Say, what is it your Honour will command? Full of rofe-water, and beftrowed with flowers; 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. 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 : 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,☺. 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, See this dispatched, with all the hate thou canft ;^ I long to hear him call the drunkard husband; [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, Wilt thou have mufic? hark, Apollo plays; [Mufic. Say thou wilt walk, we will beftrow the ground: |