SCENA. 5.
Appetitvs, Mendatio, Lingva.
Ap.
So-hoe Mendatio! so-hoe, so-hoe!
Men.
Madame I doubt they come, yonder is Appetitus, you
had best begon, least in their outrage they should iniure you.
(Exit Lingua)
How now Hunger? how do'st thou my fine
may-pole, ha?
Ap.
I may well be calld a may-pole: for the Senses do nothing
but dance a morice about mee.
Men.
Why? what ayles them? are they not (as I promised
thee) friends with thee.
Ap.
Friends with mee? nay rather frenzy: I neuer knewe
them in such a case, in all my life.
Men.
Sure they dranke too much, and are mad for loue of
thee.
Ap.
They want common Sense among'st them: there's such
a hurly burly Auditus is starke deafe, and wonders why Men
speake so softly that he cannot here them: Visus hath drunke
himselfe starke blind, and therefore imagineth himselfe to bee
Polyphemus: Tactus is raging mad, and cannot bee otherwise
perswaded, but hee is Hercules furens; there's such conceits
amongst them.
