_Don._ Another, that there is no present time, and that one man to-day and to-morrow is not the same man; so that he that yesterday owed money, to-day owes none, because he is not the same man. 242 _Herod._ Would that philosophy[241] would hold good in law! _Herc._ But why has the duke thus labour'd to have all the fools shipp'd out of his dominions? _Don._ Marry, because he would play the fool himself alone, without any rival. _Herc._ Ware your breech, fool. _Don._ I warrant thee, old lad, 'tis the privilege of poor fools to talk before an intelligencer; marry, if I could fool myself into a lordship, as I know some ha' fool'd[242] themselves out of a lordship,--were I grown some huge fellow, and got the leer of the people upon me, if the fates had so decreed it,--I should talk treason, tho' I ne'er open'd my lips. 256 _Herc._ Indeed![243] _fatis agimur, cedite fatis!_ But how runs rumour?--what breath's strongest in the palace, now? I think you know all. _Don._ Yes, we fools think we know all. The prince hath audience to-night,--is feasted, and after supper is entertain'd with no comedy, masque, or barriers; but with---- _Nym._ What, I prithee? _Herod._ What, I prithee? _Don._ With a most new and special shape of delight. _Nym._ What, for Jove's sake? 267 _Don._ Marry, gallants, a session, a general council of love, summon'd in the name of Don Cupid, to which, upon pain of their mistress' displeasure, shall appear,--all favour-wearers, sonnet-mongers, health-drinkers, and neat enrichers[244] of barbers and perfumers; and to conclude, all that can wyhee or wag the tail, are, upon grievous pains of their back, summon'd to be assistant in that session of love. _Herc._ Hold! hold! Do not pall the delight before it come to our palate; and what other rumour keeps air in[245] men's lungs? _Don._ O, the egregiousness of folly! Ha' you not heard of Don Zuccone? 280 _Nym._ What of him, good fool? _Don._ He is separated. _Nym._ Divorced? _Don._ That salt,--that criticism,--that very all epigram of a woman,--that analysis,--that compendium of wittiness! _Nym._ Now, Jesu, what words the fool has! _Don._ We ha' still such words, but I will not unshale the jest before it be ripe, and therefore, kissing your worship's fingers, in most sweet terms, without any sense, and with most fair looks, without any good meaning, I most courtlike take my leave, _basilus_[246] _manus de vostro signioria_. 293 _Herod._ Stay, fool, we'll follow thee: for, 'fore Heaven, we must prepare ourselves for this session. [_Exeunt._