Hild. (To Wiz.) Hast done this?
Wiz. Hast done what? mensa, mensae, mensae, ha! ha! ha! (Sits down and proceeds to make angles and circles.)
Ab. He be ever like this, Most Holy, as thou seest.
Hild. Will he not understand? I would know his manner of thought.
Ab. It is by reason of his magic and his great age, Most Holy.
Hild. How old be he?
Ab. Some say one thousand, some five hundred, but the most three hundred and fifty years, Most Holy.
Hild. Nay! How do you converse with him?
Ab. We hang him by the thumbs till he answer that be one way.