SCENE III.

Re-enter Servant.

How now? who is it?

Ser. An't pleafe your Honour, players Thas offer fervice to your Lordship.

Lord. Bid then come near.

Enter Players.

Now, fellows, you are welcome.

Play. We thank your Honour.

Lord. Do you intend to ftay with me to-night? 2 Play. So please your Lordfhip to accept our duty. Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember, Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest fon :

'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman fo well : I have forgot your name; but, fure, that part Was aptly fitted, and natally perform'd.

Sim. I think 'twas Soto that your Honour means. 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 modefties, Left, over-eying of his odd behaviour, (For yet his Honour never heard a play), You break into fome merry paffion, And fo offend him: for I tell you, Sirs, If you fhould fmile, he grows impatient.

Play. Fear not, my Lord, we can contain ourselves; Were he the verieft antic in the world.

2 Play. [to the other.] Go get a difhclout to make clean your shoes, and I'll speak for the properties. [Exit Player. My Lord, we must have a shoulder of mutton for a property, and a little vinegar to make our devil roar. Lord. Go, firrah, take them to the buttery, And give them friendly welcome every one: Let them want nothing that the house affords.

[Exit one with the players. Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page, 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 all obeifance.
Tell him from me, (as he will win my love),
He bear himself with honourable action,
Such as he hath obferv'd in noble ladies
Unto their Lords, by them accomplished;
Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
With foft low tongue, and lowly courtesy;
And fay, What is 't your Honour will command,
Wherein your lady, and your humble wife,
May fhew her duty, and make known her love?
And then with kind embracements, tempting kiffes
And with declining head into his bofom,
Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd
To fee her Noble Lord reftor'd to health,
Who for twice feven years hath esteem'd himself
No better than a poor and lothfome beggar.
And if the boy have not a woman's gift
To rain a fhower of commanded tears,-
An onion will do well for fuch a shift;
Which in a napkin being clofe convey'd,.
Shall in defpight enforce a wat'ry eye.
See this difpatch'd with all the hafte thou canft;
Anon I'll give thee more inftructions. [Exit Servant
I know the boy will well ufurp the grace,
Voice, gate, 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 fimple geafant.
I'll in to counfel them: haply my prefence

May well abate the over-merry fpleen,
Which otherwife will go into extremes.

SCENE

Exit Lord

IV..

Changes to a bedchamber in the Lord's houfe.

Enter Sly with attendants, fome with apparel, bafon and ewer, and other appurtenances. Re-enter Lord Sly. For God's fake, a pot of fmall alé.

Serv. Will't please your Lordship drink a cup of fäck?

2 Serv. Will't please your Honour taste of thefe conferves!

3 Serv. What raiment will your Honour wear to-day?

Sly. I am Chriftopher Sly, call not me Honour, nor Lordship: I ne'er drank fack in my life; and if you give me any conferves, give me conferves of beef: ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more ftockings than legs, nor no more fhoes than feet; nay fometimes more feet than fhoes, or fuch fhoes as my toes look through the over-leather.

Lord. Heav'n cease this idle humour in your Honour ! Oh that a mighty man of such descent, Of fuch poffeffions, and fo high esteem, Should be infused with so foul a spirit !

Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not F Christophero Sly, old Sly's fon of Burton-heath, by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by tranfmutation a bear-herd, and now by prefent profeffion a tinker? Afk Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she know me not; if the fay I am not fourteen pence on the fcore for fheer ale, fcore me up for the lying'ft knave in Chriftendom. What! I am not befraught here's

1 Man. Oh, this it is that makes your lady mourn.. 2 Man. Oh, this. it is that makes your fervants

droop..

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

As beaten hence by your ftrange lunacy.

Oh, Noble Lord, bethink thee of thy birth,

Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.

Look how thy fervants do attend on thee,

Each in his office ready at thy beck.

Wilt thou have mufic? hark, Apollo plays; [Music,

And twenty caged nightingales do fing,

Or wilt thou fleep? we'll have thee to a couch,

Softer and fweeter than the luftful bed

• On parpofe trimm'd up for Semiramis.

Say thou wilt walk, we will beftrow the ground:,
Cr wilt thou ride? thy horfes fhall be trapp'd,

Their harness ftudded all with gold and pearl.
Doft thou love hawking? thou haft hawks will foar
Above the morning-lark, Or wilt thou hunt?
Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them,
And fetch fhrill echoes from the hollow earth.

1 Man. Say thou wilt courfe, thy greyhounds are as As breathed flags; ay, fleeter than the roe. [fwift, 2 Man. Doft thou love pictures? we will fetch thee Adonis, painted by a running brook; [ftraight

And Cytherea all in fedges hid;

Which feem to move, and wanton with her breath,
Ev'n as the waving fedges play with wind.

Lord. We'll thew thee Io, as fhe was a maid,
And how fhe was beguiled and furpris'd,

As lively painted as the deed was done.

3 Man. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, Scratching her legs, that one fhall fwear fhe bleeds : And at that fight shall fad Apollo weep:

So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.

Lord. Thou art a Lord, and nothing but a Lord: Thou haft a Lady far more beautiful

Than any woman in this waining age.

1 Man. And till the tears that the hath fhed for thee, Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face, She was the faireft creature in the world,

And yet fhe is inferior to none.

Sly. Am I a Lord, and have I fuch a Lady?
Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now?
I do not fleep; I fee, I hear, I fpeak;
I fmell fweet favours, and I feel foft things..
Upon my life, I am a Lord indeed;

And not a tinker, nor Chriftophero Sly.
Well, bring our Lady hither to our fight,
And once again a pot o' th' fmalleft ale.

2 Man. Wilt please your Mightinefs to wash your
Oh, how we joy to fee your wits restor❜d! [hands
Oh, that once more you knew but what you are!
These fifteen years you have been in a dream,
Or, when you wak'd, fo wak'd as if you flept.
Sly. Thefe fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly map
But did I never speak of all that time?

1 Man. Oh, yes, my Lord, but very idle words..

For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you fay, , you were beaten out of door,
And rail'd upon the hoftefs of the houfe;

And fay, you would prefent her at the leet,
Because fhe bought ftone-jugs, and no feal'd quarts.
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the houfe.

[maid,

3 Man. Why, Sir, you know no house, nor no fuche
Nor no fuch 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 fuch names and men as thefe,
Which never were, nor no man ever faw.

Sly. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!
All. Amen.

Sly. By th' mafs, I think I am a Lord indeed.
What is thy name. ?

Man. Sim, an't pleafe your Honour.

Sly. Sim? that's as much as to fay Simeon or Simon;, put forth thy hand and fill the pot..

[The fervant gives him drink..

SCENE V. Enter Lady, with attendants..

I thank thee; thou fhalt not lofe by it..
Lady. How fares my Noble Lord?

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

Lady. Here, Noble Lord, what is thy will with her?"
Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me hufband?
My men fhould call me Lord, I am your good-man.
Lady. My husband and my lord, my lord and huf-
I am your wife in all obedience.
[band;;

Sly. I know it well what muft I call her..
Lord. Madam.

Sly. Alce Madam, or Joan Madam?

Lord. Madam, and nothing elfe; fo Lords call Ladies,. Sly. Come, fit down on my knee. Sim, drink to her.. Madam wife, they fay that I have dream'd, and flẹpt above fome fifteen years and more.

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

'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone,