Host. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the thirdborough. [Exit. Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, (2) 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. : Horns winded. Enter a Lord from hunting, with Huntsmen and Servants. Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds: Trash Merriman,—the poor cur is emboss'd; And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach. (3) I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. First 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: Trust me, I take him for the better dog. Lord. Thou art a fool: if Echo were as fleet, I would esteem him worth a dozen such. First Hun. I will, my lord. Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe? Sec. Hun. He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd with ale, This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. or rather Andrew our elder journeyman: what, drawers become courtiers? now may I speake with the old ghost in Ieronimo, When this eternall substance of my soule First Part, p. 57, ed. 1631. (In Clem's second quotation the original has "in my wanton flesh," and "I was a courtier in the Spanish court.")-The words "go to thy cold bed, and warm thee" have been erroneously described as parodying a line in The Spanish Tragedy: see note on King Lear, act iii. sc. 4, where they are spoken by Edgar.-The Spanish Tragedy (as well as the drama entitled Jeronimo, which forms the First Part of it) may be found (reprinted with villanous incorrectness) in Dodsley's Old Plays. Lord. O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies !— Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image!— Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. What think you, if he were convey'd to bed, Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers, And brave attendants near him when he wakes,- First Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. wak'd. Lord. Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy. (4) 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: And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet (5) Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers; And say, "Will't please your lordship cool your hands?" Some one be ready with a costly suit, And ask him what apparel he will wear; And when he says he is, say that he dreams, This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs: It will be pastime passing excellent, If it be husbanded with modesty. First 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. [Sly is borne out. A trumpet sounds. Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds:- [Exit Servant. Belike, some noble gentleman, that means, How now! who is it? Serv. Re-enter Servant. An it please your honour, Players that offer service to your lordship. Lord. Bid them come near. Enter Players. Now, fellows, you are welcome. Players. We thank your honour. Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night? Sec. Play. So please your lordship to accept our duty. Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son : 'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well: I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part Was aptly fit, and naturally perform'd. (7) First Play. (8) I think 'twas Soto that your honour means. Lord. 'Tis very true: thou didst it excellent. Well, you are come to me in happy time; First Play. Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves, Were he the veriest antic 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 Barthol'mew my page, [To another Servant. And see him dress'd in all suits 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, To see her noble lord restor❜d to health, Who for this seven years(10) hath esteemed him(11) I know the boy will well usurp the grace, I long to hear him call the drunkard husband; [Exit Servant. And how my men will stay themselves from laughter [Exeunt. SCENE II. A bedchamber in the Lord's house. SLY is discovered in a rich nightgown, 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. First Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack? Sec. Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these conserves? Third Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day? Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me honour nor lordship I ne'er 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, sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather. Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour! Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-heath; by birth a pedler, by education a card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession 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 lyingest knave in Christendom. What! I am not bestraught: here's First Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn! 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. |