Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember, Sincklo. I thinke 'twas Soto that your honor meanes. Well you are come to me in happie time, If you should smile, he growes impatient. Play. Feare not my lord we can containe ourfelues, Were he the veriest anticke in the world. Lord. Go firra, take them to the butterie, And giue them friendly welcome euery one, Exit one with the Players. Sirra go you to Bartholmew my page, And see him dreft in all fuites like a ladie : That done, conduct him to the drunkards chamber, Wherein Wherein your ladie, and your humble wife, Exit a Seruingman. I know the boy will wel vfurpe the grace, And how my men will stay themfelues from laughter, When they do homage to this fimple peafant, Ile in to counfell them: haply my prefence May well abate the ouer-merrie spleene, Which otherwife 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 tafte of thefe conferues? 3 Ser. What raiment will your honor weare to day. Beg. I am Chriftophero Sly, call not me honor nor lordfhip: I ne're drank facke in my life and if you giue me any conferues, giue mee conferues of beefe: nere afk me what rai B 4 : ment ment Ile weare, for I haue no more doublets then backes: no more stockings then legges: nor no more fhooes then feet, nay fomtime more feet then shoes, or fuch fhooes as my toes looke through the ouer leather. Lord. Heauen ceafe this idle humor in your honor. Beg. What would you make me mad? Am not I Chriftopher Slie, old Slies fonne of Burton-heath by byrth a pedler, by education a cardmaker, by tranfmutation a beare-heard, and now by present profession a tinker. Afk Marrian Hacket the fat alewife of Wincot, if fhee know me not: if fhe fay I am not xiiii. d. on the score for fheere ale; score mee vp for the lyingft knaue in Chriftendome. What I am not beftraught: here's 3 Man. Oh this it is that makes your ladie mourne. 2 Man. Oh this is it that makes your feruants droop. Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred fhuns your houfe As beaten hence by your ftrange lunacie. Oh noble lord, bethinke thee of thy birth, Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, Looke how thy feruants do attend on thee, Each in his office readie at thy becke. Wilt thou haue muficke? Harke Apollo playes, Muficke. And twentie caged nightingales do fing. Or wilt thou sleepe? Wee'l have thee to a couch, On purpose trim'd vp for Semiramis. Say thou wilt walke: we will beftrow the ground. Aboue Aboue the morning larke. Or wilt thou hunt, 1 Man. Say thou wilt course, thy gray-hounds are as swift As breathed ftags: I fleeter then the roe. 2 Man. Doft thou loue pictures? we wil fetch thee strait Adonis painted by a running brooke, And Citherea all in fedges hid, Which feeme to moue and wanton with her breath, Euen as the wauing fedges play with winde. Lord. Wee'l fhew thee Io, as he was a maid, And how she was beguiled and furpriz'd, As liuelie painted, as the deede was done. - 3 Man. Or Daphne roming through a thornie wood, Scratching her legs, that one fhal fweare fhe 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 haft a ladie farre more beautifull, Then any woman in this waining age. 1 Man. And til the teares that she hath shed for thee, Like enuious flouds ore run her louely face, She was the fairest creature in the world, And yet fhe is inferiour to none. Beg. Am I a lord and haue I fuch a ladie? And once againe a pot o'th smallest ale. 2 Man. Wilt please your mightineffe to wash your hands Oh how we ioy to fee your wit reftor'd, : Oh Oh that once more you knew but what you are: 1 Man. Oh yes my lord, but verie idle words And fay you would prefent her at the leete, 3 Man. Why fir you know no house, nor no fuch maid Nor no fuch men as you haue reckon'd vp, As Stephen Slie, and old Ichn Naps of Greece, And twentie more fuch names and men as these, Which neuer were, nor no man euer faw. Beg. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends. All. Amen. Enter Ladie with attendants. Beg. I thanke thee, thou shalt not loose by it. Beg. Marrie I fare well, for heere is cheere enough. Lady. Heere noble lord, what is thy will with her Beg. Are you my wife and will not call mee hufband? My men fhould call mee lord, I am your good-man. Lady. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband I am your wife in all obedience. Beg. I know it well, what muft I call her? Lord. Madam. Beg. |