e seen many sick of the peripatetic
disease.

ANA. By the same token, my lord, I knew one that went abroad in his
sleep, bent his bow, shot at a magpie, killed her, fetched his arrow,
came home, locked the doors, and went to bed again.

COM. SEN. What should be the reason of it?

MEM. I remember Scaliger told me the reason once, as I think thus: the
nerves that carry the moving faculty from the brains to the thighs,
legs, feet, and arms, are wider far than the other nerves; wherefore
they are not so easily stopped with the vapours of sleep, but are night
and day ready to perform what fancy shall command them.

COM. SEN. It may be so. But, Phantastes, inquire more of Acrasia.

PHA. What did you with the potion Acrasia made you?

LIN. Gave it to the Senses, and made them as mad as--well, if I cannot
recover it--let it go. I'll not leave them thus.
[_She lies down again_.

COM. SEN. Boy, awake the Senses there.

ANA. Ho, ho, Auditus, up, up; so ho, Olfactus, have at your nose; up,
Visus, Gustus, Tactus, up: what, can you not feel a pinch? have at you
with a pin.

TAC. O, you stab me, O!

COM. SEN. Tactus, know you how you came hither?

TAC. No, my lord, not I; this I remember,
We supp'd with Gustus, and had wine good store,
Whereof I think I tasted liberally.
Amongst the rest, we drunk a composition
Of a most delicate and pleasant relish,
That made our brains somewhat irregular.

SCAENA DECIMA NONA.

_The Senses awake_, LINGUA _asleep_, COMMUNIS SENSUS, MEMORY,
PHANTASTES, ANAMNESTES, HEURESIS _drawing_ CRAPULA.

HEU. My lord, here's a fat rascal was lurking in a bush very
suspiciously: his name, he says, is Crapula.

COM. SEN. Sirrah, speak quickly what you know of these troubles.

CRA. Nothing, my lord, but that the Senses were mad, and that Somnus, at
my request, laid them asleep, in hope to recover them.

COM. SEN. Why then, 'tis too evident Acrasia, at Lingua's request,
bewitched the Senses: wake her quickly, Heuresis.

LIN. Heigho, out alas, ah me, where am I? how came I here?
where am I? ah!

COM. SEN. Lingua, look not so strangely upon the matter; you have
confessed in your sleep, that with a crown and a robe you have disturbed
the Senses, using a crafty help to enrage them: can you deny it?

LIN. Ah me, most miserable wretch! I beseech your lordship forgive me.

COM. SEN. No, no, 'tis a fault unpardonable.