And each one to his Office, when he wakes. [Some bear out Sly. Sound Trumpets. Sirrah, go fee what trumpet is that founds. Belike, fome noble gentleman that means, [Ex. Servant. Travelling fome journey, to repofe him here. SCENE III. Re-enter a Servant. How now? who is it? Ser. An't please your Honour, Players Enter Players. Now, Fellows, you are welcome. * 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 fo well : I have forgot your name; but, fure, that part Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd. Sim. I think, 'twas Soto that your Honour means. Lord. 'Tis very true; thou didft it excellent: Well, you are come to me in happy time, The rather for I have fome sport in hand, Wherein your cunning can affift me much. * It was in those times the cuftom of players to travel in companies, and offer their fervice ' at great houses. 7 I think, 'twas Soto] I take our Author here to be paying a Compliment to Beaumont and Fletcher's Women pleas'd, in which Comedy there is the Character of Soto, who is a Farmer's Son, and a very facetious Serving-man. Mr. Rowe and Mr. Pope prefix the Name of Sim to the Line here spoken; but the firft folio has it Sincklo; which, no doubt, was the Name of one of the Players here introduc'd, and who had play'd the Part of Soto with Applaufe. THEOBALD. B 4 There There is a Lord will hear you play to night; Play. Fear not, my lord, we can contain ourselves; Were he the verieft antick in the world. 2 Play. [to the other.] Go get a Difhclout to make clean your shoes, and I'll fpeak for the properties. [Exit Player. My lord, we must have a fhoulder 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, That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber, Property, in the language of a play-house, is every implement neceffary to the exhibition. 9 a little Vinegar to make our devil roar.] When the acting the myfteries of the old and new teftament was in vogue; at the reprefentation of the mystery of the Paffion, Judas and the Devil made a part. And the Devil, wherever he came, was always to fuffer fome difgrace, to make the people laugh: As here, the buffonery was to apply the gall and vinegar to make him roar, And the Paffion being that, of all WARBURTON, Such Such as he hath obferv'd in noble ladies [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; into extreams. In former editions, efteem'd himfeif I have ventur'd to alter a Word here, against the Authority of the printed Copies; and hope, I fhall be juftified in it by two fubfequent Paffages. That the [Exit Lord. Poct defign'd, the Tinker's fuppos'd Lunacy fhould be of fourteen Years ftanding at leaf, is evident upon two parallel Passages in the Play to that Parpole. THEOBALD. It is not unlikely that the onion was an expedient ufed by the actors of interludes. SCENE SCENE IV. Changes to a Bedchamber in the Lord's Houfe. Enter Sly with Attendants, fome with apparel, bafor and ewer, and other appurtenances. Re-enter Lord. Sly. F1 Serv. Will't please your Lordship drink FOR OR God's fake, a pot of small ale. a cup of fack? 2 Serv. Will't please your Honour taste of these Conferves? 3 Serv. What raiment will your Honour wear today? Sly. I am Chriftophero 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 afk 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, fometimes, more feet than fhoes; or fuch fhoes as my toes look through the over-leather. Lord. Heav'n ceafe this idle humour in nour! Oh, that a mighty man of such descent, your Ho Sly. What, would you make me mad? am not I Christophero Sly, old Sly's Son of Burton-beath, by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by tranfmutation a bearherd, and now by prefent profeffion a tinker? afk Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if the know me not; if fhe fay, I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, fcore me up for the lying'st knave in Christendom. What, I am not beftraught: here's 1 Man. 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 fhun your house. As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. Oh, noble Lord, bethink thee of thy birth, Wilt thou have mufick? hark, Apollo plays; [Mufick. Or wilt thou fleep? we'll have thee to a couch, On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. Say, thou wilt walk, we will beftrow the ground: 1 Man. Say, thou wilt courfe, thy greyhounds are as swift As breathed ftags; ay, fleeter than the roe. 2 Man. Doft thou love pictures? we will fetch thee ftrait Adonis, painted by a running brook; And Citherea 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 fhew thee To, as she was a maid, And how she 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 |