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Before an Alehouse on a Health. | |
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Enter Hostess and SLY. | |
| Sly. I’ll pheeze you, in faith. | |
| Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue! | |
| Sly. Y’are a baggage: the Slys are no rogues; look in the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore, paucas pallabris; let the world slide. Sessa! | 5 |
| Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? | |
| Sly. No, not a denier. Go by, Jeronimy, go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. | |
| Host. I know my remedy: I must go fetch the third-borough. [Exit. | |
| Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I’ll answer him by law. I’ll not budge an inch, boy: let him come, and kindly. [Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep. | |
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Horns winded. Enter a Lord from hunting, with Huntsmen and Servants. | 10 |
| Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds: | |
| Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss’d, | |
| And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth’d brach. | |
| Saw’st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good | |
| At the hedge-corner, in the coldest fault? | 15 |
| I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. | |
| First Hunt. Why, Bellman is as good as he, my lord; | |
| He cried upon it at the merest loss, | |
| And twice to-day pick’d out the dullest scent: | |
| Trust me, I take him for the better dog. | 20 |
| Lord. Thou art a fool: if Echo were as fleet, | |
| I would esteem him worth a dozen such. | |
| But sup them well, and look unto them all: | |
| To-morrow I intend to hunt again. | |
| First Hunt. I will, my lord. | 25 |
| Lord. [Sees SLY.] What’s here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe? | |
| Sec. Hunt. He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm’d with ale, | |
| This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. | |
| Lord. O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies! | |
| Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image! | 30 |
| Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. | |
| What think you, if he were convey’d to bed, | |
| Wrapp’d in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers, | |
| A most delicious banquet by his bed, | |
| And brave attendants near him when he wakes, | 35 |
| Would not the beggar then forget himself? | |
| First Hunt. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. | |
| Sec. Hunt. It would seem strange unto him when he wak’d. | |
| Lord. Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy. | |
| Then take him up and manage well the jest. | 40 |
| Carry him gently to my fairest chamber, | |
| And hang it round with all my wanton pictures; | |
| Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters, | |
| And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet. | |
| Procure me music ready when he wakes, | 45 |
| To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound; | |
| And if he chance to speak, be ready straight, | |
| And with a low submissive reverence | |
| Say, ‘What is it your honour will command?’ | |
| Let one attend him with a silver basin | 50 |
| Full of rose-water, and bestrew’d with flowers; | |
| Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper, | |
| And say, ‘Will ’t please your lordship cool your hands? | |
| Some one be ready with a costly suit, | |
| And ask him what apparel he will wear; | 55 |
| Another tell him of his hounds and horse, | |
| And that his lady mourns at his disease. | |
| Persuade him that he hath been lunatic; | |
| And, when he says he is——say that he dreams, | |
| For he is nothing but a mighty lord. | 60 |
| This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs: | |
| It will be pastime passing excellent, | |
| If it be husbanded with modesty. | |
| First Hunt. My lord, I warrant you we will play our part, | |
| As he shall think, by our true diligence, | 65 |
| He is no less than what we say he is. | |
| Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with him, | |
| And each one to his office when he wakes. [SLY is borne out. A trumpet sounds. | |
| Sirrah, go see what trumpet ’tis that sounds: [Exit Servant. | |
| Belike, some noble gentleman that means, | 70 |
| Travelling some journey, to repose him here. | |
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Re-enter Servant. | |
| How now! who is it? | |
| Serv. An it please your honour, | |
| Players that offer service to your lordship. | 75 |
| Lord. Bid them come near. | |
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Enter Players. | |
| Now, fellows, you are welcome. | |
| Players. We thank your honour. | |
| Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night? | 80 |
| A Player. So please your lordship to accept our duty. | |
| Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember, | |
| Since once he play’d a farmer’s eldest son: | |
| ’Twas where you woo’d the gentlewoman so well. | |
| I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part | 85 |
| Was aptly fitted and naturally perform’d. | |
| A Play. I think ’twas Soto that your honour means. | |
| Lord. ’Tis very true: thou didst it excellent. | |
| Well, you are come to me in happy time, | |
| The rather for I have some sport in hand | 90 |
| Wherein your cunning can assist me much. | |
| There is a lord will hear you play to-night; | |
| But I am doubtful of your modesties, | |
| Lest, over-eyeing of his odd behaviour,— | |
| For yet his honour never heard a play,— | 95 |
| You break into some merry passion | |
| And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs, | |
| If you should smile he grows impatient. | |
| A Player. Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves | |
| Were he the veriest antick in the world. | 100 |
| Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, | |
| And give them friendly welcome every one: | |
| Let them want nothing that my house affords. [Exeunt one with the Players. | |
| Sirrah, go you to Barthol’mew my page, | |
| And see him dress’d in all suits like a lady: | 105 |
| That done, conduct him to the drunkard’s chamber; | |
| And call him ‘madam,’ do him obeisance. | |
| Tell him from me,—as he will win my love,— | |
| He bear himself with honourable action, | |
| Such as he hath observ’d in noble ladies | 110 |
| Unto their lords, by them accomplished: | |
| Such duty to the drunkard let him do | |
| With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy; | |
| And say, ‘What is ’t your honour will command, | |
| Wherein your lady and your humble wife | 115 |
| May show her duty, and make known her love?’ | |
| And then, with kind embracements, tempting kisses, | |
| And with declining head into his bosom, | |
| Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy’d | |
| To see her noble lord restor’d to health, | 120 |
| Who for this seven years hath esteemed him | |
| No better than a poor and loathsome beggar. | |
| And if the boy have not a woman’s gift | |
| To rain a shower of commanded tears, | |
| An onion will do well for such a shift, | 125 |
| Which in a napkin being close convey’d, | |
| Shall in despite enforce a watery eye. | |
| See this dispatch’d with all the haste thou canst: | |
| Anon I’ll give thee more instructions. [Exit Servant. | |
| I know the boy will well usurp the grace, | 130 |
| Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman: | |
| I long to hear him call the drunkard husband, | |
| And how my men will stay themselves from laughter | |
| When they do homage to this simple peasant. | |
| I’ll in to counsel them: haply, my presence | 135 |
| May well abate the over merry spleen | |
| Which otherwise would grow into extremes. [Exeunt. | |
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