APP. Hercules, Hercules, Hercules! do not you hear Omphale? hark how she calls you, hark!
TAC. 'Tis she indeed, I know her sugar'd voice:
Omphale, dear commandress of my life,
My thoughts' repose, sweet centre of my cares,
Where all my hopes and best desires take rest.
Lo! where the mighty son of Jupiter
Throws himself captive at your conquering feet!
Do not disdain my voluntary humbleness:
Accept my service, bless me with commanding.
I will perform the hardest imposition,
And run through twelve new labours for thy sake.
Omphale, dear commandress of my life.
APP. Do you not see how she beckons to you to follow her? Look how she holds her distaff, look ye?
TAC. Where is she gone, that I may follow her?
Omphale, stay, stay, take thy Hercules!
APP. There, there, man, you are right.
[Exit TACTUS.
SCAENA OCTAVA.
APPETITUS solus.
APP. What a strange temper are the Senses in!
How come their wits thus topsy-turvy turn'd?
Hercules Tactus, Visus Polypheme!
Two goodly surnames have they purchased.
By the rare ambrosia[306] of an oyster-pie,
They have got such proud imaginations,
That I could wish I were mad for company:
But since my fortunes cannot stretch so high,
I'll rest contented with this wise estate.