« 上一頁繼續 »
And, when he says he is -, say, that he dreams,
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?
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 remerar
ber, Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son ;
1 Naturally. 3 Moderation.
'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 means.
Lord. 'Tis very true;-thou didst it excellent.-
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 our
Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery,
[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 obsery'd in noble ladies Unto their lords, by them accomplished : Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy ;
A Bedchamber in the Lord's House,
Sly is discovered in a rich night gown, with At
tendants; 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 to
day? 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 ho
Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-heath; by birth a pedler, by education a card-maker, by trans
mutation 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:4 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
1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are