ANA. By the same token, my lord, I knew one that went abroad in his sleep, bent his bow, shot at a magpie, killed her, fetched his arrow, came home, locked the doors, and went to bed again.
COM. SEN. What should be the reason of it?
MEM. I remember Scaliger told me the reason once, as I think thus: the nerves that carry the moving faculty from the brains to the thighs, legs, feet, and arms, are wider far than the other nerves; wherefore they are not so easily stopped with the vapours of sleep, but are night and day ready to perform what fancy shall command them.
COM. SEN. It may be so. But, Phantastes, inquire more of Acrasia.
PHA. What did you with the potion Acrasia made you?
LIN. Gave it to the Senses, and made them as
mad as—well, if I cannot recover it—let
it go. I’ll not leave them thus.
[She lies down again.
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.
COM. SEN. Why then, ’tis too evident Acrasia, at Lingua’s request, bewitched the Senses: wake her quickly, Heuresis.
LIN. Heigho, out alas, ah me, where am I? how came I here? where am I? ah!
COM. SEN. Lingua, look not so strangely upon the matter; you have confessed in your sleep, that with a crown and a robe you have disturbed the Senses, using a crafty help to enrage them: can you deny it?
LIN. Ah me, most miserable wretch! I beseech your lordship forgive me.
COM. SEN. No, no, ’tis a fault unpardonable.
[He consults with MEMORY.
PHA. In my conceit, Lingua, you should seal up your lips when you go to bed, these feminine tongues be so glib.
COM. SEN. Visus, Tactus, and the rest, our former sentence concerning you we confirm as irrevocable, and establish the crown to you, Visus, and the robe to you, Tactus; but as for you, Lingua—