MANES

Are you merry, it is a sign by the trip of your tongue, and the toys of your head, that you have done that to day, which I have not done these three days. Dined. I would it were so, but he keepeth neither hight nor cold. My name? how so sir boy? Good. Passing reasons, I did not run away, but retire. I will prove that my body was immortal: because it was in prison. Did your masters never teach you that the soul is immortal? And the body is the prison of the soul. Why then, thus to make my body immor tall, I put it to prison. You may see how dull a fasting wit is: there before Psyllus let us go to supper with Granichus: Plato is the best fellow of all Philosophers. Give me him that reads in the morning in the school, and at noon in the kit chin. It is well done Granichus, for give me plea sure that goes in at the mouth, not the ear, I had rather fill my guts, then my brains. Thou art a God to me: for could I see but a Cooks shop painted, I would make mine eyes fat as butter. For I have nought but sentences to fill my maw, as, plures occidit crapulam quam gladius: musateiunantibus a micam: repletion kills delicately: & and old saw of absti nence, Socrates: The belly is the heads graven. Thus with sayings not with meat he makes a gallymafrey. With fine jests, sweet air, & the dogs alms. Do so, butmum not a word that you saw Manes. I care not who I were so I were not Ma nes. Master, you know a while ago I ran away, so do I mean to do again, quia'scio ibi esse argen tum. No, I did but now bind my self to him. In faith no, we brake a bitter jest one upon another. Well, I will High me after my master. I, with him at all times when he hath meat. Oh Psyllus habeo to leco parentis, thou blessestme. And here comes Manes, who hath as much meat in his maw, as thou hast honesty in thy head. They that know thee, know that. I, but I have business, I must go cry a thing. That which I never had, my dinner? I mean, I must cry, not as one would say cry, but cry, that is, make a noise. Boy, thou art deceived Cry hath diverse signi fications, and may be alluded to many things, knave but one, and can be applied but to thee. We Cynics are mad fellows, didst thou not find I did quip thee? We great girders call it a short saying of a sharp wit, with a bitter sense in a sweet word. Wit will have his swing, I am bewitched, inspire, inflamed, infected. Do not Psyllus, for thy dull head will be but a grindstone for my quick wit, which if thou whet with oh uertwhartes, peristi, actum est de to. I have drawn blood at ones brains with a bitter bob. Let me do my business, I my self am afraid, least my wit should wax warm, and then must it needs con fume some hard head with fine & pretty jests. I am some times in such a vain, that for want of some dull pate to work on, I begin to gird my self. Well then, let us to the matter. In faith my master means tomorrow to fly. Is it a jest to fly? shouldst thou fly so soon, thou shouldst repent it in earnest. Tush, say fly. Now let us go: for I will not see him again, till midnight, I have a back way into his tub. I mean to come in at his back. Be, he were best be as cunning as a Be, 'or else shortly he will not be at all. Thou art and ass, Capons, Geese and Owls have feathers. He hath found Daedelus old waxed wings, and hath been peecing them this month, he is so broad in the shoulders. Oh you shall see him cut the air even Like a Tortoys. Why, he hath eat ̄ nothing this sevennight but cork and feathers. He is so light that he can scarce keep him from flying at midnight. See they begin to flock, and behold my mai ster bustels himself to fly. You were as good eat my master. Why master, mean you not to fly? Every body will account you alyar. He hath taught me to fast, lie hard, and run a way. I serve in steed of a master, a mouse, whose house is a tub, whose dinner is a crust, and whose board is a bed. So was I determined to shake off both my dogs, hunger and Diogenes. I pray God my master be not flown before I come. My voice is as clear in the evening as in the mor ning.