What think you, if he were conveyed to bed, Wrapped in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers,

A most delicious banquet by his bed,
And brave attendants near him when he wakes,
Would not the beggar then forget himself?

1st Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot
choose.

2nd 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:
Balm his foul head with warm distilléd waters,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet:
Procure me music ready when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound;
And if he chance to speak, be ready straight,
And, with a low submissive reverence,
Say, "What is it your honour will command?"
Let one attend him with a silver bason,
Full of rosewater, and bestrewed with flowers;
Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,
And
say,

"Wilt please your lordship cool your
hands?"

Some one be ready with a costly suit,
And ask him what apparel he will wear;
Another tell him of his hounds and horse,
And that his lady mourns at his disease:
Persuade him that he hath been lunatic;
And, when he says he is, say that he dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty lord.
This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs :
It will be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modesty.

1st Hun. My lord, I warrant you we'll play

1st Play. We thank your honour. Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night? 2nd Play. So please your lordship to accept our duty.

Lord. With all my heart.-This fellow I remember,

Since once he played a farmer's eldest son;-
"T was where you wooed the gentlewoman so well:
I have forgot your name; but sure that part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally performed.

1st Play. I think 't was Soto that your honour

means.

Lord. 'Tis very true;-thou didst it excellent. Well, you are come to me in happy time; The rather for I have some sport in hand, Wherein your cunning can assist me much. There is a lord will hear you play to-night: But I am doubtful of your modesties; Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour (For yet his honour never heard a play), You break into some merry passion, And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs, If you should smile, he grows impatient. 1st 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 Bartholomew my page,

[To a Servant.

And see him dressed in all suits like a lady:
That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber,
And call him "Madam," do him obeisance.
Tell him from me (as he will win my love),
He bear himself with honourable action,
Such as he hath observed in noble ladies
Unto their lords, by them accomplishéd :
Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy ;
And
say, "What is 't your honour will command,
Wherein your lady and your humble wife
May shew her duty, and make known her love?"
And then, with kind embracements, tempting
kisses,

And with declining head into his bosom,
Bid him shed tears, as being overjoyed
To see her noble lord restored to health,
Who, for twice seven years, hath esteemed him
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar:
And if the boy have not a woman's gift
To rain a shower of commanded tears,
An onion will do well for such a shift;
Which in a napkin being close conveyed,
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
See this despatched with all the haste thou canst;

3rd Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day?

Sly. I am Christophero 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 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,
Should be infuséd with so foul a spirit!

Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burtonheath; by birth a pedlar, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now

And twenty cagéd nightingales do sing:
Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
On purpose trimmed up for Semiramis.
Say, thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground:
Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapped,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark: or wilt thou hunt?
Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them,
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.
1st Serv. Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds
are as swift

As breathéd stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.
2nd 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 shew thee Io, as she was a maid; And how she was beguiled and surprised, As lively painted as the deed was done.

3rd 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.

1st Serv. And, till the tears that she hath shed
for thee,

Like envious floods, o'erran her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world;
And yet she is inferior to none.

Sly. Am I a lord? and have I such a lady?
Or do I dream? or have I dreamed till now?
I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak;
I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things:
Upon my life, I am a lord indeed;
And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly.-
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.
2nd Serv. Will't please your mightiness to
wash your hands?

[Servants present an ewer, bason, and napkin. O, how we joy to see your wit restored! O, that once more you knew but what you are! These fifteen years you have been in a dream; Or, when you waked, so waked as if you slept. Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly

nap.

But did I never speak of all that time?

1st 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 sealed
quarts:

Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.

Serv. Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such maid;

Nor no such men as you have reckoned up:
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell;
And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.

Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends!
All. Amen.

Sly. I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it.

Enter the Page, as a Lady, with Attendants.

Page. How fares my noble lord? Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough. Where is my wife?

Page. Here, noble lord; what is thy will with her? Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me 66 "husband?"

My men should call me "lord;" I am your good

man.

Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;

I am your wife in all obedience;

Sly. I know it well.-What must I call her? Lord. Madam.

Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam?

Lord. Madam, and nothing else; so lords call

ladies.

Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dreamed and slept

Above some fifteen year and more.

Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me, Being all this time abandoned from your bed. Sly. "Tis much.-Servants, leave me and her

alone.

Madam, undress you, and come now to bed.

Page. Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you To pardon me yet for a night or two; Or if not so, until the sun be set: For your physicians have expressly charged, In peril to incur your former malady, That I should yet absent me from your bed: I hope this reason stands for my excuse.

Sly. Ay, it stands so, that I may hardly tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into my dreams again; I will therefore tarry, in despite of the flesh and the blood.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Your honour's players, hearing your amendment,