A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ix Part 91

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]. [APPEt.i.tUS _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, Appet.i.tus?

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.

PHA. O, strange, she answers in her sleep to my question: but how come the Senses to strive for it?

LIN. Why, I laid it on purpose in their way, that they might fall together by the ears.

PHA. What a strange thing is this!

SCAENA DECIMA OCTAVA.

_The Senses_, APPEt.i.tUS, _and_ LINGUA, _asleep_.

PHANTASTES, COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORIA, ANAMNESTES.

PHA. Hist, my lord: softly, softly! here's the notablest piece of treason discovered; how say you? Lingua set all the Senses at odds, she hath confessed it to me in her sleep.

COM. SEN. Is't possible, Master Register? did you ever know any talk in their sleep.

MEM. I remember, my lord, many have done so very oft; but women are troubled especially with this talking disease; many of them have I heard answer in their dreams, and tell what they did all day awake.

ANA. By the same token, there was a wanton maid, that being asked by her mother what such a one did with her so late one night in such a room, she presently said that--

MEM. Peace, you vile rake-h.e.l.l, is such a jest fit for this company? no more, I say, sirrah.

PHA. My lord, will you believe your own ears? you shall hear her answer me as directly and truly as may be. Lingua, what did you with the crown and garments?

LIN. I'll tell thee, Mendacio.

PHA. She thinks Mendacio speaks to her; mark now, mark how truly she will answer. What say you, madam?

LIN. I say Phantastes is a foolish, transparent gull; a mere fanatic napson[323], in my imagination not worthy to sit as a judge's a.s.sistant.

COM. SEN. Ha, ha, ha! how truly and directly she answers.