APP. True, but because they know a little thing drives me from them, therefore in midst of meat they present me with some sharp sauce or a dish of delicate anchovies, or a caviare,[215] to entice me back again. Nay, more: your old sires, that hardly go without a prop, will walk a mile or two every day to renew their acquaintance with me. As for the academy, it is beholding to me for adding the eighth province unto the noble Heptarchy of the liberal sciences.[216]
MEN. What's that, I prythee?
APP. The most desired and honourable art of cookery. Now, sirrah, in the city I am———'st, 'st! O, the body of a louse!
MEN. What, art a louse in the city?
APP. Not a word more; for yonder comes Phantastes and somebody else.
MEN. What a pox can Phantastes do?
APP. Work a miracle, if he would prove wise.
MEN. 'Tis he indeed, the vilest nup.[217] Yet the fool loves me exceedingly; but I care not for his company, for if he once catch me, I shall never be rid of him.
[Exeunt APPETITUS and MENDACIO.