somnus, come hither, come hither quickly, he's here, he's here!

APP. Ay, marry is he, sirrah, what of that base miscreant Crapula?

CRA. O gentle Appetitus!

APP. You muddy gulch[314], dar'st look me in the face, While mine eyes sparkle with revengeful fire? [_Beats him_.

CRA. Good Appetitus!

APP. Peace, you fat bawson[315], peace, Seest not this fatal engine of my wrath? Villain, I'll maul thee for thine old offences, And grind thy bones to powder with this pestle! You, when I had no weapons to defend me, Could beat me out of doors; but now prepare: Make thyself ready, for thou shalt not 'scape. Thus doth the great revengeful Appetite Upon his fat foe wreak his wrathful spite.

[APPETITUS _heaveth up his club to brain_ CRAPULA; _but_
SOMNUS _in the meantime catcheth him behind, and binds him_.

SOM. Why, how now, Crapula?

CRA. Am I not dead? is not my soul departed?

SOM. No, no, see where he lies, That would have hurt thee: fear nothing.

[SOMNUS _lays the Senses all in a circle, feet to feet,
and wafts his wand over them_.

So rest you all in silent quietness; Let nothing wake you, till the power of sleep, With his sweet dew cooling your brains enflam'd, Hath rectified the vain and idle thoughts, Bred by your surfeit and distemperature; Lo, here the Senses, late outrageous, All in a round together sleep like friends; For there's no difference 'twixt the king and clown, The poor and rich, the beauteous and deform'd, Wrapp'd in the veil of night and bonds of sleep; Without whose power and sweet dominion Our life were hell, and pleasure painfulness. The sting of envy and the dart of love, Avarice' talons, and the fire of hate, Would poison, wound, distract, and soon consume The heart, the liver, life, and mind of man. The sturdy mower, that with brawny arms Wieldeth the crooked scythe, in many a swath Cutting the flowery pride on velvet plain, Lies down at night, and in the weird[316] folds Of his wife's arms forgets his labour past. The painful mariner and careful smith, The toiling ploughman, all artificers, Most humbly yield to my dominion: Without due rest nothing is durable. Lo, thus doth Somnus conquer all the world With his most awful wand, and half the year Reigns o'er the best and proudest emperors. Only the nurslings of the Sisters nine Rebel against me, scorn my great command; And when dark night from her bedewed[317] wings Drops sleepy silence to the eyes of all, They only wake, and with unwearied toil Labour to find the _Via Lactea_, That leads to the heaven of immortality; And by the lofty towering of their minds, Fledg'd with the feathers of a learned muse, They raise themselves unto the highest pitch, Marrying base earth and heaven in a thought. But thus I punish their rebellion: Their industry was never yet rewarded: Better to sleep, than wake and toil for nothing.

[_Exeunt_ SOMNUS _and_ CRAPULA.

SCAENA DECIMA SEPTIMA.

_The five Senses_, LINGUA, APPETITUS, _all asleep
and dreaming_; PHANTASTES, HEURESIS.

AUD. So ho, Rockwood;[318] so ho, Rockwood; Rockwood, your organ: eh, Chanter, Chanter; by Acteon's head-tire, it's a very deep-mouthed dog, a most admirable cry of hounds. Look here, again, again: there, there, there! ah, ware counter![319]

VIS. Do you see the full moon yonder, and not the man in it? why, methinks 'tis too-too evident: I see his dog very plain, and look you, just under his tail is a thorn-bush of furze.

GUS. 'Twill make a fine toothpick, that lark's heel there: O, do not burn it.

PHA. Boy Heuresis, what think'st thou I think, when I think nothing?

HEU. And it please you, sir, I think you are devising how to answer a man that asks you nothing.

PHA. Well-guessed, boy; but yet thou mistook'st it, for I was thinking of the constancy of women[320]. [APPETITUS _snores aloud_.] Beware, sirrah, take heed; I doubt me there's some wild boar lodged hereabout. How now? methinks these be the Senses; ha? in my conceit the elder brother of death has kissed them.

TAC. O, O, O, I am stabbed, I am stabbed; hold your hand, O, O, O.

PHA. How now? do they talk in their sleep? are they not awake, Heuresis?

HEU. No, questionless, they be all fast asleep.

GUS. Eat not too many of those apples, they be very flative[321].

OLF. Foh, beat out this dog here; foh, was it you, Appetitus?

AUD. In faith, it was most sweetly-winded, whosoever it was; the warble is very good, and the horn is excellent.

TAC. Put on, man, put on; keep your head warm, 'tis cold.

PHA. Ha, ha, ha, ha? 'st: Heuresis, stir not, sirrah.

APP. Shut the door, the pot runs over, sirrah. Cook, that will be a sweet pasty, if you nibble the venison so.

GUS. Say you so? is a marrow-pie the Helena of meats? give me't; if I play not Paris, hang me. Boy, a clean trencher.

APP. Serve up, serve up; this is a fat rabbit, would I might have the maidenhead of it: come, give me the fish there; who hath meddled with these maids, ha?

OLF. Fie, shut your snuffers closer for shame; 'tis the worst smell that can be.

TAC. O, the cramp, the cramp, the cramp: my leg, my leg!

LIN. I must abroad presently: reach me my best necklace presently.

PHA. Ah, Lingua, are you there?

AUD. Here take this rope, and I'll help the leader close with the second bell. Fie, fie, there's a goodly peal clean-spoiled.

VIS. I'll lay my life that gentlewoman is painted: well, well, I know it; mark but her nose: do you not see the complexion crack out? I must confess 'tis a good picture.

TAC. Ha, ha, ha! fie, I pray you leave, you tickle me so: oh, ha, ha, ha! take away your hands, I cannot endure; ah, you tickle me, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

VIS. Hai, Rett, Rett, Rett, now, bird, now,--look about that bush, she trussed her thereabout.--Here she is, ware wing, Cater,[322] ware wing, avaunt.

LIN. Mum, mum, mum, mum.

PHA. Hist, sirrah, take heed you wake her not.

HEU. I know, sir, she is fast asleep, for her mouth is shut.

LIN. This 'tis to venture upon such uncertainties; to lose so rich a crown to no end, well, well.

PHA. Ha, ha, ha! we shall hear anon where she lost her maidenhead: 'st, boy, my Lord Vicegerent and Master Register are hard by: run quickly; tell them of this accident, wish them come softly.

[_Exit_ HEURESIS.

LIN. Mendacio, never talk farther, I doubt 'tis past recovery, and my robe likewise: I shall never have them again. Well, well.

PHA. How? her crown and her robe, never recover them? hum, was it not said to be left by Mercury, ha? I conjecture here's some knavery,--fast locked with sleep, in good faith. Was that crown and garment yours, Lingua?

LIN. Ay, marry were they, and that somebody hath felt, and shall feel more, if I live.