COM. SEN. Boy, awake the Senses there.
ANA. Ho, ho, Auditus, up, up; so ho, Olfactus, have at your nose; up, Visus, Gustus, Tactus, up: what, can you not feel a pinch? have at you with a pin.
TAC. O, you stab me, O!
COM. SEN. Tactus, know you how you came hither?
TAC. No, my lord, not I; this I remember,
We supp'd with Gustus, and had wine good store,
Whereof I think I tasted liberally.
Amongst the rest, we drunk a composition
Of a most delicate and pleasant relish,
That made our brains somewhat irregular.
SCAENA DECIMA NONA.
The Senses awake, LINGUA asleep, COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORY,
PHANTASTES, ANAMNESTES, HEURESIS drawing CRAPULA.
HEU. My lord, here's a fat rascal was lurking in a bush very suspiciously: his name, he says, is Crapula.
COM. SEN. Sirrah, speak quickly what you know of these troubles.
CRA. Nothing, my lord, but that the Senses were mad, and that Somnus, at my request, laid them asleep, in hope to recover them.