And at that fight fhall fad Apollo weep:
So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn."

Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:
Thou haft a lady far more beautiful

Than any woman in this waining age.

I Man. And 'till the tears, that fhe hath fhed for

Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face,
She was the faireft creature in the world,
And yet fhe is inferior to none.

Sly. Am I a Lord, and have I fuch a Lady?
Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now?
I do not fleep; I fee, I hear, I fpeak;
I smell sweet favours, and I feel foft things:
Upon my life, I am a Lord, indeed;
And not a Tinker, nor Chriftophero Sly.
Well, bring our Lady hither to our fight,
And once again, a pot o' th' smallest ale.

2 Man. Will't please your Mightiness to wash your


Oh, how we joy to fee your wits restor❜d!
Oh, that once more you knew but what you are!
These fifteen years you have been in a dream,
Or, when you wak'd, fo wak'd as if you flept.
Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap:
But did I never speak of all that time?

I Man. Oh, yes, my Lord, but very idle words.
For tho' you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you fay, ye were beaten out of door,
And rail'd upon the Hoftefs of the house;
And fay, you would prefent her at the Leet,
Because the bought ftone-jugs, and no feal'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 houfe; nor no fuch maid;

Nor no fuch men, as you have reckon'd up;


As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell,

And twenty more fuch names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.

Sly. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!
All. Amen.-

Sly. By th' Mafs, 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 fay, Simeon or Simon; put forth thy hand and fill the


[The fervant gives him drink.


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 fhould 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 muft I call her?
Lord. Madam.

Sly. Alce madam, or Joan madam?

Lord. Madam, and nothing else, fo lords call ladies. Sly. Come, fit down on my knee. Sim, drink to her. Madam wife, they fay, that I have dream'd, and flept above some fifteen years and more.

Lady. Ay, and the time feems 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 of you, To pardon me yet for a night or two: Or, if not fo, until the fun be fet; For your Physicians have exprefly charg'd, In peril to incur your former malady, That I fhould yet abfent me from your bed; I hope, this reafon ftands for my excufe.

Sly. Ay, it ftands fo, that I may hardly tarry fo long; but I would be loath to fall into my dream again: I will therefore tarry in defpight of the fiefh and the blood.



Enter a Meffenger.


Mell. Your Honour's Players, hearing your amend


Are come to play a pleafant Comedy;
For fo your Doctors hold it very meet,

Seeing too much fadnefs hath congeal'd 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

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Lady. No, my good Lord, it is more pleasing stuff.
Sly. What, houfhold ftuff?

Lady. It is a kind of hiftory.

Sly. Well, we'll fee't: come, Madam wife, fit by my fide, and let the world flip, we fhall ne'er be younger.







A Street in PADU A.

Flourish. Enter Lucentio and Tranio.


Ranio, fince for the great defire I had
To fee 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, am

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.
Pifa, 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 fon, brought up in Florence,


It shall become to ferve 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 philofophy
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 fhallow plash to plunge him in the deep,
And with fatiety feeks to quench his thirst.
Tra. Me pardonato, gentle mafter mine,
I am in all affected as your felf:
Glad, that you thus continue your resolve,
To fuck the sweets of fweet philofophy:
Only, good mafter, while we do admire
This virtue, and this moral difcipline,
Let's be no Stoicks, nor no ftocks, I pray;
Or, fo devote to Ariftotle's checks,
As Ovid be an Outcast quite abjur'd.
Talk logick with acquaintance that you have,
And practise rhetorick in your common talk;
Mufick and Poefie ufe to quicken you;
The Mathematicks, and the Metaphyficks,
Fall to them, as you find your ftomach ferves you:
No profit grows, where is no pleasure ta'en:
In brief, Sir, ftudy what you most affect.

Luc. Gramercies, Tranie, well doft thou advise; If, Biondello, thou wert come afhore,

We could at once put us in readiness ;
And take a lodging fit to entertain

Such friends, as time in Padua fhall beget.
But ftay a while, what company is this?

Tra. Mafter, fome fhow to welcome us to town.

[(a) To virtue. Oxford Editor-Vulg. virtue. ]


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