Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale. First Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack? Sec. Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these conserves? Third Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day? 5 Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me 'honour' nor 'lordship:' I ne'er 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 stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than 10 feet; nay, sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather. Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour! O, that a mighty man of such descent, Of such possessions and so high esteem, 15 Should be infused with so foul a spirit! Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-heath, by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask 20 Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife 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: here's— Third Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn! 25 Sec. Serv. O, this is it that makes your servants droop! Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house, As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth, Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment 30 And banish hence these abject lowly dreams. Look how thy servants do attend on thee, Each in his office ready at thy beck. Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays, [Music. And twenty caged nightingales do sing: 35 Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground: Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd, 40 Their harness studded all with gold and pearl. Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will 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. 45 First Serv. Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. Sec. Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight Adonis painted by a running brook And Cytherea all in sedges hid 50 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 surprised, As lively painted as the deed was done. 55 Third 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: 60 Thou hast a lady far more beautiful Than any woman in this waning age. First Serv. And till the tears that she hath shed for thee Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face, She was the fairest creature in the world; 65 And yet 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 sleep: I see, I hear, I speak; I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things: 70 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' the smallest ale. Sec. Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands? 75 O, how we joy to see your wit restored! O, that once more you knew but what you are! These fifteen years you have been in a dream; Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept. Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap. 80 But did I never speak of all that time? First 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; 85 And say you would present her at the leet, Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts: Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house. Third Serv. Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid, 90 Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up, As Stephen Sly and old John Naps of Greece And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell And twenty more such names and men as these Which never were nor no man ever saw. 95 Sly. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends! All. Amen. Sly. I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it. Enter the Page as a lady, attended. Page. How fares my noble lord? Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough. 100 Where is my wife? Page. Here, noble lord: what is thy will with her? Sly. Are you my wife and will not call me husband? My men should call me 'lord:' I am your good-man. Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband; 105 I am your wife in all obedience. Sly. I know it well. What must I call her? Lord. Madam. Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam? Lord. 'Madam,' and nothing else: so lords call ladies. 110 Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd And slept above some fifteen year or more. Page. 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. 115 Madam, undress you and come now to bed. Page. Thrice-noble lord, let me entreat of you To pardon me yet for a night or two; Or, if not so, until the sun be set: For your physicians have expressly charged, 120 In peril to incur your former malady, That I should yet absent me from your bed: I hope this reason stands for my excuse. Sly. Ay, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into my dreams again: I will 125 therefore tarry in despite of the flesh and the blood. Enter a Messenger. Mess. Your honour's players, hearing your amendment, Are come to play a pleasant comedy; For so your doctors hold it very meet, Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood, 130 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 it. Is not a comonty 135 a Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick? Page. No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff. Sly. What, household stuff? Page. It is a kind of history. Sly. Well, we'll see't. Come, madam wife, sit by my 140 side and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger. Flourish.

LINENOTES:

Scene ii.] Capell. Scene iv. Pope. A ... house.] Theobald.

Enter aloft Sly ...] Enter aloft the drunkard ... Ff Q. A stately Room in the Lord's House: In it a Stage and other Appurtenances, for the Play: and, in another Part, a Bed; Sly, in a rich Night-dress, sitting on it; surrounded by Servants, bearing Apparel, Bason, Ewer, &c. a Sideboard being by. Enter, at lower End, the Lord, himself habited like a Servant. Capell.

[1] Sly.] Beg. Ff Q, and elsewhere in the scene.

[5] Christophero] Christopher Warburton.

[10] sometime] sometimes F3 F4.

[12] idle] evil Collier MS.

[17] Christopher] F1 Q F2. Christophero F3 F4.

Sly's] Sies F1.

Burton-heath] Barton-heath Steevens conj.

[18] card-maker] cart-maker or cord-maker or crate-maker or cord-wainer Anon. conj.

[21] fourteen pence] xiiii. d. F1 Q F2. xiv. d. F3 F4.

score] sorce F2.

[22] sheer] F4. sheere F1 Q F2 F3. shear Jordan conj. Warwickshire Collier MS.

[23] What!] What Ff Q. What?—Hanmer.

bestraught] distraught Steevens conj. (withdrawn).

here's—] Ff. here's Q.

[24] Third Serv.] 3. Man. F1 Q F2. 1. Man. F3 F4.

[25] is it] it is Rowe.

[26] shuns] shun Rowe.

[43] hounds] bounds Q.

[47] Sec. Serv.] 2. M. Ff Q.

[51] with] with th' Anon. conj.

[63] o'er-run]o'er-ran Theobald.

[71] Christophero] F2 F3 F4. Christopher F1 Q.

[74] [presenting the Ewer, &c. Capell.

[75] wit] wits F3 F4.

[78] so] you Rowe.

[84] rail] rail'd Rowe.

[86] no] not Collier MS.

[91] of Greece] o' th' Green Hanmer (L. II. apud Theobald conj.). of Greys or of Greete Halliwell conj.

[92] Henry] Harry Capell conj.

[96] See note (vi).]

[97] Scene v. Pope.

Enter ...] Capell. Enter Lady with Attendants. Ff Q (after line 96).

[98-100] Capell prints as two lines How ... well; For ... wife?

[99, 100] Marry ... wife?] Printed as prose by Pope.

[108] Al'ce] Capell. Alce Ff.

[110] See note (vii).

Madam] Humph madam Capell conj. Madam, my S. Walker conj.

[110, 111] Madam ... more] As prose in Pope.

[111] above] F1 Q F2. about F3 F4.

year or] year and F4. years and Rowe.

[114, 115] 'Tis much ... bed] As prose in Pope.

[120] In] On Capell. your] you Q.

[124] dreams] dream Rowe.

[126] Scene vi. Pope.

Enter ...] Ff. Enter another servant. Capell.

[129] too much] so much Rowe.

[134] Marry ... Is not] Capell (play't). Marrie I will let them play, it is not F1 Q F2. Marry I will, let them play, it is not F3. Marry I will, let them play, is it not F4.

comonty] commodity? Pope, from (Q).

[134-140] Marry ... younger] Capell prints as six lines of verse.

[135] gambold] Ff Q. gambol Pope.

[140] and ... younger] We shall ne'er be younger, and let the world slide Collier (Collier MS.), reading 139, 140 as rhyme.

[Seating her for the Play. Capell. They sit down. Malone.

Flourish.] Ff Q. om. Capell.