INDUCTION. SCENE I-Before an Alehouse on a Heath. Enter HOSTESS and SLY. Sly. I'll pheese* you, in faith. Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue! Sly. Y'are a baggage; the Slies are no rogues: Look in the chronicles, we came in with Richard Conqueror. paucas pallabris;t let the world slide: Sessa ! Therefore, Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? Sly. No, not a denier: Go by, Jeronimy ;-Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.§ Host. I know my remedy, I must go fetch the thirdborough.|| [Exit. Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy; let him come, and kindly. [Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep. Wind horns. Enter a LORD from hunting, with Huntsmen and Servants. Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee tender well my hounds: Brace Merriman,-the poor cur is emboss'd; T And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach.** At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault? I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. 1 Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; He cried upon it at the merest loss, And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent: Lord. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fleet, I would esteem him worth a dozen such. But sup them well, and look unto them all; 1 Hun. I will, my lord. Lord. What's here ? one dead or drunk? See, doth he breathe? 2 Hun. He breathes, my lord: Were he not warm'd with ale, This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. Lord. O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies! Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image! Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers, * Beat; pay you off. + A word to the wise. + Be quiet. A line introduced, in ridicule, from Kyd's play of the Spanish Tragedy, the hero of which, Jeronimo, Sly confounds with Saint Jerome (Dyce). An officer whose authority equals a constable. ¶ Strained. ** A small scenting-hound. A most delicious banquet by his bed, And brave attendants near him when he wakes, 1 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. 2 Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he waked. Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worthless fancy. Then take him up, and manage well the jest: Carry him gently to my fairest chamber, And hang it round with all my wanton pictures: Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers; And say,-Will't please your lordship cool your hands? And ask him what apparel he will wear; If it be husbanded with modesty.+ 1 Hun. My lord, I warrant you we'll play our part, As he shall think, by our true diligence, He is no less than what we say 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. A trumpet sounds Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds:- [Exit SERVANT. Belike, some noble gentleman, that means, Travelling some journey, to repose him here. How now? who is it? Re-enter a SERVANT. Serv. An it please your honour, Players that offer service to your lordship. Enter PLAYERS. Now, fellows, you are welcome. 1 Play. We thank your honour. Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night? * Naturally. Moderation. 2 Play. So please your lordship to accept our duty. 1 Play. I think 'twas Soto that your honour means. 1 Play. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves, Were he the veriest antick in the world. Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, And give them friendly welcome every one: Let them want nothing that my house affords. [Exeunt SERVANT and PLAYERS. Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page, Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd To see her noble lord restored to health, Who, for twice seven years, hath esteemed him No better than a poor and loathsome beggar: To rain a shower of commanded tears, [Exit SERVANT. See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst; I long to hear him call the drunkard, husband: And how my men will stay themselves from laughter, When they do homage to this simple peasant. I'll in to counsel them: haply* my presence Which otherwise would grow into extremes. [Exeunt. SCENE II-A Bedchamber in the LORD's House. SLY is discovered in a rich night-gown, with Attendants; some with apparel, others with basin, ewer, and other appurtenances. Enter LORD, dressed like a Servant. Sly. For God's sake a pot of small ale. 1 Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack? 2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these conserves? 3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day? Sly. I am Christopher Sly; call not me-honour, nor lordship. I never drank sack in my life; and if you give me any conserves, give me conserves of beef: Ne'er ask 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, sometimes more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the over-leather. Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour! Of such possessions, and so high esteem, Sly, What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Barton-heath; by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat alewife of Woncot, if she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the lyingest knave in Christendom. What, I am not bestraught:† Here's 1 Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn. 2 Serv. O, 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. O, noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth; Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, And banish hence these abject lowly dreams: Look how thy servants do attend on thee, Each in his office ready at thy beck. Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays, Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch, Say, thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground: * Perhaps. + Distraught distracted. [Music. Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar 1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. 2 Serv. 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, Even as the waving sedges play with wind. Lord. We'll show thee Io, as she was a maid; And how she was beguiled and surpris'd, As lively painted as the deed was done. 3 Serv. 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 waning age. 1 Serv. And, till the tears that she hath shed for thee, Sly. Am I a lord ? and have I such a lady? I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things:- And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly.- 2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands? [SERVANTS present an ewer, basin, and napkin. O, how we joy to see your wit restored! O, that once more you knew but what you are! 1 Serv. O, yes, my lord; but very idle words:- Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house. 3 Serv. Why, Sir, you know no house, nor no such maid; Nor no such men as you have reckon❜d on *Faith. |