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i Man. Oh, this it is that makes your lady mourn. 2 Man. Oh, this it is that makes your servants
droop. Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred shun your
house, As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. Oh, noble Lord, bethink thee of thy birth, Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, 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 musick? hark, Apollo plays; [Mufick. And twenty caged nightingales do sing. Or wilt thou neep? 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 bestrow the ground: Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd, Their harness ftudded 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. I Man. Say, thou wilt course, thy greyhounds are
as swift As breathed stags; ay, fleeter than the roe. 2 Man. Dost thou love pictures ? we will fetch thee
Lord. We'll shew thee Io, as she was a maid,
3 Man. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, Scratching her legs, that one shall swear she bleeds:
tch thrill echolse the welkin anou hunt?
And at that sight shall fad Apollo. weep:
Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord :
Sly. Am I a Lord, and have I such a Lady?
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.
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
Sly. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends! : Al. 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 Sie mon; put forth thy hand and fill the pot.
[The servant gives bim drink.
S CE N E V.
Enter Lady, with Attendants. I thank thee; thou shalt not lose 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 man.
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. Come, sit down on my knee. Sim, drink to her. Madam wife, they say, that I have dream'd, and Nept 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. 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 of 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 excuse.
Sly. Ay, it stands fo, that I may hardly tarry so long; but I would be loath to fall into my dream again: I will therefore tarry in despight of the flesh and the blood.
S CE NE VI.
Enter a Meslenger.
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. Well, we'll see't : come, Madam wife, sit by my side, and let the world nip, we shall ne'er be younger.
THE TAMING of the SHR EW.
ACT I. SCENE I.
A Street in PAD U A.
To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,
I am arriv'd from fruitful Lombardy,