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Which otherwise would grow into extremes. (Excunt

(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.

Play. Fear not, my lord; we can coutain ourselres,
Were he the veriest antic


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 Serrant and Players.
Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page to a Serrant.)
And see him dress'd in all suits like a kedy:
That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber
And call him-madam, do him obeisance.
Tell him from me, (as lie will win
He bear himself with honourable action,
Such as he hath observed la noble ladies
Unto their lords, by them accomplished:
Such duty


the drunkard let him do,
With soft low tongue, and lowly couriesy:
S't your honour

will command,
Wherein your lady, and your humble wife,
May shew her duty, and make known her lore?

ith kind embracements, tempting kisses,
And with declining head into his
Bid him shed tears, as being orerjoyed

To see her noble lord restored to heal
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 conveyd,
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst ;
Anon I'll give thee more instructions.
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.
I'll in to counsel them : haply, my presence
May well abate the over-merry spleen,

[Erit Sertant

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SCENE II.-A Bedchamber in the Lord's Housc.
SLY is discovered in a rich night-goun, with Allen.

dants ; some with apparel, others with basin, euer,
and other uppurtenances. Enter Lord, dressed like
a serrant.
Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale. [sack?
1 Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of
2 Serr. Will't please your honour taste of these con.

serves ?
3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to day?

Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me-honour, nor lordship : I never drank sack in my life, and if 011 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 overleather.

Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour ! 0, 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 me mad? Am not 1 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 lyingest knave in Christendom. What, I am not bestraught : Here's

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

Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred shun your
As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. [house',
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 i Apollo plays, (Music)
And twenty cagéd nightingales do sing :
Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch,
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.
Say, thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground:

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down Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds:

(Sernants present an ewer, basin, and napkin.)

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 soar
Above the morning lark: Or wilt thou hunt?
Thy hounds shall make the welkia answer them,
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.

1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as
As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.
2 Serv. Dost ihou lose pictures ! we will fetch thee

brook And

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

Lord. We'll shew thee 18, as she was a maid;
And how she was beguiled and surprised,
As lively painted as the deed

was And at that sight shall sad

So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.

Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:

a lady far more beautiful Than any woman in this waning age.

[thee, 1 Serv. And till the tears, that she hath shed for Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face, She was the fairest creature in the world; And yet she is inferior to none.

Sly. Am I a lord ? and have I such a lads? Or do I dream ? or have I dream'd till now? I do not sleep : I see, I hear, I speak; 1 smell sweet savours, and I feel soft ihings:And not a tinker, nor Christophero SiyWell, bring our lady hither to our sight; And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale. o how we joy to see your wit restored ! o that once more you knew but what you are! These fifteen years you have been in a dream; Or, when you waked, so waked, as if you slept..

Sly. These Afteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap But did I never speak of all that time?

1 Serv. O yes, my lord; but very idle words:
For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you say, se were beaten out of door;
And rail upon the hostess of the house
And say, you would present her at the leeb,


alone,;-Servants, leave me and her

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Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts :
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.

Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.

Serv. Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such mald
Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd up,-
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell,
And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.

Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends !
Aủ. Amen.
Sly. I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it.

Enter the Page, as a lady, with Attendants.
Page. How fares my noble lord ?

Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough
Where is my wife?

Page. Here, noble lord : What is thy will with her ?
Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me

husband ?
My men should call me-lord ; I am your good-man.

Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and
I am your wife in all obedience.

Sly. I know it well. -What must I call her!
Lord. Madam
Sly. Ai'ce madam, or Joan madam ?
Lord. Madam, and nothing else ; so lords call ladies
Sly. Madam wife, they say that 1 have dream'd and
pove some fifteen year and more.

Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,
Being all this time abandon'd from your bed.

Sly. 'Tis
Madam, undress yo

noble lord, let me entreat of you,
To pardon me yet for a night or two;
Or, if not so, until the sun be set :
For your physicians have expressly charged,
In peril to incur your former malady,
That I should set absent me from your bed :
1 bope, this reason stands for my excuse.

Sly. Ay, it stands so, that I may hardly tarry so long. But I would be loth to fall into my dreams again ; ! will therefore tarry, in despite of the flesh and the blood

Enter a Servant.
Serv. Your honour's players, hearing your amend-
Aru come to play a pleasant comedy,


Thrics you, and come now to bed.


For so your doctors hold it very meet;
Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood,
Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play,
Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life.
commonty at Christmas gambon, or a tumbling trick

Page. No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff
Sly. What, household stuff?
Page. It is a kind of history.

Sly. Well, we'll see 't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side, and let the world slip; we shall ne'er be younger


SCENE I. - Padua. A public place.

Luc. Tranio, since-for the great desire 1 had
To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,
I am arrived for fruitful Lombardy,
The pleasant garden of great Italy;
And, by iny father's love and leave, am arm'd
With his good will, and thy good company.
Most trusty servant, well approved in all :
Here let us breathe, and happily institute
A course of learning, and ingenious studies.
Pisa, renowned for grave citizens,
A merchant of great traffic through the world,
Vincentio, come of the Bentirolii.
Vincentio his son, brought up in Florence,
It shall become, to serve all hopes conceived,
To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds:
And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,
Virtue and that part of philosophy
Will I apply, that treats of happiness,
By virtue specially to be achieved.
Tell me thy mind: for I have Pisa left,
And am to Padua come, as he that leaves
A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep.
And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst.

Tra. Afi perconate, gentle master mine,
I am in all affected as yourself;
Glad that you thas continue your resolve,

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