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.