[_Enter_] MANES,[786] GRANICHUS, PSYLLUS
_Manes._ I serve in stead of a master a mouse,[787] whose house is a
tub, whose dinner is a crust, and whose bed is a boord.
_Psyllus._ Then art thou in a state of life which philosophers
commend: a crum for thy supper, an hand for thy cup, and thy
clothes for thy sheets; for _Natura paucis contenta._ 5
_Gran._ Manes, it is pitie so proper a man should be cast away
upon a philosopher; but that Diogenes, that dogge,[788] should have
Manes, that dog-bolt,[789] it grieveth nature and spiteth art: the one
having found thee so dissolute--absolute[790] I would say--in bodie,
the other so single--singular--in minde. 10
_Manes._ Are you merry? It is a signe by the trip of your tongue
and the toyes[791] of your head that you have done that to day
which I have not done these three dayes.
_Psyllus._ Whats that?
_Manes._ Dined. 15
_Gran._ I thinke Diogenes keepes but cold cheare.
_Manes._ I would it were so; but hee keepeth neither hot nor
cold.
_Gran._ What then, luke warme? That made Manes runne from
his master the last day.[792] 20
_Psyllus._ Manes had reason, for his name foretold as much.
_Manes._ My name? How so, sir boy?
_Psyllus._ You know that it is called mons a movendo, because it
stands still.
_Manes._ Good. 25
_Psyllus._ And thou art named Manes _a manendo_, because thou
runnest away.
_Manes._ Passing[793] reasons! I did not run away, but retire.
_Psyllus._ To a prison, because thou wouldst have leisure to
contemplate. 30
_Manes._ I will prove that my bodie was immortall because it was
in prison.
_Gran._ As how?
_Manes._ Did your masters never teach you that the soule is
immortall? 35
_Gran._ Yes.
_Manes._ And the bodie is the prison of the soule.
_Gran._ True.
_Manes._ Why then, thus[794] to make my body immortall, I put it
in prison.[795] 40
_Gran._ Oh, bad!
_Psyllus._ Excellent ill!
_Manes._ You may see how dull a fasting wit is: therefore, Psyllus,
let us goe to supper with Granichus. Plato is the best fellow of all
philosophers: give me him that reades[796] in the morning in the 45
schoole, and at noone in the kitchen.
_Psyllus._ And me!
_Gran._ Ah, sirs, my master is a king in his parlour for the
body, and a god in his studie for the soule. Among all his men he
commendeth one that is an excellent musition; then stand I by and
clap another on the shoulder and say, "This is a passing good 50
cooke."
_Manes._ It is well done Granichus; for give mee pleasure that
goes in at the mouth, not the eare,--I had rather fill my guts
than my braines.
_Psyllus._ I serve Apelles, who feedeth mee as Diogenes doth 55
Manes; for at dinner the one preacheth abstinence, the other
commendeth counterfaiting[797]: when I would eate meate, he paints
a[798] spit; and when I thirst, "O," saith he, "is not this a faire
pot?" and pointes to a table[799] which containes the Banquet of
the Gods, where are many dishes to feed the eye, but not to fill
the gut. 60
_Gran._ What doest thou then?
_Psyllus._ This doth hee then: bring in many examples that some
have lived by savours; and proveth that much easier it is to fat
by colours; and telles of birdes that have been fatted by painted
grapes in winter, and how many have so fed their eyes with their
mistresse picture that they never desired to take food, being 65
glutted with the delight in their favours.[800] Then doth he shew
me counterfeites,--such as have surfeited, with their filthy and
lothsome vomites; and the riotous[801] Bacchanalls of the god
Bacchus and his disorderly crew; which are painted all to the life
in his shop. To conclude, I fare hardly, though I goe richly, 70
which maketh me when I should begin to shadow a ladies face, to
draw a lambs head, and sometime to set to the body of a maid a
shoulder of mutton, for _Semper animus meus est in patinis_.[802]
_Manes._ Thou art a god to mee; for, could I see but a cookes 75
shop painted, I would make mine eyes fatte as butter, for I have
nought but sentences to fill my maw: as, _Plures occidit crapula
quam gladius_; _Musa jejunantibus amica_; Repletion killeth
delicatly; and an old saw of abstinence by[803] Socrates,--The
belly is the heads grave. Thus with sayings, not with meate, he
maketh a gallimafray.[804] 80
_Gran._ But how doest thou then live?
_Manes._ With fine jests, sweet ayre, and the dogs[805] almes.
_Gran._ Well, for this time I will stanch thy gut, and among pots
and platters thou shall see what it is to serve Plato.
_Psyllus._ For joy of it, Granichus, lets sing. 85
_Manes._ My voice is as cleare in the evening as in the morning.[806]
_Gran._ An other commoditie of emptines!