t, I prythee?

APP. The most desired and honourable art of cookery. Now, sirrah, in the
city I am------'st, 'st! O, the body of a louse!

MEN. What, art a louse in the city?

APP. Not a word more; for yonder comes Phantastes and somebody else.

MEN. What a pox can Phantastes do?

APP. Work a miracle, if he would prove wise.

MEN. 'Tis he indeed, the vilest nup.[217] Yet the fool loves me
exceedingly; but I care not for his company, for if he once catch me,
I shall never be rid of him.

[_Exeunt_ APPETITUS _and_ MENDACIO.

SCAENA SECUNDA.

PHANTASTES, _a swart-complexioned fellow, but quick-eyed, in a
white satin doublet of one fashion, green velvet hose of another,
a fantastical hat with a plume of feathers of several colours, a
little short taffeta cloak, a pair of buskins cut, drawn out with
sundry-coloured ribbands, with scarfs hung about him after all
fashions and of all colours, rings, jewels, a fan, and in every
place other odd complements_.[218] HEURESIS, _a nimble-sprited
page in the newest fashion, with a garland of bays, &c_.

PHANTASTES, HEURESIS.

PHA. Sirrah boy! Heuresis! boy! how now, biting your nails?

HEU. Three things have troubled my brain this many a day, and just now,
when I was laying hold on the invention of them, your sudden call made
them, like Tantalus's apples, fly from my fingers.

PHA. Some great matters, questionless; what were they?

HEU. The quadrature of a circle, the philosopher's stone, and the next
way to the Indies.

PHA. Thou dost well to meditate on these three things at once, for
they'll be found out altogether--_ad Graecas Calendas_; but let them
pass, and carry the conceit I told you this morning to the party you wot
of. In my imagination 'tis capricious; 'twill take, I warrant thee.

HEU. I will, sir. But what say you to the gentleman that was with you
yesterday?

PHA. O, I think thou meanest him that made nineteen sonnets of his
mistress's busk-point.[219]

HEU. The same, the same, sir. You promised to help him out with the
twentieth.

PHA. By Jupiter's cloven pate, 'tis true. But we witty fellows are so
forgetful; but stay, Heu, Heu,[220] carry him this.

_The Gordian knot, which Alexander great
Did whilom, cut with his all-conquering sword,
Was nothing like thy busk-point, pretty peat,[221]
Nor could so fair an augury afford_.

Then to conclude, let hi