University of Virginia Library

SCENA. 4.

Mendacio. Lingva.
Mend.
Haue I not hied me Madam? looke you here,
What shall be done with these temptations?

Ling.
They say a golden Ball,
Bred enmitie betwixt three Goddesses,
So shall this Crowne be author of debate,
Betwixt fiue Senses.

Mend.
Where shall it be laide?

Ling.
There, there, there, 'tis well, so, so, so,

Mend.
A Crown's a pleasing baite to looke vpon,
The craftiest Foxe will hardly scape this trap.

Ling.
Come lets vs away, and leaue it to the chance.

Mend.
Nay rather let me stand close here-abouts,
And see the euent.

Ling.
Do so, and if they doubt
How it came there, faine them some pritty fable,
How that some God—

Mend:
Tut, tut, tut, let me alone,
I that haue fained so many hundred Gods,
Can easily forge some fable for the turne:
Whist Madame, away, away, you fright the Fowle,
Tactus comes hard by, looke you.

Ling.
Ist he for certaine?

Mend.
Yes, yes, yes, 'tis he.

Ling.
'Tis he indeed.
Exit Lingua.