Senses all asleep_.

APP. So now's the time that I would gladly meet
These madding Senses that abus'd me thus;
What, haunt me like an owl? make an ass of me?
No, they shall know I scorn to serve such masters,
As cannot master their affections.
Their injuries have chang'd my nature now;
I'll be no more call'd hungry parasite,
But henceforth answer to the wrathful name
Of Angry Appetite. My choler's up.
Zephyrus, cool me quickly with thy fan,
Or else I'll cut thy cheeks. Why this is brave,
Far better than to fawn at Gustus' table
For a few scraps; no, no such words as these--
By Pluto, stab the villain, kill the slave:
By the infernal hags I'll hough[313] the rogue,
And paunch the rascal that abus'd me thus.
Such words as these fit angry Appetite.

_Enter_ CRAPULA.

CRA. Somnus, Somnus, come hither, come hither quickly, he's here,
he's here!

APP. Ay, marry is he, sirrah, what of that base miscreant Crapula?

CRA. O gentle Appetitus!

APP. You muddy gulch[314], dar'st look me in the face,
While mine eyes sparkle with revengeful fire? [_Beats him_.

CRA. Good Appetitus!

APP. Peace, you fat bawson[315], peace,
Seest not this fatal engine of my wrath?
Villain, I'll maul thee for thine old offences,
And grind thy bones to powder with this pestle!
You, when I had no weapons to defend me,
Could beat me out of doors; but now prepare:
Make thyself ready, for thou shalt not 'scape.
Thus doth the great revengeful Appetite
Upon his fat foe wreak his wrathful spite.

[APPETITUS _heaveth up his club to brain_ CRAPULA; _but_
SOMNUS _in the meantime catcheth him behind, and binds him_.

SOM. Why, how now, Crapula?

CRA. Am I not dead? is not my soul departed?

SOM. No, no, see where he lies,
That would have hurt thee: fear nothing.

[SOMNUS _lays the Senses all in a circle, feet to feet,
and wafts his wand over them_.

So rest you all in silent quietness;
Let nothing wake you, till the power of sleep,
With his sweet dew cooling your brains enflam'd,
Hath rectified the vain and idle thoughts,
Bred by your surfeit and distemperature;
Lo, here the Senses, late outrageous,
All in a round together sleep like friends;
For there's no difference 'twixt the king and clown,
The poor and rich, the beauteous and deform'd,
Wrapp'd in the veil of night and bonds of sleep;
Without whose power and sweet dominion
Our life were hell, and pleasure painfulness.
The sting of envy and the dart of love,