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Gent. Marry, as I take it, t Rousillon; Whither I am going.

Hel. I do beseech you, Sir,

Since you are like to see the king before me,
Commend the paper to his gracious hand;
Which, I presunie, shall render you no blame,
But rather make you thank your pains for it:
I will come after you, with what good speed
Our means will make us means.

Gent. This I'll do for you.

Hel. And you shall find yourself to be wellthank'd,

Whate'er falls more.-We must to horse again;
Go, go, provide.


SCENE 11.-Rousillon.-The inner Court of the COUNTESS's Palace.

Enter CLOWN and PARolles. Par. Good monsieur Lavatch, give my lord Lafeu this letter: I have ere now, Sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes; but I am now, Sir, muddied in fortune's moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure.

Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smells so strong as thou speak'st of: I will hence. forth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. Pr'ythee, allow the wind.

Par. Nay, you need not stop your nose, Sir; I spake but by a metaphor.

Clo. Indeed, Sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or against any man's metaphor. Pr'ythee, get thee further.

Par. Pray you, Sir, deliver me this paper. Clo. Foh, pr'ythee, stand away; a paper from fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he comes himself.

Enter LAFEC.

Here is a pur of fortune's, Sir, or of fortune's cat, (but not a musk-cat,) that has fallen into the unclean fish pond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal: pray you, Sir, use the carp as you may: for he looks like a poor, decay'd, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my smiles of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. [Exit Clown. Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly scratch'd.

Laf. And what would you have me to do? 'Tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you play'd the knave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady, and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There's a quart d'cou for you: let the justices make you and fortune friends; I am for other business. Par. I beseech your honour, to hear me one single word.

Laf. You beg a single penny more: come, you shall ha't; save your word.

Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. Laf. You beg more than one word then.-Cox' my passion! Give me your hand :-How does your

drum 1

Par. O my good lord, you were the first that found me.

Laf. Was I, in sooth? And I was the first that lost thee.

Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some grace, for you did bring me out.

Laf. Out upon thee, knave! Dost thou put upon me at once both the office of God and the devil? One brings thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. [Trumpets sound.] The king's coming, I know by his trumpets.-Sirrah, inquire further after me; I had talk of you last night: though you are a fool and a knave, you shall eat; go to, follow. Par. I praise God for you. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The same.—A Room in the COUNTESS'S Palace.

Flourish. Enter KING, COUNTESS, LAFEU, LORDS, GENTLEMEN, Guards, &c.

King. We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem + Was made much poorer by it: but your son, As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know Her estimation home.

• You need not ask-here it is.

+ Reckoning or estimate.

Count. Tis past, my lege;

And I beseech your majesty to make it
Natural rébellion, done i' the blaze of youth;
When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
O'erbears it, and burns on.

King. My honour'd lady,

I have forgiven and forgotten all;
Though my revenges were high bent upon him,
And watch'd the time to shoot.

Laf. This I must say,—

But first I beg my pardon,-The young lord
Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady,
Offence of mighty note: but to himself
The greatest wrong of all: he lost a wife,
Whose beauty did astonish the survey

Of richest eyes; whose words all ears took captive; Whose dear perfection, hearts that scorn'd to serve, Humbly call'd mistress.

King. Praising what is lost,

Makes the remembrance dear.-Well, call him hither ;

We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill
All repetition :-Let him not ask our pardon;
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion do we bury
The incensing relics of it: let him approach,
A stranger, no offender; and inform him,
So 'tis our will he should.
Gent. I shall, my liege.
[Exit Gentleman.
King. What says he to your daughter? Have you

Laf. All that he is hath reference to your high


King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters

sent me.

That set him high in fame.


Laf. He looks well on't.

King. I am not a day of season ‡, For thou may'st see a sun-shine and a hail In me at once: but to the highest beams Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth, The time is far again.

Ber. My high-repented blames §,
Dear sovereign, pardon to me.
King. All is whole;

Not one word more of the consumed time.
Let's take the instant by the forward top;
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
The inaudible and noiseless foot of time
Steals ere we can effect them: you remember
The daughter of this lord?

