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And twice to Day pick'd out the dulleft Scent:
Truft me, I take him for the better Dog.

Lord. Thou art a Fool, if Eccho were as fleet,
I would efteem him worth a Dozen fuch.
But fup them well, and look unto them all,
To Morrow I intend to hunt again.

Hun. I will, my Lord.

Lord. What's here? one Dead, or Drunk? See, doth he breathe?

2 Hun. He breathes, my Lord. Were he not warm'd with Ale, this were a Bed but cold to fleep fo foundly.

Lord. O monftrous Beaft! how like a Swine he lyes!
Grim Death, how foul and loathfome is thine Image!
Sirs, I will practife on this drunken Man.
What think you if he were convey'd to Bed,
Wrapt in fweet Cloaths: Rings put upon his Finger;
A moft delicious Banquet by his Bed,

And brave Attendants near him when he wakes;
Would not the Beggar then forget himself?

I Hun. Believe me, Lord, I think he cannot chufe.
2 Hun. It would feem ftrange unto him when he wak'd.
Lord. Even as a flatt'ring Dream, or worthless Fancy.
Then take him up, and manage well the Jeft:
Carry him gently to my faireft Chamber,

And hang it round with all my wanton Pictures;
Balm his foul Head in warm diftilled Waters,
And burn fweet Wood to make the Lodging fweet.
Procure me Mufick ready when he wakes,
To make a Dulcet and a Heav'nly Sound;
And if he chance to fpeak, be ready ftraight,
And with a low fubmiffive Reverence,
Say, what is it your Honour will command;
Let one attend him with a filver Bafon

Full of Rofe-water, and beftrew'd with Flowers,
Another bear the Ewer; a third a Diaper,

And fay, will please your Lordship cool your Hands?
Some one be ready with a coftly 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 Lunatick,

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And when he fays he is poor, fay that he dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty Lord:
This do, and do it kindly, gentle Sirs;
It will be Paftime paffing excellent,
If it be husbanded with Modefty.

1 Hun. My Lord, I warrant you we will play our Part, As he shall think by our true Diligence,

He is no less than what we fay he is.

Lord. Take him up gently, and to Bed with him; And each one to his Office when he wakes.

[Sound Trumpets. Sirrah, go see what Trumpet 'tis that founds, Belike fome noble Gentleman that means, Travelling fome Journey, to repofe him here.

Enter Servant.

How now? Who is it?

Ser. An't please your Honour, Players That offer Service to your Lordship. Lord. Bid them come near:

Enter Players.

Now Fellows, you are welcome.

Play. We thank your Honour.

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 remember,
Since once he play'd a Farmer's eldest Son;

'Twas where you woo'd the Gentlewoman fo well:
I have forgot your Name; but fure that Part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd.

Sim. 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,
The rather for I have fome Sport in Hand,
Wherein your Cunning can affift me much.
There is a Lord will hear you play to Night;
But I am doubtful of your Modefties,
Left over eying of his odd Behaviour,
(For yet his Honour never heard a Play,)
You break into fome merry Paffion,
And fo offend him: For I tell you, Sirs,
If you should smile, he grows impatient.
VOL. II.

P

Play

Play. Fear not, my Lord, we can contain our felves, Were he the veriest Antick in the World.

Lord. Go Sirrah, take them to the Buttery, Let them want nothing that my House affords.

[Exit one with the Players:

Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my Page,
And fee him dreft in all fuits like a Lady:
That done, condu& him to the Drunkard's Chamber,
And call him Madam, do him Obeifance.
Tell him from me, as he will win my Love,
He bear himself with honourable Action,
Such as he hath observ'd in noble Ladies
Unto their Lords, by them accomplished;
Such Duty to the Drunkard let him do,
With foft low Tongue, and lowly Courtefie;
And fay; What is't your Honour will command,
Wherein your Lady, and your humble Wife,
May fhew her Duty, and make known her Love;
And then with kind Embracements, tempting Kiffes,
And with declining Head into his Bofom,
Bid him shed Tears, as being overjoy'd
To fee her noble Lord reftor'd to Health,
Who for this feven Years hath efteem'd himself
No better than a poor and loathfome Beggar:
And if the Boy have not a Woman's Gift
To rain a Shower of commanded Tears,
An Onion will do well for fuch a Shift,
Which in a Napkin being close convey'd,
Shall in defpight enforce a watry Eye.
See this difpatch'd with all the hafte thou canft,
Anon I'll give thee more Inftructions.

