MEN. I long to see those hotspur Senses at it: they say they have gallant preparations, and not unlikely, for most of the soldiers are ready in arms, since the last field fought against their yearly enemy Meleager[201] and his wife Acrasia; that conquest hath so fleshed them, that no peace can hold them. But had not Meleager been sick, and Acrasia drunk, the Senses might have whistled for the victory. APP. Foh, what a stink of gunpowder is yonder! MEN. Who's this? O, O, 'tis Appetitus, Gustus's hungry parasite. [_Aside_.] APP. I cannot endure the smoking of guns, the thundering of drums: I had rather hear the merry hacking of pot-herbs, and see the reeking of a hot capon. If they would use no other bucklers in war but shields of brawn, brandish no swords but sweards of bacon,[202] trail no spears but spare-ribs of pork, and instead of arquebuss pieces discharge artichoke-pies: toss no pikes but boiled pickrels, then Appetitus would rouse up his crest, and bear up himself with the proudest. MEN. Ah! here's a youth stark naught at a trench, but an old dog at a trencher, a tall squire at a square table. [_Aside_.] APP. But now my good masters must pardon me; I am not one for their service, for their service is without service, and indeed their service is too hot for my diet. But what, if I be not myself, but only this be my spirit that wanders up and down, and Appetitus be killed in the camp? the devil he is as soon. How's that possible? tut, tut, I know I am. I am Appetitus, and alive, too--by this infallible token, that I feel myself hungry. MEN. Thou mightest have taken a better token of thyself, by knowing thou art a fool. [_Aside_.] APP. Well, then, though I made my fellow-soldiers admire the beauty of my back, and wonder at the nimbleness of my heels, yet now will I, at safety at home, tell in what dangers they are in abroad. I'll speak nothing but guns and glaves,[203] and staves and phalanges,[204] and squadrons and barricadoes, ambuscadoes, palmedoes, blank-point, demi-point,[205] counterpoint, counterscarp, sallies and lies, saladoes, tarantantaras, ranta, tara, tara, hey. MEN. I must take the fife out of his mouth, or he'll ne'er ha' done. [_Aside_.] APP. But, above all, I'll be sure on my knees to thank the great-- [MENDACIO _blinds him_. MEN. Who am I, who am I, who I? APP. By the blood-stained falchion of Mavors,[206] I am on your side. MEN. Why, who am I? APP. Are you a soldier? MEN. No. APP. Then you are Master Helluo the bearward. MEN. No, no; he's dead. APP. Or Gulono the gutty serjeant, or Delphino the vintner, or else I know you not; for these are all my acquaintance. MEN. Would I were hanged, if I be any of these!