Ber. Admiringly, my liege: at first
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Darst make too bold a herald of my tongue :
Where the impression of mine eye infixing,
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which, warp'd the line of every other favour;
Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stolen;
Extended or contracted all proportions,
To a most hideous object: thence it came,
That she whom all men praised, and whom myself,
Since I have lost, have loved, was in mine eye

The dust that did offend it.

King Well excused:

That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away
For the great compt: but love, that comes too late,
Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
To the great sender turns a sour offence,
Crying, that's good that's gone: our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them, until we know their grave:
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust:
Our own love waking cries to see what's done,
While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon.
Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin:
The main consents are had; and here we'll stay
To see our widower's second marriage day.
Count. Which better than the first, O dear hea-
ven, bless!

Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease!

• So in As you like it :- to have seen much and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands.'

ti. e. The first interview shall put an end to all recollection of the past.

i. e. Of uninterrupted rain."
Faults repented of to the utmost.

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Of what should stead her most?

Rer. My gracious sovereign,

Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,

The ring was never her's.

Count. Son, on my life,

I have seen her wear it; and she reckon'd it
At her iite's rate.

La I am sure, I saw her wear it.

Br You are deceived, my lord, she never saw it; In Fiorence was it from a casement thrown me, Wrapp'd in a paper, which contain'd the name Or her that threw it: noble she was, and thought I stood ingaged but when I had subscribed To mine own tortune, and intorm'd her fully, I could not answer in that course of honour As she had made the overture, she ceased In heavy satisfaction, and would never Receive the ring again.

King, Piutus himself,

That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine t,
Hath not in nature's mystery more science,
Than I have in this ring: twas mine, 'twas Helen's,
Whoever gave it you: then, it you know
That you are well acquainted with yourself,
Contess 'twas hers, and by what rough-enforcement
You got it from her: she call'd the saints to surety,
That she would never put it from her finger,
Unless she gave it to yourself in bed
(Where you have never come), or sent it us
Upon her great disaster.

Ber. She never saw it.

King. Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine ho


And makest conjectural fears to come into me,
Which I would fain shut out: if it should prove
That thou art so inhuman,-'twill not prove so :—
And yet I know not :-Thou didst hate her deadly,
And she is dead; which nothing, but to close
Her eyes myself, could win me to believe,
More than to see this ring.-Take him away.-
[Guards seize Bertram.
My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,
Shall tax my fears of little vanity,
Having vainly fear'd too little.-Away with him;-
We'll sift this matter further.

Ber. It you shall prove

This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy
Prove that I husbanded her bed in Florence,
Where yet she never was.

¡Exit Bertram guarded.


King. I an. wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.
Gent. Gracious sovereign,

Whether I have been to blame, or no, I know not;
Here's a petition from a Fiorentine,
Who hath, for four or five removes §, come short
To tender it herself. I undertook it,
Vanquish'd thereto by the tair grace and speech
Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know,
Is here attending: her business looks in her
With an importing visage; and she told me,
In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
Your highness with herself.

King. [Reads.]-Upon his many protestations to marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the count Rousillon a widower; his vows are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to his country for justice: Grant it me,

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O king; in you it best lies: otherwise a seducer flou
rishes, and a poor maid is undone.
Diana Capulet.
Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and
toll him; for this, I'll none of him.

King. The heavens have thought well on thee,

To bring forth this discovery.-Seek these suitors:-
Go, speedily, and bring again the count.
[Exeunt Gentleman, and some Attendants.
I am afeard, the life of Helen, lady,
Was foully snatch'd.

Count. Now, justice on the doers!

Enter BERTRAM, guarded.

King. I wonder, Sir, since wives are monsters to you,

And that you fly them as you swear them lordship,
Yet you desire to marry.-What woman's that!
Re-enter GENTLEMAN, with WIDOW and DIANA.
Dia. I am, my lord, a wretched Fiorentine,
Derived from the ancient Capulet;
And therefore know how far I may be pitied.
My suit, as I do understand, you know,
Wid. I am her mother, Sir, whose age and honour
Both suffer under this complaint we bring,
And both shall cease +, without your remedy,
King. Come hither, count; do you know these


Ber. My lord, I neither can nor will deny
But that I know them: do they charge me further!
Dia. Why do you look so strange upon your wile?
Ber. She's none of mine, my lord.
Dia. If you shall marry,

You give away this hand, and that is mine;
You give away myself, which is known mine;
You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine
For I by vow am so embodied yours,
Either both, or none.
That she, which marries you, must marry me,

Laf. Your reputation [To Bertram] coxies too short for my daughter, you are no husband for her. Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate crea


Whom sometime I have laugh'd with: let your highness

Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour,
Than for to think that I would sink it here.

