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Another beare the ewer: the third a diaper,
And fay wilt please your lordship coole your hands.
Some one be readic with a coftly fuite,

And aske him what apparell he will weare:
Another tell him of his hounds and horfe,

And that his lady mournes at his disease,
Perfwade him that he hath bin lunaticke,
And when he fayes he is, fay that he dreames,
For he is nothing but a mightie lord:
This do, and doe it kindly, gentle firs,
It will be pastime paffing excellent,

If it be husbanded with modeftie.

1 Hunts. My lord I warrant you we wil play our part As he fhall thinke by our true dilligence

He is no leffe than what we say he is.

Lord. Take him vp gently, and to bed with him, And each one to his office when he wakes.

Sound Trumpets.

Sirrah, go fee what trumpet 'tis that founds,
Belike some noble gentleman that meanes
(Trauelling fome iourney) to repofe him heere.

Enter Seruingman.

How now? who is it?

Ser. An't please your honor, players That offer feruice to your lordship.

Enter Players.

Lord. Bid them come neere:

Now fellowes, you are welcome.

Players. We thanke your honor.

Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to night?

2 Player. So please your lordshippe to accept our dutie.

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Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember,
Since once he plaide a farmers eldest fonne,
Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman fo well:
I haue forgot your name: but fure that part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd,

Sincklo. I thinke 'twas Soto that your honor meanes.
Lord. 'Tis verie true, thou didst it excellent :

Well you are come to me in happie time,
The rather for I haue fome sport in hand,
Wherein your cunning can affift me much.
There is a lord will heare you play to nights
But I am doubtfull of your modefties,
Leaft (ouer-eying of his odde behauiour,
For yet his honor neuer heard a play)
You breake into fome merrie paffion,
And fo offend him: for I tell

you

firs,

If you should smile, he growes impatient.

Play. Feare not my lord we can containe ourfelues,
Were he the verieft anticke in the world.

Lord. Go firra, take them to the butterie,
And giue them friendly welcome euery one,
Let them want nothing that my houfe affoords.

Exit one with the Players.

Sirra go you to Bartholmew my page,

And fee him dreft in all fuites like a ladie:

That done, conduct him to the drunkards chamber,
And call him madam, do him obeifance:

Tell him from me (as he will win my loue)
He bare himfelfe with honourable action,
Such as he hath obferu'd in noble ladies
Vnto their lords, by them accomplished,
Such dutie to the drunkard let him do:
With foft lowe tongue, and lowly curtefie,
And fay what is't your honor doth command,

Wherein

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Wherein your ladie, and your humble wife,
May fhew her dutie, and make knowne her loue.'
And then with kinde imbracements, tempting kiffes,
And with declining head into his bofome
Bid him shed teares, as being ouer ioyed
To see her noble lord restor❜d to health,
Who for this feuen yeares hath esteemed him
No better than a poore and loathfome begger :
And if the boy haue not a woman's guift
To raine a shower of commanded teares,
An onion will do well for fuch a shift,
Which in a napkin (being close-conuei'd)
Shall in defpight enforce a waterie eie :
See this dispatch'd with all the haft thou canft,
Anon Ile giue thee more inftructions.

Exit a Seruingman.

I know the boy will wel vfurpe the grace,
Voice, gate, and action of a gentlewoman:
I long to heare him call the drunkard husband,
And how my men will stay themfelues from laughter,

When they do homage to this fimple peasant,

Ile in to counfell them: haply my presence

May well abate the ouer-merrie fpleene,

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 taste of these conferues? 3 Ser. What raiment will your honor weare to day.

Beg. I am Chriftophero Sly, call not me honor nor lordship: 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.

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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 cease this idle humor in your honor.
Oh that a mightie man of such discent,
Of fuch poffeffions, and so high esteeme
Should be infused with fo foule a fpirit.

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 prefent profeffion a tinker. Afk Marrian Hacket the fat alewife of Wincot, if thee know me not: if she fay I am not xiiii. d. on the fcore for theere ale; score mee vp for the lying knaue in Christendome. 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 house As beaten hence by your ftrange lunacie.

Oh noble lord, bethinke thee of thy birth,

Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,

And banish hence these abie&t lowlie dreames:

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,
Softer and sweeter then the luftfull bed

On purpose trim'd vp for Semiramis.

Say thou wilt walke: we will beftrow the ground.
Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trap'd,
Their harnesse ftudded all with gold and pearle.
Doft thou loue hawking? Thou haft hawkes will foare

Aboue

Aboue the morning larke. Or wilt thou hunt,
Thy bounds fhall make the welkin answer them
And fetch fhrill ecchoes from the hollow earth.

1 Man. Say thou wilt courfe, thy gray-hounds are as fwift As breathed ftags: I fleeter then the roe.

2 Man. Doft thou loue pictures? we wil fetch thee ftrait 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 lo, as fhe 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 fhall 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 fhed for thee, Like enuious flouds ore run her louely face,

She was the fairest creature in the world,
And yet she is inferiour to none.

Beg. Am I a lord and haue I fuch a ladie?
Or do I dreame? Or haue I dream'd till now?
I do not fleepe : I fee, I heare, I fpeake :
I fmel fweet fauors, and I feele foft things:
Vpon my life I am a lord indeede,
And not a tinker, nor Chriftopher Slie.
Well, bring our ladie hither to our fight,
And once againe a pot o'th smallest ale.

2 Man. Wilt please your mightineffe to wash your hands: Oh how we joy to fee your wit reftor'd,

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