home.

_Cor_. Not so, my sweet wife, I am gone, I am vanisht; mum, mum, no
anger shall stirre thee; no words, I know the world well inough.

_Hostis_. Twere better, by thrice deuce-ace, in a weeke every woman
could awe her husband so well as she.

_Gracc_. Ist possible? s'foot, well I thought it had bene but a fable al
this while that _Iole_ shold make great _Hercules_ spit on his thombes
and spin, but now I see if a man were as great as _Caesar, Julius_ or
_Augustus_, or both in one, a woman may take him downe.

_Hostis_. Gossip, faith ile use a little of your counsel, but my husband
is so fat, I feare I shall never bring him to it.

_Grac_. Now, gentles, you that can, prepare a few teares to shed, for
now enters a sad sceane of sorrowe.

_Enter Fryer and Course_.

_Fryer_. Man is flesh and flesh is fraile,
The strongest man at length must faile;
Man is flesh and flesh is grasse;
Consuming time, as in a glasse,
Now is up and now is downe
And is not purchast by a Crowne;
Now seede, and now we are sowen,
Now we wither, now are mowen;
_Frater noster_ heere doth lye,
_In paupertate_ he did die,
And now is gone his _viam longam_
That leades unto his _requiem aeternam_;
But dying needie, poore and bare,
Wanting to discharge the Fryer,
Unto his grave hee's like to passe
Having neither Dirge nor Masse:
So set forward, let him goe,
_Et benedicamus Domino_.

_Phy_. And then to _Apollo_ hollo, trees, hollo.--Tapster a few more
cloathes to my feete.

_Omnes_. Oh heavens!

_Acut_. Gentles, keep your places, feare nothing; in the name of God,
what art thou?

_Phy_. My Hearse and winding-sheete! what meanes this? why, Gentles, I
am a living man.

_Acut_. Spirit, thou ly'st; thou deludest us.

_Citty wife_. Conjure him, Fryer.

_Fryer_. _In nomine Domini_ I thee charge,
_Responde mihi_, heere at large,
_Cujum pecus_, whence thou art,
_Et quamobrem_ thou makest us start
_In spiritus_ of the gloomy night?
_Qui Venis huc_ us to affright,
_Per trinitatem_ I there charge thee,
_Quid tu vis hic_ to tell to me.

_Phy_. Why, Gentles, I am a living man, _Philautus_.[308] What instance
shall I give ye? heare me I have sight, understanding, I know mine
hostes, I see that Gentlewoman, I can feele.

_Scil_. Feele this Gentlewoman! s'lid if yee were ten Ghosts, ile not
indure it.

_Acut_. Spirit, thou deludest us.

_Phy_. Why what should I say? will ye heare my voice, heeres not but--

_Scil_. Nay, that's a