VIS. I can discern no weapons. Will he kill us? TAC. Kill you? not I, but come not near me, You had best. VIS. Why, art thou mad? TAC. Friends, as you love your lives, Venture not once to come within my reach. GUS. Why dost threaten so? TAG. I do not threaten, But in pure love advise you for the best: Dare not to touch me, but hence fly apace; Add wings unto your feet, and save your lives. VIS. Why, what's the matter, Tactus? prythee, tell me? TAC. If you will needs jeopard your lives so long, As hear the ground of my amazedness, Then for your better safety stand aside. GUS. How full of ceremonies! sure he'll conjure; For such like robes magicians use to wear. VIS. I'll see the end, though he should unlock hell, And set th'infernal hags at liberty. TAC. How rash is man on hidden harms[191] to rush! It was my chance--O chance most miserable!-- To walk that way that to Crumena leads. GUS. You mean Cremona, a little town hard-by. TAC. I say Crumena, called Vacua, A town which doth, and always hath belong'd, Chiefly to scholars. From Crumena walls I saw a man come stealing craftily, Apparell'd in this vesture which I wear; But, seeing me, eftsoons[192] he took his heels, And threw his garment from him all in haste, Which I perceiving to be richly wrought, Took it me up; but, good, now get you gone, Warn'd by my harms, and 'scape my misery. VIS. I know no danger: leave these circumstances. TAC. No sooner had I put it on my back, But suddenly mine eyes began to dim, My joints wex[193] sore, and all my body burn['d] With most intestine torture, and at length It was too evident, I had caught the plague. VIS. The plague! away, good Gustus, let's be gone; I doubt 'tis true, now I remember me, Crumena Vacua never wants the plague. GUS. Tactus, I'll put myself in jeopardy To pleasure thee. TAC. No, gentle Gustus, Your absence is the only thing I wish, Lest I infect you with my company. GUS. Farewell. [_Exit_ GUSTUS. VIS. I willingly would stay to do thee good. TAC. A thousand thanks; but since I needs must die, Let it suffice, death only murders me. O, 'twould augment the dolour of my death, To know myself the most unhappy bow, Through which pale death should aim his shafts at you. VIS. Tactus, farewell; yet die with this good hope, Thy corpse shall be interred as it ought. [_Exit_ VISUS. TAC. Go, make my tomb, provide my funerals; ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Excellent asses thus to be deluded, Bewail his death and cruel destinies, That lives, and laughs your fooleries to scorn. But where's my crown! O, here: I well deserve Thus to be crown'd for two great victories! Ha, ha, ha! Visus, take care my corpse be well interr'd: Go make my tomb, and write upon the stone, _Here lies the Sense that living[194] gull'd them all With a false plague and feigned urinal_. SCAENA NONA. AUDITUS, TACTUS. AUD. Tactus, Tactus!