King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them i!! to friend,

Till your deeds gain them: Fairer prove your ho


Than in my thought it lies!

Dia. Good my lord,

He had not my virginity.

Ask him upon his oath, if he does think

were so,

King. What say'st thou to her?
And was a comnion gamester to the camp.
Ber. She's impudent, my lord;
Dia. He does me wrong, my lord; it
He might have bought me at a common price:
Do not believe him: O, behold this ring,
Whose high respect, and rich validity 9,
Did lack a parallel; yet, for all that,
He gave it to a commoner o' the camp,
If I be one.

Count. He blushes, and 'tis it:

Of six preceding ancestors, that gem
Hath it been owed, and worn. This is his wife;
Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue,
That ring's a thousand proofs.

King. Methought, you said,

You saw one here in court could witness it.
Dia. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce
So bad an instrument; his name's Parolles.
Laf. I saw the man to-day, if man he be.
King. Find him, and bring him hither.
Ber. What of him?

He's quoted for a most perfidious slave,
With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd¶;
Whose nature sickens, but to speak a truth:
That will speak any thing?
Am I or that, or this, for what he'll utter,

King. She hath that ring of yours.

Ber. I think, she has: certain it is, I liked her, And boarded her i' the wanton way of youth;

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She knew her distance, and did angle for me,
Madding my eagerness with her restraint,
As all impediments in fancy's course
Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine,
Her insuit coming with her modern grace,
Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring;
And I had that, which any inferior might
At market-price have bought.

Dia. I must be patient;

You, that turn'd off a first so noble wife,
May justly diet me. I pray you yet,

(Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband)
Send for your ring, I will return it home,
And give me mine again.

Ber. I have it not.

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Is this the man you speak of?

Dia. Ay, my lord.

King. Tell me, sirrah, but, tell me true, I charge

Not fearing the displeasure of your master,
(Which, on your just proceeding, I'll keep off,)
By him, and by this woman here, what know you!
Par. So please your majesty, my master hath
been an honourable gentleman; tricks he hath had
in him, which gentlemen have.

King. Come, come, to the purpose: Did he love this woman?

Par. 'Faith, Sir, he did love her; but how?
King. How, I pray you?

Par. He did love her, Sir, as a gentleman loves

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Laf. This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes off and on at pleasure.

King. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife.
Dia. It might be yours, or hers, for aught I know.
King. Take her away, I do not like her now;
To prison with her: and away with him.-
Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring,
Thou diest within this hour.

Dia. I'll never tell you.

King. Take her away.

Dia. I'll put in bail, my liege.

King. I think thee now some common customer,
Dia. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you.
King. Wherefore hast thou accused him all this

Dia. Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty;
He knows, I am no maid, and he'll swear to't:
I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not.
Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life;
I am either maid, or else this old man's wife.
[Pointing to Lafeu.

King. She does abuse our ears; to prison with

Dia. Good mother-fetch my bail.-Stay, royal
[Exit Widow.

The jeweller, that owes the ring is sent for,
And he shall surety me. But for this lord,
Who hath abused me, as he knows himself,
Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him :
He knows himself, my bed he hath defiled;
And at that time he got his wife with child:
Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick;
So there's my riddle, One, that's dead, is quick:
And now behold the meaning.

Re-enter WIDOW with HELENA.
King. Is there no exorcist
Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes?
Is't real, that I see?

Hel. No, my good lord;

'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
The name, and not the thing.

Ber. Both, both; O, pardon !

Hel. O, my good lord, when I was like this maid,
I found you wond'rous kind. There is your ring,
And, look you, here's your letter; this it says,
When from my finger you can get this ring,
And are by me with child, &c.-This is done :
Will you be mine, now you are doubly won?
Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this


I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.

Hel. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue,
Deadly divorce step between me and you !—
O, my dear mother, do I see you living?
Laf. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon:

kerchief: so, I thank thee; wait on me home, I'll
make sport with thee: let thy courtesies alone, they
are scurvy ones.