I know the Boy will well ufurp the Grace,
Voice, Gate, and Action of a Gentlewoman.

[Exit Servant.

I long to hear him call the Drunkard, Husband,

And how my Men will stay themselves from Laughter,
When they do Homage to this fimple Peafant;
I'll in to counsel them: Haply my Presence
May well abate the over-merry Spleen,
Which otherwife would grow into Extreams.

Enter

Enter Sly with Attendants, some with Apparel, Bafon and Ewer, and other Appurtenances.

Sly. For God's fake a Pot of fmall Ale.

I Serv. Will't please your Lordship drink a Cup of Sack? 2 Serv. Will't please your Honour tafte of these Con

.erves?

3 Serv. What Raiment will your Honour wear to Day? Sly. I am Chriftophero Sly, call not me Honour, nor Lordfhip: I ne'er drank Sack in my Life; and if you give me any Conferves, give me Conferves 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 Shooes than Feet; nay fometimes more Feet than Shooes, or fuch Shooes as my Toes look through the over-leather.

Lord. Heav'n cease this idle Humour in your Honour. Oh that a mighty Man of fuch Defcent,

Of fuch Poffeffions, and fo high Esteem,
Should be infufed with fo foul a Spirit.

Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Chriftophero Sly, old Sly's Son of Button-heath, by Birth a Pedler, by Education a Card-maker, by Tranfmutation a Bearherd, and now by prefent Profeffion a Tinker. Ask Marrian Hacket, the fat Ale-wife of Wincot, if the know me not; if the fay I am not fourteen Pence on the Score for Sheer Ale, fcore me up for the lying'ft Knave in Christendom. What I am not beftraught: here's

I Man. Oh this it is that makes your Lady mourn. 2 Man. Oh this it is that makes your Servants droop. Lord. Hence comes it that your Kindred fhun your House, As beaten hence by your ftrange Lunacy.

Oh noble Lord, bethink thee of thy Birth,

Call home thy ancient Thoughts from Banifhment,

And banish hence thefe abject lowly Dreams:

Look how thy Servants do attend on thee,

Each in his Office ready at thy Beck.

Wilt thou have Mufick? Hark, Apollo plays,
And twenty caged Nightingales do fing.

Or wilt thou fleep? We'll have thee to a Couch,
Softer and fweeter than the luftful Bed
On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.

P 2

[Mufick.

Say

In his own Condu&, purpofely to take
His Brother here, and put him to the Sword:
And to the Skirts of this wild Wood he came,
Where meeting with an old Religious Man,
After fome queftion with him, was converted
Both from his Enterprize, and from the World;
His Crown bequeathing to his banish'd Brother,
And all their Lands reftor'd to them again.
That were with him Exil'd. This to be true,
I do engage my Life.

Duke Sen. Welcome, young Man :

Thou offer'ft fairly to thy Brothers Wedding;
To one his Lands with-held, and to the other
A Land it felf at large, a potent Dukedom.
First, in this Foreft, let us do those Ends
That here were well begun, and well begot:
And after, every of this happy Number
That have endur'd threwd Days and Nights with us,
Shall fhare the good of our returned Fortune,
According to the meafure of their States.
Mean time, forget this new-fall'n Dignity,
And fall into our Ruftick Revelry:

Play Mufick, and you Brides and Bridegrooms all,
With Measure heap'd in Joy, to th' Meafures fall.
Jaq. Sir, by your patience: If I heard you rightly,
The Duke hath put on a Religious Life,

And thrown into neglect the pompous Court.
Faq. de B. He hath.

[To the Duke.

Faq. To him will I: Out of thefe Convertites
There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.
You to your former Honour, I bequeath,
Your Patience, and your Virtue well deferves it:
You to a Love that your true Faith doth merit ;
You to your Land, and Love, and great Allies;
You to a long and well-deferved Bed;

[To Orla. [To Oli. [To Syl.

And you to Wrangling; for thy loving Voyage [To the Clown
Is but for two Months victuall'd: So to your Pleafures;

I am for other than for Dancing Measures.
Duke Sen. Stay, Jaques, stay.

Jaq. To fee no Paftime, I: What you would have,
I'll stay to know at your abandon'd Cave.

[Exit.

Duke

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