"Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll anfwer "him by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy; let him "come, and kindly. [Falls from off bis Bench, and fleeps.

Horns.

Enter a Lord, from hunting; Huntfmen, and Servants, with him.

Lord. Huntfman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds: Leech Merriman,-the poor cur is imboft,

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?
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.

1. H. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; He cry'd upon it at the meereft lofs,

And twice to day pick'd out the dulleft scent:
Trust me, I take him for the better dog.

Lord. Thou art a fool; if Eccho were as fleet,

I would efteem him worth a dozen fuch.
But fup them well, and look unto them all;
To-morrow I intend to hunt again.

1. H. I will, my lord.

Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?

2. H. He breathes, my lord: Were he not warm'd with ale,

This were a bed but cold to fleep fo foundly.

Lord. O monstrous beast; how like a fwine he lies! Grim death, how foul and loathfome is thine image!Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man :

What think you,-if he were convey'd to bed,
Wrap'd in fweet cloaths, rings put upon his fingers,
A moft delicious banquet by his bed,

'And brave attendants near him when he wakes,
Would not the beggar then forget himself * ?

1. H. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.
2. H. It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd.

His lordfhip in this speech starts an innocent and not improbable fuggeftion of pleafantry, for liquor does in many perfons obliterate all trace of what has happened during its poffeffion of the objects.

Lord. Even as a flatt'ring dream, or worthlefs fancy.
Then take him up, and manage well the jeft :-
Carry him gently to my faireft chamber,

And hang it round with all my wanton pictures :
Balm his foul head in warm diftilled waters,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging fweet:
Procure me mufick ready when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heavenly found;
And if he chance to fpeak, be ready ftraight,
And, with a low fubmiffive reverence,

Say,-What is it your honour will command ?
Let one attend him with a filver bason,

Full of rofe-water, and beftrew'd with flowers;
Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,

And fay,-Will't please your lordship cool your hands?
Some one be ready with a coftly fuit,

And ask him what apparel he will wear;
Another tell him of his hounds and horse,
And that his lady mourns at his disease:
Perfuade him, that he hath been lunatick ;

And, when he fays-he's poor, fay-that he dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty lord.

This do, and do it kindly, gentle firs;

It will be paftime paffing excellent,

If it be husbanded with modefty.

1. H. My lord, I warrant you, we will play our part, As he fhall think, by our true diligence,

He is no less than what we fay he is.

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

[Exeunt fome with Sly. Trumpet heard. Sirrah, go fee what trumpet 'tis that founds :

[Exit Servant.

Belike, fome noble gentleman; that means,
Travelling fome journey, to repofe him here.—
Re-enter Servant.

Ser. An't please your honour, players, That come to offer fervice to your lordship.

Lord. Bid them come near.

Enter certain Players *.

Now, fellows, you are welcome.

Pla. We thank your honour.

Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night? 2. P. 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 fo well: I have forgot your name; but, fure, that part Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd.

1. P. 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 fome sport in hand,
Wherein your cunning can assist me much.
There is a lord will hear you play to-night:
But I am doubtful of your modefties;
Left, over-eying of his odd behaviour,
(For yet his honour never heard a play)
You break into fome merry paffion,
And fo offend him; for I tell you, firs,
If you should fmile, he grows impatient.

I. P. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves, Were he the verieft antick in the world.

Lord. Go, firrah, take them to the buttery, And give them friendly welcome every one; Let them want nothing that my house affords.

[Exeunt Servant, and Players. Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page,

[to another Servant.

And fee him drefs'd in all fuits like a lady:
That cone, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber,
And call him-Madam, do him all obeisance.
Tell him from me,-as he will win my love,
He bear himself with honourable action;

Shakespeare miffed no opportunity of realizing fome characters, by introducing others as fictitious, and his regard for the ftage is properly manifefted by taking care that exalted characters. fhould ever treat the actors with respect.

Such

Such as he hath observ'd in noble ladies Unto their lords, by them accomplished: Such duty to the drunkard let him do, With foft low tongue, and lowly courtesy *; "And fay,-What is't your honour will command, "Wherein your lady, and your humble wife, "May fhew her duty, and make known her love?" "And then-with kind embracements, tempting kiffes, "And with declining head into his bofom,"Bid him shed tears, as being over-joy'd "To fee her noble lord reftor'd to health, "Who for this feven years hath esteemed him "No better than a poor and loathfome beggar: "And if the boy have not a woman's gift, "To rain a fhower of commanded tears, "An onion will do well for fuch a fhift: "Which in a napkin being clofe convey'd, "Shall in defpight enforce a watery eye. See this dispatch'd with all the hafte thou canft; Anon I'll give thee more inftructions.[Exit Serv.. I know, the boy will well ufurp the grace, 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 fimple peafant. I'll in to counfel them: haply, my presence May well abate the over-merry fpleen, Which otherwife would grow into extremes.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A fately 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, fitting on it; furrounded by Servants, bearing Apparel, Bafon, Ewer, &c. a Side-board being by.

Enter, at lower End, the Lord, himself habited like a Servant.

Sly. For heav'n's fake, a pot of fmall ale.

We think the following marked lines are rather fuperfluous, and confequently heavy. for public expreffion, especially coming fo foon after the directions given for Sly's treatment in his state of mock grandeur.

1. S. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of fack 2. S. Will't please your honour taste of these conferves?

3. S. What raiment will your honour wear to-day?

Sly. I am Chriftophero Sly; call not me-honour, nor lordship: I ne'er drank fack in my life; and if you give me any conferves, give me conferves of beef: Ne'er afk me, what raiment I'll wear; for I have no more doublets than backs, no more ftockings than legs, nor no more fhoes than feet; nay, fometimes more feet than fhoes, or fuch fhoes as my toes look through the over-leather.

Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour! O, that a mighty man, of fuch descent,

Of fuch poffeffions, and fo high esteem,
Should be infused with so foul a spirit!

Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Chriftopher Shy, old Sly's fon of Burton heath; by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by tranfmutation a bear-herd, and now by prefent profeffion a tinker? Afk Marrian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if the know me not: if fhe fay I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, fcore me up for the lying'ft knave in Christendom. What, I am not beftraught: Here's

3. S. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn. 2. S. O, this is it that makes your fervants droop. Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred fhun your house,

As beaten hence by your ftrange lunacy.

O, noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth;

Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams:
Look, how thy fervants do attend on thee,

Each in his office ready at thy back.

Wilt thou have mufic? hark! Apollo plays,

[Mufic heard within. And twenty caged nightingales do fing:

Or wilt thou fleep? we'll have thee to a couch,
Softer and fweeter than the luftful bed

-On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.

Say, thou wilt walk; we will beftrow the ground:
Or wilt thou ride? thy horfes fhall be trap'd,