tortur'd ghosts,
Pursue thee still, and fill thy amaz'd ears
With cold astonishment and horrid fears!
O, how these senses muffle Common Sense!
And more and more with pleasing objects strive
To dull his judgment and pervert his will
To their behests: who, were he not so wrapp'd
I'the dusky clouds of their dark policies,
Would never suffer right to suffer wrong.
Fie, Lingua, wilt thou now degenerate?
Art not a woman? dost not love revenge?
Delightful speeches, sweet persuasions,
I have this long time us'd to get my right.
My right--that is, to make the senses six;
And have both name and power with the rest.
Oft have I season'd savoury periods
With sugar'd words, to delude Gustus' taste,
And oft embellish'd my entreative phrase
With smelling flow'rs of vernant rhetoric,
Limning and flashing it with various dyes,
To draw proud Visus to me by the eyes;
And oft perfum'd my petitory[174] style
With civet-speech, t'entrap Olfactus' nose;
And clad myself in silken eloquence,
To allure the nicer touch of Tactus' hand.
But all's become lost labour, and my cause
Is still procrastinated: therefore now,
Hence, ye base offspring of a broken mind,
Supple entreaties and smooth flatteries:
Go kiss the love-sick lips of puling gulls,[175]
That 'still their brain to quench their love's disdain:
Go gild the tongues of bawds and parasites;
Come not within my thoughts. But thou, deceit,
Break up the pleasure of my brimful breast,
Enrich my mind with subtle policies.
Well then, I'll go; whither? nay, what know I?
And do, in faith I will, the devil knows what.
What, if I set them all at variance,
And so obtain to speak? it must be so.
It must be so, but how? there lies the point:
How? thus: tut, this device will never prove,
Augment it so: 'twill be too soon descried;
Or so, nor so; 'tis too-too dangerous.
Pish, none of these! what, if I take this course? ha!
Why, there it goes; good, good; most excellent!
He that will catch eels must disturb the flood;
The chicken's hatch'd, i' faith; for they are proud,
And soon will take a cause of disagreement.

SCAENA SECUNDA.

MENDACIO, _attired in a taffeta suit of a light colour
changeable, like an ordinary page_.[176]

LINGUA, MENDACIO.

LIN. I see the heavens nurse my new-born device;
For lo, my page Mendacio comes already,
To file and burnish that I hammer'd out.
Never in better time, Mendacio,
What! hast thou done?

MEN. Done? yes, long ago.

LIN. Is't p