A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Ix Part 76

MEM. I remember, in the country of Utopia[236] they use no other kind of artillery.

COM. SEN. But what's become of Olfactus?

MEN. He politicly leans to neither part, But stands betwixt the camps as at receipt, Having great swine[237] his pioneers to entrench them.

PHA. In my foolish imagination Olfactus is very like the G.o.ddess of Victory, that never takes any part but the conqueror's.

MEN. And in the woods be[238] placed secretly Two hundred couple of hounds and hungry mastiffs; And o'er his head hover at his command A cloud of vultures, which o'erspread the light, Making a night before the day be done: But to what end not known, but fear'd of all.

PHA. I conjecture he intends to see them fight, and after the battle to feed his dogs, hogs, and vultures upon the murdered carcases.

MEN. My lord, I think the fury of their anger will not be obedient to the message of Lingua; for otherwise, in my conceit, they should have been here ere this. With your lords.h.i.+p's good liking, we'll attend upon you to see the field for more certainty.

COM. SEN. It shall be so; come, Master Register, let's walk.

[_Exeunt omnes_.

ACTUS TERTIUS, SCAENA PRIMA.

ANAMNESTES, _with a purse in his hand_.

ANA. Forsooth, Oblivio, shut the door upon me; I could come no sooner: ha! is he not here? O excellent! would I were hanged, but I looked for a sound rap on the pate, and that made me beforehand to lift up this excuse for a buckler. I know he's not at court, for here is his purse, without which warrant there's no coming thither; wherefore now, Anamnestes, sport thyself a little, while thou art out of the prison of his company. What shall I do? by my troth, anatomise his purse in his absence. Plutus send there be jewels in it, that I may finely geld it of the stones--the best, sure, lies in the bottom; pox on't, here's nothing but a company of worm-eaten papers: what's this? Memorandum that Master Prodigo owes me four thousand pounds, and that his lands are in p.a.w.n for it. Memorandum that I owe. That he owes? 'Tis well the old slave hath some care of his credit; to whom owes he, trow I? that I owe Anamnestes; what, me? I never lent him anything; ha, this is good, there's something coming to me more than I looked for. Come on; what is't? Memorandum that I owe Anamnestes------a breeching;[239] i'faith, sir, I will ease you of that payment. [_He rends the bill_.] Memorandum that, when I was a child, Robusto tripped up my heels at football: what a revengeful dizard[240] is this?

SCAENA SECUNDA.

MENDACIO, _with cus.h.i.+ons under his arms, trips up_ ANAMNESTES' _heels_.

MENDACIO, ANAMNESTES.

ANA. How now?

MEN. Nothing, but lay you upon the cus.h.i.+on, sir, or so.

ANA. Nothing, but lay the cus.h.i.+on upon you, sir.

MEN, What, my little Nam? By this foot, I am sorry I mistook thee.

ANA. What, my little Men? By this hand, it grieves me I took thee so right. But, sirrah, whither with these cus.h.i.+ons?

MEN. To lay them here, that the judges may sit softly, lest my Lady Lingua's cause go hard with her.

ANA. They should have been wrought with gold; these will do nothing. But what makes my lady with the judges?

MEN. Pis.h.!.+ know'st not? She sueth for the t.i.tle of a Sense, as well as the rest that bear the name of the Pentarchy.

ANA. Will Common Sense and my master leave their affairs to determine that controversy?

MEN. Then thou hear'st nothing.

ANA. What should I hear?

MEN. All the Senses fell out about a crown fallen from heaven, and pitched a field for it; but Vicegerent Common Sense, hearing of it, took upon him to umpire the contention, in which regard he hath appointed them (their arms dismissed) to appear before him, charging every one to bring, as it were in a show, their proper objects, that by them he may determine of their several excellencies.

ANA. When is all this?

MEN. As soon as they can possibly provide.

ANA. But can he tell which deserves best by their objects?

MEN. No, not only; for every Sense must describe his instrument, that is, his house, where he performs his daily duty, so that by the object and the instrument my lord can with great ease discern their place and dignities.

ANA. His lords.h.i.+p's very wise.

MEN. Thou shalt hear all anon. Fine Master Phantastes and thy master will be here shortly. But how is't, my little rogue? methinks thou look'st lean upon't!

ANA. Alas! how should I do otherwise, that lie all night with such a raw-boned skeleton as Memory, and run all day on his errands? The churl's grown so old and forgetful, that every hour he's calling, Anamnestes, Remembrance; where art, Anamnestes? Then presently something's lost. Poor I must run for it, and these words, _Run, boy; come, sirrah, quick, quick, quick_! are as familiar with him as the cough, never out on's mouth.

MEN. Alack, alack! poor rogue, I see my fortunes are better. My lady loves me exceedingly; she's always kissing me, so that I tell thee, Nam, Mendacio's never from betwixt her lips.

ANA. Nor I out of Memory's mouth,[241] but in a worse sort, always exercising my stumps, and, which is more, when he favours best, then I am in the worst taking.

MEN. How so?

ANA. Thus: when we are friends, then must I come and be dandled upon his palsy-quaking knees, and he'll tell me a long story of his acquaintance with King Priamus and his familiarity with Nestor, and how he played at blowpoint[242] with Jupiter, when he was in his sidecoats, and how he went to look bird-nests with Athous,[243] and where he was at Deucalion's flood, and twenty such old wives' tales.

MEN. I wonder he, being so old, can talk so much.

ANA. Nature, thou know'st, knowing what an unruly engine the tongue is, hath set teeth round about for watchmen. Now, sir, my master's old age hath coughed out all his teeth, and that's the cause it runs so much at liberty.

MEN. Philosophical!

ANA. O, but there's one thing stings me to the very heart--to see an ugly, foul, idle, fat, dusty cloghead, called Oblivio, preferred before me. Dost know him?

MEN. Who, I? Ay, but care not for his acquaintance. Hang him, blockhead!

I could never abide him. Thou, Remembrance, are the only friend that the arms of my friends.h.i.+p shall embrace. Thou hast heard _Oportet mendacem esse memorem_. But what of Oblivio?

ANA. The very naming of him hath made me forget myself. O, O, O, O, that rascal is so made of everywhere!

MEN. Who, Oblivio?

ANA. Ay, for our courtiers hug him continually in their ungrateful bosoms, and your smooth-bellied,[244] fat-backed, barrel-paunched, tun-gutted drones are never without him. As for Memory, he's a false-hearted fellow; he always deceives them; they respect not him, except it be to play a game at chests,[245] primero,[246] saunt,[247]

maw,[248] or such like.