« 이전계속 »
Wherein your lady, and your humble wife,
S C Ε Ν Ε ΙΙ.
A Room in the Lord's House. Enter Sly, with Attendants, fome with apparel, bafon and
ewer, and other appurtenances. Re-enter Lord. Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale. 1 Man. Will’t please your lordship drink a cup of fack?
2 Man. Will’t please your honour taste of these con
serves ? 3 Man. What raiment will your honour wear to-day ?
Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me-honour, nor fordship: I ne'er drank fack in my life ; and if
and if you give me any conserves, give me conserves of beef: Ne'er alk me what raiment l'll wear ; for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay, sometimes, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather.
Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour! Oh, that a mighty man, of such descent, Of such poffeffions, and so high esteem, 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? Alk 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 lying'st knave in Christendom. What, I am not * bestraught : Here's
1 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,
"Burton-heath ;]-Burton-dasset, and Wincot, or Wilmecote, are Vil. lages in Warwickshire, the latter near to Stratford upon Avon.
* beftraught :]-distracted.
Each in his office ready at thy beck.
fwift 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;
Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:
1 Man. And, 'till the tears, that she hath shed for thee, Like envious foods, o'er-ran her lovely face, She was the fairelt creature in the world ; And yet
she is inferior to none.
wak’d, fo wak'd as if you slept,
1 Man. Oh, yes, my lord; but very idle words :-
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
3 Man. Why, fir, you know no house, nor no such maid; Nor so such men, as you have reckon'd upAs Stephen Sly, and old John Naps o' the green, And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell ;
* leet,]-court leet.
And twenty more such names and men as these,
Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends!
Enter the Page, as a lady, with attendants.
Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough. Where is my wife?
Lady. 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.
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 ?
Lady. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me;
Sly. 'Tis much ;-Servants leave me and her alone. Madam, undress you, and come now to-bed.
Lady. Thrice noble lord, let me intreat of you,
bed : I hope, this reason stands for my excuse. Sly. Ay, it stands fo, that I may hardly tarry so long.