Dia. Do you know, he promised me marriage? Par. 'Faith, I know more than I'll speak. King. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st?-Good Tom Drum, [To Parolles.] lend me a handPar. Yes, so please your majesty; I did go between them, as I said; but more than that, he loved her, for, indeed, he was mad for her, and talk'd of Satan, and of limbo, and of furies, and I know not what: yet I was in that credit with them at that time, that I knew of their going to bed; and of other motions as promising her marriage, and things that would derive me ill will to speak of, therefore I will not speak what I know.

King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou canst say they are married: but thou art too fine in thy evidence; therefore stand aside.This ring, you say was yours?

Dia. Ay, my good lord.

King. Where did you buy it? Or who gave it you?
Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.
King. Who lent it you?

Dia. It was not lent me, neither.

King. Where did you find it then?

Dia. I found it not.

King. Let us from point to point this story know,
To make the even truth in pleasure flow :-
If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower,

[To Diana.
Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower;
For I can guess, that, by the honest aid,
Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.-
Of that, and all the progress, more and less,
Resolvedly more leisure shall express :
All yet seems well; and, if it end so meet,
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.


The king's a beggar, now the play is done : ·
All is well ended, if this suit be won,

That you express content; which we will pay,
With strife to please you, day exceeding day :

King. If it were yours by none of all these ways, Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts,

How could you give it him?

Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.

Dia. I never gave it him.

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Servants to Petruchio.


CHARACTERS IN THE INDUCTION To the original Play of The Taming of a Skrew, entered on the Stationers' books in 1594, and printed in quarto in 1697.

A Lord, &c.

A Tapster.

Page, Players, Huntsmen, &c.


ALPHONSUS, a Merchant of Athens.
JEROBEL, Duke of Cestus.

AURELIUS, his Son,



Suitors to the Daughters of

VALERIA, Servant to Aurelius.
SANDER, Servant to Ferando.

PEDANT, an old fellow set up to personate Vincentio. PHYLOTUS, a Merchant who personates the Duke.

KATHARINA, the Shrew;

BIANCA, her Sister,


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Daughters to Alphonsus.

Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants to Ferando and
Baptista and Petruchio.

Scene, sometimes in Padua; and sometimes in Pe- Scene, Athens; and sometimes Ferando's Country-
truchio's House in the Country.



SCENE 1.-Before an Alehouse on a Heath.

Enter HOSTESS and SLY.

Sly. I'll pheese you, in faith.
Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue!

Sly. Y'are a baggage; the Slies are no rogues
look in the chronicles, we came in with Richard
Conqueror. Therefore, paucas pallabris †, let the
world slide: Sessa !

Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have
Sly. No, not a denier :-Go by, says Jeronimy:-
Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee .

Host. I know my remedy, I must go fetch the

Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, P'il an-
swer him by law; I'll not budge an inch, boy; iet
him come, and kindly.

[Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep.
Wind Horns.-Enter a LORD from hunting, with
Huntsmen and Servants.

Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my

Brach Merriman,-the poor cur is emboss'd **,
And couple Clouder with the deep-mouth'd brach.
Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault?
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.

1 Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;
He cried upon it at the merest loss,
And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent:
Trust me,
I take him for the better dog.
Lord. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fleet,

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I would esteem him worth a dozen such.
But sup them well, and look unto them all;
To-morrow I intend to hunt again.

1 Hun. I will, my lord.

Lord. What's here? One dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe ?

2 Hun. He breathes, my lord :-Were he not
This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.
warm'd with ale,
Lord. O monstrous beast! How like a swine he

Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image!
Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.-
What think you, if he were convey'd to bed,
Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers,
And brave attendants near him when he wakes,
A most delicious banquet by his bed,
Would not the beggar then forget himself?

1 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot

2 Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he waked.

Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worth-less

Carry him gently to my fairest chamber,
Then take him up, and manage well the jest :-
And hang it round with all my wanton pictures :
Balm his foul head with warm distilled waters,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet:
Procure me music ready when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound;
And, with a low submissive reverence,
And if he chance to speak, be ready straight,
Say, What is it your honour will command?
Let one attend him with a silver bason,
Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers;
Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper*,
And say,-Will't please your lordship cool your

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And that his lady mourns at his disease:
Persuade him, that he hath been lunatic;
And when he says he is-, say, that he dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty lord.
Tiais do, and do it kindly, gentle Sirs;
It will be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modesty *.

