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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,
fhould finile, he grows impatient.

If

you

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 fhoes; and I'll fpeak for the properties 3. [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, And fee him dreft 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,

Property, in the language of a play-houfe, is every implement neceffary to the exhibition.

9 A little Vinegar to make cur 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 buffoonery was to apply the gall and vinegar to make him roar.

And the Paffion being that, of
all the myfteries, which was most
frequently reprefented, vinegar
became at length the ftanding
implement to torment the De-
vil: And used for this purpose
even after the myfteries ccafed,
and the moralities came in vogue;
where the Devil continued to
have a confiderable part.
The mention of it here was to
ridicule fo abfurd a circumstance
in thefe old farces.

WARBURTON.

Such

Such as he hath obferv'd in noble ladies
Unto their lords, by them accomplish'd;
Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
With foft low tongue, and lowly courtesy;
And fay; 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 fhed tears, as being over-joy'd
To fee her noble lord reftor'd to health,
Who for twice feven years hath efteem'd himself'
No better than a poor and loathfome beggar:
And if the boy have not a woman's gift
To rain a fhower of commanded tears, .
An* onion will do well for fuch a shift;
Which in a Napkin being clofe convey'd,
Shall in defpight enforce a wat❜ry eye.
See this dispatch'd, with all the hafte thou canft;
Anon I'll give thee more inftructions. [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;
And how my men will stay themfelves for laughter,
When they do homage to this fimple peafant.
I'll in to counfel them: haply, my prefence
May well abate the over-merry fpleen;

Which otherwife will go into extreams. [Exit Lord.

1 In former editions, Who for these feven Years bath efleem'd himself No better than a poor and loathSome Beggar.]

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

Poet defign'd, the Tinker's fuppos'd Lunacy fhould be of fourteen Years standing at least, is evident upon two parallel Paffages in the Play to that Purpose.

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, bafon and ewer, and other appurtenances. Re-enter Lord.

Sly.

OR God's fake, a pot of fmall ale.

FOR

1 Sero. Wilt pleafe your Lordship drink 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 ftockings 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. Heav'n ceafe this idle humour in your Ho

nour!

Oh, that a mighty man of fuch descent, Of fuch poffeffions, and fo high esteem, Should be infufed with fo foul a fpirit!

Sly. What would you make me mad? am not I Chriftophero 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 poffeffion a tinker? afk Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she know me not; if the fay, I am not fourteen pence on the score for fheer ale, fcore me up for the lying'st knave in Chriftendom. What, I am not beftraught: here's

1 Men. Oh, this it is that makes your lady mourn. 2 Mar. Oh, this it is that makes your fervants

droop.

Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred fhun 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 mufick? hark, Apollo plays; [Mufick.
And twenty caged nightingales do fing.
Or wilt thou fleep? we'll have thee to a couch,
Softer and fweeter than the luftful bed
On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.

Say, thou wilt walk, we will beftrow the ground:
Or wilt thou ride? thy horfes fhall be trapp'd,
Their harness ftudded all with gold and pearl.
Doft 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.

I Man. Say, thou wilt courfe, thy greyhounds are
as fwift

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 Io, as fhe was a maid,
And how he 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

And at that fight fhall fad Apollo weep:

So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.

Lord. Thou art a Lord, and nothing but a Lord : Thou haft a lady far more beautiful

Than any woman in this waining age.

1 Man. And 'till the tears, that the hath fhed for thee,

Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world,
And yet fhe is inferior to none.

Sly. Am I a Lord, and have I fuch a Lady?
Or do I dream? or have I dreamt 'till now?
I do not fleep; I fee, I hear, I speak;
I smell fweet favours, and I feel soft things:
Upon my life, I am a Lord, indeed;
And not a Tinker, nor Chriftophero Sly.
Well, bring our Lady hither to our fight,
And once again, a pot o'th' fmallest ale.

2 Man. Wilt please your Mightiness to wash your hands?

Oh, how we joy to fee your wits reftor'd!
Oh, that once more you knew but what you are!
These fifteen years you have been in a dream,
Or, when you wak'd, fo wak'd as if you flept.

Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap: But did I never fpeak of all that time?

1 Man. Oh, yes, my Lord, but very idle words. For tho' you lay here in this goodly chamber, Yet would you fay, ye were beaten out of door, And rail'd upon the Hoftefs of the house; And fay, you would prefent her at the Leet, Because the bought ftone-jugs, and not feal'd quarts; Sometimes, you would call out for Cicely Hacket. Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.

*

3 Man. Why, Sir, you know no houfe; nor no fuch maid;

Nor no fuch men, as you have reckon'd up;

Leet,] At the Court leet, or courts of the manor.

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