fession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife 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. Oh, this it is that makes your lady mourn. 2 Man, Oh, this it is that makes your servants droop. Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shun your house, As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. Oh, noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth; 169 Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment. And banish hence these abject lowly dreams : Wilt thou have musick? hark! Apollo plays, And twenty caged nightingales do sing: [Musich Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch, On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. 180 Say, thou wilt walk; we will bestrow the ground: 1 Man. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift 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 seem to move and wanton with her breath, As lively painted as the deed was done. 190 3 Man. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny wood; Scratching her legs, that one shall swear she bleeds: And at that sight 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. 199 1 Man. And, 'till the tears, that she hath shed for thee, Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face, Sly. Am I a lord? and have I such a lady? I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things:- 210 And And not a tinker, nor Christopher Sly.- 2 Man. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands? Oh, how we joy to see your wit restor’d! Oh, that once more you knew but what you are! lord; but 221 very idle words : : 1 Man. Oh, yes, my And say, you would present her at the leet, 3 Man. Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such maid; Nor no such men, as you have reckon❜d up--- 230 Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends! Sly. I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it. Enter Enter the Page, as a Lady, with Attendants. Lady. How fares my noble lord ? Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough. Where is my wife? 241 Lady. Here, noble lord; What is thy will with her? Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me-husband? My men should call me-lord, I am your good-man. Lady. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband; I am your wife in all obedience. Sly. I know it well :-What must I call her? Sly. Alce madam, or Joan madam ? Lord. Madam, and nothing else; so lords call la dies. 250 Sly. Madam wife, they say, that I have dream'd, and slept Above some fifteen years and more. Lady. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me; Being all this time abandon'd from your bed. Sly. 'Tis much ; alone -Servants, leave me and her Madam, undress you, and come now to-bed. Lady. Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you, To pardon me yet for a night or two; Or, if not so, until the sun be set: For your physicians have expressly charg'd, 260 In peril to incur your former malady, That I should yet absent me from your bed: Sly. Ay, it stands so, that I may hardly tarry so long. But I would be loth to fall into my dreams again; I will therefore tarry, in despight of the flesh and the blood. Enter a Messenger. Mess. Your honour's players, hearing your amend ment, Are come to play a pleasant comedy, For so your doctors hold it very meet; 270 Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood, Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play, Sly. Marry, I will; let them play it: Is not a commonty a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick? Lady. No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff. Sly. What, household stuff? 280 Lady. It is a kind of history. Sly. Well, we'll see't: Come, madam wife, sit by my side, and let the world slip; we shall ne'er be younger. ACT |