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Another beare the ewer : the third a diaper,
And say wilt please your lordship coole your hands.
Some one be readic with a costly suite,
And aske him what apparell he will weare:
Another tell him of his hounds and horse,
And that his lady mournes at his disease,
Perswade him that he hath bin lunaticke,
And when he sayes he is, say that he dreames,
For he is nothing but a mightic lord:
This do, and doe it kindly, gentle sirs,
It will be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modestie.
i Hunts. My lord I warrant you we wil play our part
As he shall thinke by our true dilligence
He is no lesse than what we say he is.
Lord. Take him vp gently, and to bed with him, And each one to his office when he wakes.
Sound Trumpets. Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds, Belike some noble gentleman that meanes (Trauelling some iourney) to repose him heere.
How now? who is it?
Ser. An't please your honor, players That offer service to your lordship.
Lord. Bid them come neere : Now fellowes, you are welcome.
Players. We thanke your honor, Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to night? 2 Player. So please your lordshippe to accept our dutie.
Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember,
Since once he plaide a farmer's eldest sonne,
Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman fo well :
I haue forgot your name: but sure that part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd,
Sincklo. I thinke 'twas Soto that your honor meanes.
Lord. 'Tis verie true, thou didh it excellent :
Well you are come to me in happie time,
The rather for I haue fome sport in hand,
Wherein your cunning can aslift me much.
There is a lord will heare you play to night;
But I am doubtfull of your modesties,
Least (ouer-eying of his odde behaviour,
For yet his honor neuer heard a play)
You breake into some merrie passion,
And fo offend him : for I tell you firs,
If you should smile, he growes impatient.
Play. Feare not my lord we can containe ourselues,
Were he the veriest anticke in the world.
Lord. Go firra, take them to the butterie,
And giue them friendly welcome euery one,
Let them want nothing that my house affoords.
Exit one with the Players.
Sirra go you to Bartholmew my page,
And see him drest in all suites like a ladie :
That done, conduct him to the drunkards chamber,
And call him madam, do him obeisance :
Tell him from me (as he will win my loue)
He bare himselfe with honourable action,
Such as he hath obseru'd in noble ladies
Vnto their lords, by them accomplished,
Such dutie to the drunkard let him do:
With soft lowe tongue, and lowly curtefie,
And fay: what is't your honor doth command,
Wherein your ladie, and your humble wife,
May thew her dutie, and make knowne her loue.
And then with kinde imbracements, tempting kisses,
And with declining head into his bosome
Bid him shed teares, as being ouer ioyed
To see her noble lord restor'd to health,
Who for this seuen yeares hath esteemed him
No better than a poore and loathsome begger :
And if the boy have not a woman's guife
To raine a shower of commanded teares,
An onion will do well for such a shift,
Which in a napkin (being close-conuei'd)
Shall in despight enforce a waterie eie :
See this dispatch'd with all the haft thou canst,
Anon lle giue thee more instructions.
Exit a Seruingman.
I know the boy will wel vsurpe the grace,
Voice, gate, and action of a gentlewoman:
I long to heare him call the drunkard husband,
And how my men will stay themfelues from laughter,
When they do homage to this simple peasant,
Ile in to counsell them : haply my presence
May well abate the ouer-merrie spleene,
Which otherwise would grow into extreames.
Enter aloft the Drunkard with attendants, fome with apparel,
bafon and ewer, and other appurtenances, and Lord.
Beg. For Gods fake a pot of fmall ale.
1 Ser. Wilt please your lordship drinke a cup of facke?
2 Ser. Wilt please your honor taste of these conserues ?
3 Ser. What raiment will your honor weare to day.
Beg. I am Christophero Sly, call not me honor nor lord. fhip: I ne're drank facke in my life: and if you giue me any conserues, giue mee conserues of beefe : nere ask me what rai.
ment Ile weare, for I haue no more doublets then backes : 00 more stockings then legges : nor no more shooes then feet, nay somtime more feet then shoes, or such shooes as my toes looke through the ouer leather.
Lord. Heauen cease this idle humor in your honor.
Oh that a mightie man of such discent,
Of such possessions, and so bigh esteeme
Should be infused with so foule a spirit.
Beg. What would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Slie, old Slies sonne of Burton-heath by byrth a' pedler, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a beare-heard, and now by present profession a tinker. Ask Marrian Hack. et the fat alewife of Wincot, if nee know me not : if she say I am not xiiii. d. on the score for thcere ale; score mee vp for the lyingAt knaue in Christendome. What I am not bestraught: here's
3 Man. On this it is that makes your ladie mourne. 2 Man. Oh this is it that makes your seruants droop.
Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred suns your house As beaten hence by your strange lunacie. Oh noble lord, bethinke thee of thy birth, Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, And banish hence these abiect lowlie dreamcs : Looke how thy feruants do attend on thee, Each in his office readie at thy becke. Wilt thou haue musicke? Harke Apollo playes, Muficke. And twentie caged nightingales do sing. Or wilt thou sleepe? Wee'l have thee to a couch, Softer and sweeter then the luftfull bed On purpose trim'd vp for Semiramis. Say thou wilt walke: we will bestrow the ground. Or wilt thou ride ? thy horses Mall be trap'd, Their harnesse studded all with gold and pearle. Dost thou loue hawking? Thou hast hawkes will soare
Aboue the morning larke. Or wilt thou hunt,
Thy bounds shall make the welkin answer them
And fetch Mrill ecchoes from the hollow earth.
1 Man. Say thou wilt course, thy gray-hounds are as swift As breathed stags: I feeter then the roe.
2 Man. Dost thou loue pictures ? we wil fetch thee ftrait
Adonis painted by a running brooke,
And Citherea all in sedges hid,
Which seeme to move and wanton with her breath,
Euen as the wauing sedges play with winde.
Lord. Wee'l fhew thee lo, as she was a maid,
And how she was beguiled and surpriz'd,
As liuelie painted, as the deede was done.
3 Alan. Or Daphne roming through a thornie wood,
Scratching her legs, that one dal sweare the bleeds,
And at that fight shall fad Apollo weepe,
So workmanlie the blood and teares are drawne.
Lord. Thou art a lord and nothing but a lord :
Thou hast a ladie farre more beautifull,
Then any woman in this waining age.
i Man. And til the teares that she hath shed for thee,
Like enuious flouds ore run her louely face,
She was the faireft creature in the world,
And yet she is inferiour to none.
Beg. Am I a lord and haue I such a ladie ?
Or do I dreame? Or haue I dream'd till now?
I do not sleepe: I see, I heare, I speake :
I smel sweet fauors, and I feele soft things :
Vpop my life I am a lord indeede,
And not a tinker, nor Christopher Slie.
Well, bring our ladie hither to our fight,
And once againe a pot o'th smallest ale.
2 Man. Wilt please your mightinesse to wash your hands : Oh how we joy to see your wit restor'd,