y.

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 pawn 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 cushions under his arms,
trips up_ ANAMNESTES' _heels_.

MENDACIO, ANAMNESTES.

ANA. How now?

MEN. Nothing, but lay you upon the cushion, sir, or so.

ANA. Nothing, but lay the cushion 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 cushions?

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. Pish! know'st not? She sueth for the title 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 th