That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber; May show her duty and make known her love?' kisses, And with declining head into his bosom, [Exit a Servingman. I know the boy will well usurp the grace, Voice, gait and action of a gentlewoman : 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 110 120 130 112. accomplished, performed. 119. with declining head into, with head declining into (a common inversion). 131. usurp, assume. May well abate the over-merry spleen Which otherwise would grow into extremes. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A bedchamber in the Lord's house. Enter aloft SLY, with Attendants; some with apparel, others with basin and ewer and other appurtenances; and Lord. 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 10 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 ! O, that a mighty man of such descent, Of such possessions and so high esteem, Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton 137. over-merry spleen, the spleen was the supposed organ alike of laughter and of vexation. 14. cease, cause to cease. 19. Burton-heath, probably Barton-on-the-Heath, a Warwickshire village. heath, by birth a pedlar, by education a card- 20 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 be Third Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn! Sec. Serv. O, this is it that makes your servants droop! Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house, As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth, Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays 30 And twenty caged nightingales do sing: [Music. Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground: soar Above the morning lark: or wilt thou hunt? 21. bear-herd, bearward. 23. Wincot, or Wilmecote, is a village near Stratford, the birthplace of Shakespeare's mother. 25. sheer, unmixed. 26. bestraught, distracted. 40 Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. Sec. 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. Third 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. First Serv. And till the tears that she hath shed Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face, Sly. Am I a lord? and have I such a lady? 50 60 70 age in which beauty is declining. 69. yet, even now. And not a tinker nor Christophero Sly. Sec. Serv. Will 't please your mightiness to wash -O, how we joy to see your wit restored! O, that once more you knew but what you are! But did I never speak of all that time? First Serv. O, yes, my lord, but very idle words: For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door; And rail upon the hostess of the house; And say you would present her at the leet, Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts: Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. Third Serv. Why, sir, you know no house nor Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up, 80 90 95. Stephen Sly was the name of a resident at Stratford, variously described in the records as a labourer and as 'servant to W. Combe.' A Joan Sly was subsequently (1630) fined by the Stratford magistrates for breaking the Sabbath by travelling (Lee). |