emory, the season of your coming is very ripe.

PHA. Had you stayed a little longer, 'twould have been stark rotten.

MEM. I am glad I saved it from the swine. 'Sprecious, I have forgot
something. O, my purse, my purse! Why, Anamnestes, Remembrance? that
wild boy is always gadding. I remember he was at my heels even now, and
now the vile rascal is vanished.

PHA. Is he not here? Why, then in my imagination he's left behind.
Hollo! Anamnestes, Remembrance!

ANA. [_Running in haste_.] Anon, anon, sir; anon, anon, sir; anon,
anon, sir; anon, anon, sir.

MEM. Ha, sirrah, what a brawling's here?

ANA. I do but give you an answer with, anon, sir.

MEM. You answer sweetly; I have called you three or four times one
after another.

ANA. Sir, I hope I answered you three or four times, one in the neck of
another. But if your good worship have lent me any more calls, tell me,
and I'll repay them, as I'm a gentleman.

MEM. Leave your tattle. Had you come at first, I had not spent so much
breath in vain.

ANA. The truth is, sir, the first time you called I heard you not: the
second, I understood you not: the third, I knew not whether it were you
or no: the fourth, I could not tell where you were, and that's the
reason I answered so suddenly.

MEM. Go, sirrah: run: seek everywhere. I have lost my purse somewhere.

ANA. I go, sir. _Go, sirrah, seek, run; I have lost; bring_! here's a
dog's life, with a pox! Shall I be always used like a water-spaniel?
[_Exit_ ANAMNESTES.

COM. SEN. Come, good Master Register, I wonder you be so late now-a-days.

MEM. My good lord, I remember that I knew your grandfather in this your
place, and I remember your grandfather's great grandfather's
grandfather's father's father; yet in those days I never remember that
any of them could say that Register Memory ever broke one minute of his
appointment.

COM. SEN. Why, good father, why are you so late now-a-days?

MEM. Thus 'tis; the most customers I remember myself to have, are, as
your lordship knows, scholars; and now-a-days the most of them are
become critics, bringing me home such paltry things to lay up for them,
that I can hardly find them again.

PHA. Jupiter, Jupiter, I had thought these flies had bit none but
myself: do critics tickle you, i'faith?

MEM. Very familiarly: for they must know of me, forsooth, how every idle
word is written in all the musty moth-eaten manuscripts, ke