1 Hun. My lord, I warrant you, we'll play our

As he shall think, by our true diligence,
He is no less than what we say he is.

Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with him, And each one to his office, when he wakes.

[Some bear out Sly.-A trumpet sounds. Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds;[Exit Servant. Belike, some noble gentleman; that means, Travelling some journey, to repose him here.Re-enter a SERVANT.

How now? Who is it?

Ser. An it please your honour, Players that offer service to your lordship. Lord. Bid them come near :


Now, fellows you are welcome.

1 Play. We thank your honour. Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night? 2 Play. So please your lordship to accept our duty.

Lord. With all my heart.-This fellow I remember, Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son ;'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well: I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd.

1 Play. I think, 'twas Soto, that your honour


Lord. 'Tis very true;-thou didst it excellent.— Well, you are come to me in happy time; The rather for I have some sport in hand, Wherein your cunning can assist me much. There is a lord will hear you play to-night: But I am doubtful of your modesties; Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour, (For yet his honour never heard a play,) You break into some merry passion, And so offend him; for I tell you, Sirs, If you should smile, he grows impatient.

1 Play. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves,

Were he the veriest antic in the world.

Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery,
And give them friendly welcome every one;
Let them want nothing that my house affords.-
[Exeunt Servant and Players.
Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew, my page.
To a Servant.
And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady:
That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber,
And call him-madam, do him obeisance.
Tell him from me, (as he will win my love,)
He bear himself with honourable action,
Such as he hath observed in noble ladies
Unto their lords, by them accomplish'd:
Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy;
And say,-What is't your honour will command,
Wherein your lady, and your humble wife,
May shew her duty, and make known her love?
And then, with kind embracements, tempting kisses,
And with declining head into his bosom,-
Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd
To see her noble lord restored to health,
Who, for twice seven years, hath esteem'd him
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar:
And if the boy have not a woman's gift,

To rain a shower of commanded tears,
An onion will do well for such a shift;

Which in a napkin being close convey'd,
Shall in despite enforce a watry eye,

See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst;
Anon I'll give thee more instructions.-

[Exit Servant. I know, the boy will well usurp the grace, Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman:

I long to hear him call the drunkard, husband; And how my men will stay themselves from laughter,

When they do homage to this simple peasant.

• Moderation.

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SCENE II.-A Bedchamber in the LORD's House.

SLY is discovered in a rich Night Gown, with Attendants; some with Apparel, others with Bason, Ewer, and other Appurtenances.-Enter LORD, dressed like a Servant.

Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale.

1 Serv. Will 't please your lordship drink a cup of sack?

2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these conserves?

3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear today?

Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me-honour, nor lordship: I never drank sack in my life; and if you give me any conserves, give me conserves of beef: ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay, sometimes, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the over-leather.

Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your


O, that a mighty man, of such descent,
Of such possessions, and so high esteem,
Should be infused with so foul a spirit!"

Sly. What, would you make a man? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-heath; by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the lying'st knave in Christendom. What, I am not bestraught: Here's

1 Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn. 2 Serv. O, this it is that makes your servants droop.

Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shun your house,

As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.
O, noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth;
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams :
Look how thy servants do attend on thee,
Each in his office ready at thy beck.

Wilt thou have music? Hark! Apollo plays, [Music.
And twenty caged nightingales do sing:
Or wilt thou sleep? We'll have thee to a couch,
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
Or purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.
Say, thon wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground:
Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shall be trapp'd,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will


Above the morning lark: Or wilt thou hunt? Thy hounds shall make the welk answer them, And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth: 1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift

As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe

2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures? We will fetch thee straight

Adonis, painted by a running brook;
And Cytherea all in sedges hid;

Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.

Lord. We'll shew thee Io, as she was a maid; And how she was beguiled and surprised, As lively painted as the deed was done.

3 Serv. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny wood;

Scratching her legs, that one shall swear she bleeds;
And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.
Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:
Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waning age.

1 Serv. And, till the tears, that she hath shed for thee,

Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world;
And yet she is inferior to none.

Sty. Am I a lord? And have I such a lady?

* Distracted.

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