And call him Madam, do him all obeisance. See this difpatch'd, with all the hafte thou canft; I know the boy will well ufurp the grace, [Exit Servant, I long to hear him call the drunkard, husband; (5) Who for thefe feven Years bath efteam'd himself [Exit Lord. I have ventured to alter a Word here, against the Authority of the printed Copies; and hope, I fhall be juftified in it by two fubfequent Paffages. That the Poet defign'd, the Tinker's fuppofed Lunacy fhould be of fourteen Years ftanding at leaft, is evident upon two parallel Paffages in the Play to that Purpose. SCENE SCENE changes to à Bedchamber in the lar Enter Sly with Attendants, fome with apparel, bason and ewer, and other appurtenances. Re-enter Lord. OR God's fake, a pot of fmall ale. Sly. a 1 Serv. Will't please your Lordship drink cup of fack? 2 Serv. Will't please your Honour taste of thefe Conferves? 3 Serv. What raiment will your Honour wear to day? Sly. I am Chriftophero Sly, call not me Honour, nor Lordship: I ne'er drank fack in my life: and if you give ** me any Conferves, give me Conferves of beef: ne'er afk me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more ftockings than legs, nor. no more fhoes than feet; nay, fometimes, more feet than shoes; or fuch fhoes 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 fpirit! Sly. What, would you make me mad am not I Chriftophero Sly, old Sly's fon of Burton-beath, by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by tranfmutation a bearherd, and now by prefent profeffion a tinker afk Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if the know me not; if fhe fay, I am not fourteen-pence on the score for fheer ale, fcore me up for the lying'ft 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 fervants droop. Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred fhun your house, As beaten hence by your ftrange lunacy, Oh, Oh, noble Lord, bethink thee of thy birth, Or wilt thou fleep? we'll have thee to a couch, [Mufick. Say, thou wilt walk, we will beftrow the ground: 1 Man. Say, thou wilt courfe, thy greyhounds are as fwift As breathed ftags; ay, fleeter than the roe. 2 Man. Doft thou love pictures? we will fetch thee ftrait Adonis, painted by a running brook; And Citberea all in fedges hid; Which feem to move and wanton with her breath, Lord. We'll fhew thee Io, as fhe was a maid, 3 Man. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, Scratching her legs, that one hall fwear fhe bleeds: And at that fight fhall fad Apollo weep: So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. Than any woman in this waining age. 1 Man. And 'till the tears, that the hath fhed for thee, Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face, She was the fairest creature in the world, And yet fhe is inferior to none. Sly. Am I a Lord, and have I fuch a Lady ? Of Or do I dream? or have I dream'd 'till now? 2 Man. Will't please your Mightiness to wash your hands? Oh, how we joy to fee your wits reftor'd! Oh, that once more you knew but what you are! Thefe fifteen years you have been in a dream, Or, when you wak'd, fo wak'd as if you flept. 1 Man. Oh, yes, my Lord, but very idle words. 3 Man. Why, Sir, you know no houfe; nor no fuch maid; Nor no fuch men, as you have reckon'd up; As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece, And twenty more fuch names and men as thefe, Sly. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends! All. Amen. Sly. By th' mafs, I think I am a Lord indeed. What is thy name ? Man. Sim, an't please your Honour. Siy. Sim? that's as much as to fay, Simeon or Simon ; put forth thy hand and fill the pot. [The fervant gives him drink. Enter I thank thee; Enter Lady, with Attendants. -thou shalt not lose by it. Lady. How fares my noble Lord? Sly. Marry, I fare well, for here is cheer enough. Where's 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 fhould call me Lord, I am your good man. 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. Alce madam, or Joan madam? Lord. Madam, and nothing else, fo lords call ladies. Sly. Come, fit down on my knee. Sim, drink to her. Madam wife, they fay, that I have dream'd, and flept above fome fifteen years and more. Lady. Ay, and the time feems 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, To pardon me yet for a night or two: Or, if not fo, until the fun be fet; For your phyficians have exprefly charg'd, your Sly. Ay, it ftands fo, that I may hardly tarry fo long; but I would be loath to fall into my dream again : I will therefore tarry in defpight of the flesh and the blood. Enter |