TAC. And many have been metamorphosed To stranger matters and more uncouth forms.
OLF. I must go nearer him; he doth not hear.
TAC. And yet methinks, I speak as I was wont; And--
OLF. Tactus, Tactus!
TAC. Olfactus, as thou lov'st me, come not near me.
OLF. Why, art thou hatching eggs? th'art afeard[185] to break them?
TAC. Touch me not, lest thou chance to break my life.
OLF. What's this under thee?
TAC. If thou meddle with me, I am utterly undone.
OLF. Why, man, what ails thee?
TAC. Let me alone, and I'll tell thee; Lately I came from fine Phantastes' house.
OLF. So I believe, for thou art very foolish.
TAC. No sooner had I parted out of doors[186], But up I held my hands before my face, To shield mine eyes from th'light's piercing beams; When I protest I saw the sun as clear Through these my palms, as through a perspective.
No marvel; for when I beheld my fingers, I saw my fingers were transform'd to glass; Opening my breast, my breast was like a window, Through which I plainly did perceive my heart: In whose two concaves[187] I discern'd my thoughts Confus'dly lodged in great multitudes.
OLF. Ha, ha, ha, ha! why, this is excellent, Momus himself can find no fault with thee, Thou'dst make a passing live anatomy; And decide the question much disputed Betwixt the Galenists and Aristotle.
TAC. But when I had arriv'd, and set me down Viewing myself--myself, ay me! was changed, As thou now seest, to a perfect urinal.
OLF. T'a perfect urinal? O monstrous, monstrous!
Art not mad to think so?
TAC. I do not think so, but I say I am so, Therefore, Olfactus, come not near, I advise you.
OLF. See the strange working of dull melancholy!
Whose drossy thoughts, drying the feeble brain, Corrupts the sense, deludes the intellect, And in the soul's fair table falsely graves Whole squadrons of fantastical chimeras And thousand vain imaginations, Making some think their heads as big as horses, Some that th'are dead[188], some that th'are turn'd to wolves[189], As now it makes him think himself all glass.
Tactus, dissuade thyself; thou dost but think so.
TAC. Olfactus, if thou lov'st me, get thee gone; I am an urinal, I dare not stir For fear of cracking in the bottom.
OLF. Wilt thou sit thus all day?
TAC. Unless thou help me.
OLF. Bedlam must help thee. What wouldst have me do?
TAC. Go to the city, make a case for me; Stuff it with wool, then come again and fetch me.
OLF. Ha, ha, ha!
Thou'lt be laughed out of case and countenance.
TAC. I care not. So it must be, or I cannot stir.
OLF. I had best leave troubling him; he's obstinate. Urinal, I leave you, but above all things take heed Jupiter sees you not; for, if he do, he'll ne'er make water in a sieve again; thou'lt serve his turn so fit, to carry his water unto Esculapius. Farewell, Urinal, farewell.
[_Exit_ OLFACTUS.
TAC. Speak not so loud; the sound's enough to crack me. What, is he gone? I an urinal! ha, ha, ha! I protest I might have had my face washed finely if he had meant to abuse me. I an urinal! ha, ha, ha! Go to, Urinal; you have 'scaped a fair scouring. Well, I'll away, and get me to mine own house; there I'll lock up myself fast, playing the chemic, Augmenting this one crown to troops of angels, With which gold-winged messengers I mean To work great wonders, as to build and purchase; Fare daintily; tie up men's tongues and loose them; Command their lives, their goods, their liberties, And captive all the world with chains of gold.
Hey, hey, tery, linkum tinkum.
[_He offers to go out, but comes in suddenly amazed_.
O Hercules!
Fortune, the queen, delights to play with me, Stopping my passage with the sight of Visus: But as he makes hither, I'll make hence, There's more ways to the wood than one[190].
What, more devils to affright me?
O Diabolo! Gustus comes here to vex me.
So that I, poor wretch, am like A shuttlecock betwixt two battledoors.
If I run there, Visus beats me to Scylla; If here, then Gustus blows me to Charybdis.
Neptune hath sworn my hope shall suffer shipwreck.
What shall I say? mine Urinal's too thin To bide the fury of such storms as these.
SCAENA OCTAVA.
VISUS _in a garland of bays, mixed with white and red roses, a light-coloured taffeta mantle striped with silver, and fringed upon green silk bases, buskins, &c_. GUSTUS _in the same fashion, differing only in colour_. TACTUS _in a corner of the stage_.
VISUS, GUSTUS, TACTUS.
VIS. Gustus, good day.
GUS. I cannot have a bad, Meeting so fair an omen as yourself.
TAC. Shall I? will't prove? ha! well, 'tis best to venture.
[TACTUS _puts on the robes_.
GUS. Saw you not Tactus? I should speak with him.
TAC. Perchance so; a sudden lie hath best luck.
VIS. That face is his, or else mine eye's deceiv'd.
Why, how now, Tactus! what, so gorgeous?
GUS. Where didst thou get these fair habiliments?
TAC. Stand back, I charge you, as you love your lives; By Styx, the first that toucheth me shall die.
VIS. I can discern no weapons. Will he kill us?
TAC. Kill you? not I, but come not near me, You had best.