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And call him Madam, do him all obeisance,
(5) Who for these seven Years bath effeam'd bimself
No better tban a poor and loathsome Beggar. ] I have ventured to alter a Word here, against the Authority of the printed Copies; and hope, I shall be justified in it by two fubfequent Passages. That the Poet design'd, the Tinker's supposed Lunacy thould be of fourteen Years standing at least, is evident' upon two parallel Passages in the Play to that Purpose.
SCENE changes to à Bedchamber in the a:
Enter Sly with Attendants, Some with apparel, bafon and
ewer, and other appurtenances. Re-enter Lord.
OR God's fake, a pot of fmall ale.
of sack? 2 Serv. Will't please your Honour tafte of these Conserves? 3 Serv. What raiment will your Honour wear to day?
Sly. I am Christophero Sly, call not me Honour, nor Lordship: I ne'er drank fack in my life: and if you give me any Conserves, give me Conserves of beef : ne'er ask me what raiment l'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more ftockings than legs, nor. no more shoes than feet ; nay, fometimes, more feet than shoes; or such shoes as my toes look through the over-leather.
Lord. Heav'n cease this idle humour in your Honour ! Oh, that a mighty man of such descent, Of such poffeflions, and so high esteem, Should be infufed with fo foul a fpirit ! Sly. What, would you make me mad i am not 1.3
. Christophero Sly, old sty's son of Burton-heath, by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by transmutation a bearherd, and now by prefent profession a tinker? alk Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she know me not; if the fay, I am not fourteen-pence on the score for sheer ale, fcore me up for the lying 'st knave in Christendom. What, I am not beftraught: here's
1 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 strange lunacy.
Oh, noble Lord, bethink thee of thy birth,
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
1 Man. Say, thou wilt course, thy greyhounds are as swift As breathed ftags; ay, fleeter than the roe.
2 Man. Doft thou love piures i we will fetch thee Arait
Lord. We'll shew thee lo, as she was a maid,
3 Man. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,
Lord. Thou art a Lord, and nothing but a Lord :
i Man. And 'till the tears, that she hath shed for thee,
Or do I dream? or have I dream'd 'till now?
2 Man. Will't please your Mightiness to wash your hands?
Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly napi
1 Man. Oh, yes, my Lord, but very idle words.
the Hostess of the house;
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
3 Man. Why, Sir, you know no house; nor no such maid;
Sly. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends !
Man. Sim, an't please your Honour.
Siy. Şim? that's as much as to say, Simeon or Simon ; put forth thy hand and fill the pot.
[The servant gives him drink.
Enter Lady, with Attendants.
I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it.
Lady. How fares my noble Lord?
my wife? Lady. Here, noble Lord, what is thy will with her!
Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me hufband? My men should call me Lord, I am your good
Lady. 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 ?
Sly. Come, fit down on my knee. Sim, drink to her. Madam wife, they fay, that I have dream'd, and slept above some fifteen years and more.
Lady. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me, Being all this time abandon'd from your bed.
Sly. 'Tis much. Servants, leave ine and her alone : Madam, undress you, and come now to bed.
Sim, drink to her.
Lady. Thrice-noble Lord, let me entreat of you,
Sly. Ay, it stands fo, that I may hardly tarry so long; but I would be loath to fall into my
dream again : I will therefore tarry in despight of the flesh and the blood.