Belike, some noble gentleman; that means, Re-enter a Servant. How now? who is it? Ser. An it please your Honour, Players that offer service to your Lordship. Enter Players. Now, fellows, you are welcome. Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night? 2 Play. So please your Lordship to accept our duty. Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I re member, Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son; 1 Play. I think, 'twas Soto that your Honour means, And so offend him; for I tell you, Sirs, If you should smile, he grows impatient." Play. Fear not, my Lord; we can contain our selves, Were he the veriest antick in the world. Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, And give them friendl welcome every one; * Let them want nothing that my house affords. A [Exeunt Servant and Players. Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page, [To a Servant. And see him dress'd in all spits like a lily: Tell him from me, (as he will win my love,} He bear himself with honourable action, Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd To see her noble lord restor'd to health, Who, for twice seven years, hath esteemed him See this despatch'd with all the haste thou can'st; [Exit Servant. I know, the boy will well usurp the grace, I'H in to counsel them; haply, my presence May well abate the over-merry spleen, SCENE II. [Exeunt A Bedchamber in the Lord's House. SLY is discovered in a rich night gown, with Attendants; some with apparel, others with bason, ewer, and other appurtenances. Enter Lord, drefs'd like a servant. Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale. 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. Iam 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, sometimes :) more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather. Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your O, that a mighty man, of such descent, 2 Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not 1 Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-heath; by birth a pediar, by education a card-maker, by trans- : mutation 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 lying st 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 hehce by your strange lunacy. O, noble Lord, bethink thee of thy birth; [Musick And twenty caged nightingales do sing: On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. Say, thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground; 1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as 'swift As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. 2 Seru. 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, 3 Serv. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny wood; Scratching her legs, that one shall swear she bleeds: And at that sight shali 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, Like envious floods, o'cr-ran her lovely face, 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 Christophoro Sly. 2 Seru. Will't please your Mightiness to wash your hands2. [Servants present an ewer, bason, and napkin. Q, how we joy to see your wit restor'd! O, that once more you knew but what you are! Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap. But did I never speak of all that time? 1 Serv. O, yes, my Lord; but very idle words: |