Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son ; t: Play. I think, 'twas Soto that your honour means. Play. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves, Were he the veriest antick in the world. 2Play. [to the other.] Go, get a dishclout to make clean your shoes, And I'll speak for the properties. My lord, [Exit Player. [Exit one with the Players. Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page, And fee 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 obeisance. Tell him from me, (as he will win my love) He bear himself with honourable action, Wherein tempting kisses, Wherein your lady, and your humble wife, Which otherwife would go into extremes. SCENE IV. [Exit Servant. [Exit Lord. A bedchamber in the Lord's house. Enter Sly with attendants, fome with apparel, bason and ewer, and other appurtenances. Reenter Lord. Sly. FOR god's fake a pot of small ale. 1 Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of fack? 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 ne'er drank sack in my life: and if you give me any conferves, 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 fuch shoes as my toes look through the overleather. Lord. Heav'n cease this idle humour in your honour! O, that a mighty man of fuch defcent, Sly. What, would you make me mad? am not I Christophero Sly, old Sly's fon of Burton-heath, by birth a pedler, by education a card-maker, by tranfmutation a bearherd, and now by present profession a tinker? ask Marian Hacket, the fat alewife 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 Man. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn. 2 Man. O, this it is that makes your servants droop. Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shun your house, On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. I Man. Say thou wilt course, thy greyhounds are as fwift As breathed stags; ay, fleeter than the roe. 2 Man. Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight Adonis, painted by a running brook; And Cytherea all in sedges hid; Which feem to move, and wanton with her breath, Lord. We'll show thee Io, as she was a maid, And how she was beguiled and furpris'd, 3 Man. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, Scratching her legs, that one shall swear she bleeds ; And at the fight 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 waining age. I Man. And till the tears that the hath shed for thee, And yet she is inferiour to none. Sly. Am I a lord, and have I such a lady? 2 Man. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands? O, how we joy to fee your wits restor'd! O, that once more you knew but what you are! Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap : But did I never speak of all that time? VOL. II. Kk I Man. 1 Man. O, yes, my lord, but very idle words. 3 Man. Why, fir, you know no house, nor no such maid; Nor no fuch men as you have reckon'd up, Sly. Now, lord be thanked for my good amends! All. Amen. Sly. By th' mass, I think, I am a lord indeed. What is thy name? Man. Simon, an't please your honour. Sly. Sim? that's as much as to say, Simeon or Simon; put forth thy hand, and fill the pot. SCENE V. Enter Lady with Attendants. Sly. I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it. Lady. How fares my noble lord? [gives him drink. Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough. Where is my wife? Lady. Here, noble lord, what is thy will with her? I am your wife in all obedience. Sly. I know it well: what must I call her ? Sly. Alce madam, or Joan madam? Lord. |