[_He consults with_ MEMORY.

PHA. In my conceit, Lingua, you should seal up your lips when you go to
bed, these feminine tongues be so glib.

COM. SEN. Visus, Tactus, and the rest, our former sentence concerning
you we confirm as irrevocable, and establish the crown to you, Visus,
and the robe to you, Tactus; but as for you, Lingua--

LIN. Let me have mine own, howsoever you determine, I beseech you.

COM. SEN. That may not be: your goods are fallen into our hands; my
sentence cannot be recalled: you may see, those that seek what is not
theirs, oftentimes lose what's their own: therefore, Lingua, granting
you your life, I commit you to close prison in Gustus's house, and
charge you, Gustus, to keep her under the custody of two strong doors,
and every day, till she come to eighty years of age, see she be
well-guarded with thirty tall watchmen, without whose licence she shall
by no means wag abroad. Nevertheless, use her ladylike, according to her
estate.

PHA. I pray you, my lord, add this to the judgment--that, whensoever
she obtaineth licence to walk abroad, in token the tongue was the cause
of her offence, let her wear a velvet hood, made just in the fashion of
a great tongue. In my conceit, 'tis a very pretty emblem of a woman.

TAC. My lord, she hath a wild boy to her page, a chief agent in this
treason: his name's Mendacio.

COM. SEN. Ha! well, I will inflict this punishment on him for this time:
let him be soundly whipped, and ever after, though he shall strengthen
his speeches with the sinews of truth, yet none shall believe him.

PHA. In my imagination, my lord, the day is dead to the great toe, and
in my conceit it grows dark, by which I conjecture it will be cold; and
therefore, in my fancy and opinion, 'tis best to repair to our lodgings.

[_Exeunt omnes, praeter_ ANAMNESTES _et_ APPETITUS.

SCAENA VIGESSIMA.

ANAMNESTES, APPETITUS, _asleep in a corner_.

ANA. What's this? a fellow whispering so closely with the earth? so ho,
so ho, Appetitus? faith, now I think Morpheus himself hath been here.
Up, with a pox to you; up, you lusk[324]? I have such news to tell thee,
sirrah: all the Senses are well, and Lingua is proved guilty: up, up,
up; I never knew him so fast asleep in my life. [APPETITUS _snorts_.]
Nay, then, have at you afresh. [_Jogs him_.

APP. Jog me once again, and I'll throw this whole mess of pottage into
your face; cannot one