Say, what is it your Honour will command?
Let one attend him with a filver bafon.

Full of rofe-water, and beftrowed with flowers;
Another bear the ewer; a third a diaper;
And fay, Will't pleafe your Lordship cool your hands?
Some one be ready with a coftly fuit,
And ask him what apparel he will wear;
Another tell him of his hounds and horse,
And that his Lady mourns at his disease;
Perfuade him that he hath been lunatic.
And when he fays he is,-fay, that he dreams;
For he is nothing but a mighty Lord:..
This do, and do it kindly, gentle Sirs:
It will be pastime paffing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modesty.

1 Hun. My Lord, I'll warrant you we'll play our part,

As he shall think, by our true diligence,

He is no less than what we fay he is.

Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with him; And each one to his office when he wakes..

[Some bear out Sly. Sound Trumpets. Sirrah, ga fee what trumpet 'tis that founds. Belike fome noble gentleman that means,

[Exit Servant. Travelling fome journey, to repofe him here.

Re-enter Servant.

How now? who is it?

Ser. An't please your Honour, players, That offer fervice to your Lordship.

Lord. Bid them come near,

Enter Players.

Now, fellows, you are welcome.
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 remember, Since once he played 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 naturally performed.

Sim. I think 'twas Soto that your Honour means. (4)

Lord. 'Tis very true; thou didst it excellent :
Well, you are come to me in happy time,
The rather for I have fome fport 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: ourfelves,

Were he the verieft antic in the world.

2 Play. [to the other.] Go, get a difhclout to make clean your fhoes, 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 devit

roar.

(4) I think 'twas Soto] I take our Author here to be paying a compliment to Beaumont and Fletcher's Women Pleated, in which comedy there is the character of Soto, who is a farmer's fon, and a very facetious ferving-man. Mr Rowe and Mr Pope prefix the name of Sim to the line here fpoken; but the firft Folio has it Sincklo; which, no doubt, was the name of one of the players here introduced, and who had played the part of Soto with applause.

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 Bartholmew my page, And fee him drefs'd in all fuits 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, Such as he hath obferved in noble ladies Unto their lords, by them accomplished; Such duty to the drunkard let him do, With foft low tongue, and lowly courtefy; And day, 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 overjoyed To fee her noble Lord restored to health, Who for twice feven years hath esteemed himself (5) No better than a poor and loathfome beggar: And if the boy have not a woman's gift,

(5) Who for thefe seven years hath esteemed himself No better than a poor and loathfome beggar:] Phave ventured to alter a word here, against the authority of the printed copies; and hope, I shall be justified in it by two fubfequent paffages. That the Poet defigned the tinker's fuppofed lunacy fhould be of fourteen years ftanding, at least, seems to me evident upon thefe teftimonies.

These fifteen years have you been in a dream,☺.
Or, when you waked; fo waked as if you Bept.

Sly. Thefe fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap

And, again, Sly afterwards fays to the page, whom he takes

to be his lady,

Madam wife, they fay that I have dreamed and flepra

bove fome fifteen years and more,

To rain a fhower of commanded tears,
An onion will do well en fuch a thift;
Which, in a napkin being clofe conveyed,
Shall in defpight enforce a watery eye.

See this dispatched, with all the hate thou canft ;^
Anon I'll give thee more inftructions. [Exit Servant..
I know the boy will well ufurp the grace,.
*. Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman.

I long to hear him call the drunkard husband;
And how my men will ftay themselves from laughter.
When they do homage to this fimple peafant;
I'll in to counfek them: haply my prefence
May well abate the over-merry spleen,
Which otherwife would go into extremes..

[Exit Lords

SCENE changes to a Bedchamber in the Lord's Houfer Enter SLY with Attendants, fome with Apparel, Bafon and Ewer, and other Appurtenances. Reenter Lord.

Sly. For God's fake a pot of small ale.

Serv. Will't please your Lordship drink a cup of fack!

2 Seru. Will't please, your Honour to taste of thefe conferves?

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

Sly, I am Chriftophero Sly; call not me Honour, nor Lordfaip: I ne'er drank fack in my life; and if you give me any conferves, give me conferves of becf: ne'er afk me what raiment I'll wear, for 1 have no more doublets than backs, no more flockings 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. Heaven ceafe this idle humour in your HoOh, that a mighty man of fuch defcent, [nourt Of fuch poffeffions, and fo high esteem, n.. Should be infused with so foul a spirit!——

Sly. What, would you make me mad? am not IChistophero Sly, old Sly's fon of Burton-heath, by birth a pedler, by education a card-maker, by tranfmutation a bearherd, and now by prefent pro fellion a tinker? Afk Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if the know me not; if the fay I am not fourteen pence on the fcore for fheer ale, fcore me up for the lyingeft knave in Chriftendom.. What, I am not beftraught: 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 house,

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 thefe 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; [Mufic.
And twenty caged nightingales do fing.
Or wilt thou fleep? we'll have thee to a couch,
Softer and fweeter than the luitful bed
On purpose trimmed up for Semiramis.

Say thou wilt walk, we will beftrow the ground:
Or wilt thou ride? thy horfes fhall be trapped,
Their harness ftudded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking? thou haft hawks will foar
Above the morning lark. Or wilt thou hunt?
Thy hounds fhall make the welkin answer them,
And fetch fhrill echoes from the hollow earth.