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And at that fight shall fad Apollo weep:
So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.
Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:
Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waining age.
I Man. And 'till the tears, that she hath Thed for
Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face,
She was the faireft creature in the world,
she is inferior to none.
Sly. Am I a Lord, and have I such a Lady?
Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now?
I do not neep; I see, I hear, I speak;
I smell sweet favours, and I feel soft things:
Upon my life, I am a Lord, indeed;
And not a Tinker, nor Christophero Sly.
Well, bring our Lady hither to our sight,
And once again, a pot o' th’ smallest ale.
2 Man. Will’t please your Mightiness to wash your
Oh, how we joy to see your wits restorid !
Oh, 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 sept.
Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap:
But did I never speak of all that time?
1 Man. Oh, yes, my Lord, but very idle words.
For tho' you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of door,
And rail'd upon the Hostess of the house;
And say, you would present her at the Leet,
Because she bought ftone-jugs, and no seal'd quarts :
Sometimes, you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
3 Man. Why, Sir, you know no house; nor no
Nor no fuch men, as you have reckond
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell
And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever faw.
Sly. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!
All. Amen. -
Sly. By th' Mass, I think I am a Lord indeed. What is thy name?
Man. Sim, an't please your Honour.
Sly. Sim? that's as much as to say, Simeon or Simon ; put forth thy hand and fill the
pot. [The servant gives him drink.
S C E N E V.
Enter Lady, with Attendants. I thank thee; thou shalt not lofe 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 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. - Alce madam, or Joan madam?
Lord. Madam, and nothing else, fo lords call ladies.
Sly. Come, sit down on my knee. Sim, drink to her. Madam wife, they fay, that I have dream'd, and sept 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 me and her alone: Madam, undress you, and come now to bed. Sim, drink to her.
Lady. Thrice-noble Lord, let me entreat you, To pardon me yet for a night or two: Or, if not so, until the sun be set; For your Physicians have expresly charg'd, In peril to incur your former malady, That I should yet absent me from your bed; I hope, this reason ftands for my excufe.
Sly. Ay, it stands fo, that I may hardly tarry fo long; but I would be loath to fall into
dream again: I will therefore carry in defpight of the fiefh and the blood.
Enter a Messenger.
Mel. Your Honour's Players, hearing youramend-
Are come to play a pleasant Comedy;
For so your Doctors hold it very meet,
Seeing too much fadness hath congeald your blood;
And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.
Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play,
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment;
Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life.
Sly. Marry, I will; let them play; is it not a Commodity? a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick?
Lady. No, my good Lord, it is more pleasing stuff.
Sly. What, houshold ftuff?
Lady. It is a kind of history.
Sly. Well, we'll see't: come, Madam wife, sit by my side, and let the world nip, we shall ne'er be younger,
Ranio, since for the great desire I had
To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,
I am arriv'd from fruitful Lombardy,
The pleasant garden of great Italy;
And, by my father's love and leave, ami
With his good-will, and thy good company:
Most trusty servant, well approv'd in all,
Here let us breathe, and haply institute
A course of learning, and ingenious studies.
Pisa, renowned for grave citizens,
Gave me my Being; and my father first,
A merchant of great traffick through the world :
Vincentio's come of the Bentivolii,
Vincentio his son, brought up in Florence,
It shall become to serve all hopes conceiv’d,
To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds :
And therefore, Tranio, for the time I ftudy,
(a) To Virtue and that part of philosophy
Will I apply, that treats of happiness
By virtue fpecially to be atchiev'd.
Tell me thy mind, for I have Pisa left,
And am to Padua come, as he that leaves
A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep,
And with latiety seeks to quench his thirst.
Tra. Me pardonato, gentle master mine,
I am in all affected as your self:
Glad, that you thus continue your resolve,
To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy:
Only, good master, while we do admire
I This virtue, and this moral discipline,
Let's be no Stoicks, nor no stocks, I pray;
Or, fo devote to Aristotle's checks,
As Ovid be an Outcast quite abjurd.
Talk logick with acquaintance that you have,
And practise rhetorick in your common talk;
Musick and Poesie use to quicken you ;
The Mathematicks, and the Metaphysicks,
Fall to them, as you find your stomach serves you :
No profic grows, where is no pleasure ta’en:
In brief, Sir, study what
most affect. Luc. Gramercies, Tranio, well doft thou advise; If, Biondello, thou wert come alhore,
We could at once put us in readiness;
And take a lodging fit to entertain
Such friends, as time in Padua shall beget.
But stay a while, what company is this?
Trai Master, some show to welcome us to town.
( (a) To virtue. Oxford Editor - Vulg. virtue. ]