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Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
. . laughter,
Sly is discovered in a rich night gown, with At
tendants; some with apparel, others with bason, ewer, and other appurtenances. Enter Lord, dressed like a Servant,
Sly. For God's saké, a pot of small ale.
3 Serv. Wonserves?se your honour to
3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to
day? . . Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me-honour, nor lordship: I never 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 stock
. Lord. Hok through the shoes, or suchet; nay,
ings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay,
Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-heath;4 by birth a pedler, by education a card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat alewife 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 lyingest knave in Christendom. What, I am not bestraught:5 Here's-
1 Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn. 2 Seri. O, this it is that makes your servants
of Burton-heath ;--Marian Hacket the fat ale-wife of Wincot,] I suspect we should read --- Burton-heath. Barton and I'vodmancut, or, as it is vulgarly pronounced, Woncot, are both of them in Gloucestershire, near the residence of Shakspeare's old enemy, Justice Shallow. Very probably too, this fat ale-wife might be a real character. STEEVENS. S l am not bestraught:] Bestraught seems to have been synonymous to distraught or distracted.
And twenty caged nightingales do sing:
soar Above the morning lark: Or wilt thou hunt? Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them, And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. 1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds
are as swift As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. 2 Serv. 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, Even as the waving sedges play with wind.
Lord. We'll show thee Io, as she was a maid; And how she was beguiled and surpris’d, As lively painted as the deed was done. 3 Serv. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny
wood; Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds: And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.
Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:
Sly. Ain I a lord? and have I such a lady? Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now? I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak; I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things:Upon my life, I am a lord, indeed; And not a tinker, nor Christophero SlyWell, bring our lady hither to our sight; And once again, a pot o’the smallest ale.. 2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash
Servants present an ewer, bason, and napkin. O, how we joy to see your wit restor'd! O, that once more you knew but what you are! These fifteen years you have been in a dream; Or, when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept. .
Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap. But did I never speak of all that time?
i Serv. O, yes, my lord; but very idle words: For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of door; And rail upon the hostess of the house; And say, you would present her at the leet, Because she brought stonë jugs and no seal'd quarts: Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends
ce leet,) At the Court-leet, or courts of the manor.
Enter the Page, as a lady, with Attendants.
Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough.
her? Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me
husband? My men should call me--lord; I am your goodman. Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and
Sly. I know it well:- What must I call her?
Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam? | Lord. Madam, and nothing else; so lords call
ladies. ; ' . · Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd,
and slept Above some fifteen year and more.
Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me;
Page. Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you,
Sly. Ay, it stands so, that I may hardly tarry so long. But I would be loth to fall into my dreams again; I will therefore tarry, in despite of the flesh and the blood.