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And Citberea all in sedges hid;
Which seem to move, and wanton with her breath,
Ev'n as the waving sedges play with wind.

Lord. We'll shew thee Io, as she was a maid,
And how she was beguiled and surpris’d,
As lively painted as the deed was done.

3 Man. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,
Scratching her legs, that, one shall swear, the bleeds ;
And at that fight shall sad Apollo weep :
So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.

Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord :
Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waining age.
1 Man. And 'till the tears, that she hath shed for

thee,
Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face,
She was the faireft Creature in the world,
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 dreamed 'till now?
I do not sleep; I see, I hear, I speak;
I smell sweet favours, and I feel soft things :
Upon my life, I am a Lord, indeed;
And not a Tinker, nor Christophero Sly.
Well, bring our Lady hither to our light,
And, once again, a pot o'th' smallest ale.
2 Man. Will’t please your Mightiness to wash your

hands?
Oh, how we joy to see your wits restorid !
Oh, that once more you knew but what you are !
These fifteen years you have been in a dream,
Or, when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you sept.

Śly. 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 say, ye were beaten out of door, And rail'd upon the Hostess of the house; And say, you would present her ap the Leet, Because she bought stone-jugs, and no seal’d quarts:

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Sometimes, you would call out for Cicely Hacket.

Sly, Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
3 Man. Why, Sir, you know no house; nor no such

maid;

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Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd up;
(6) As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell,
And twenty more such 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’ 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 Simon; put forth thy hand and fill the pot.

[The Servant gives him Drink,

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 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 hus,

band I am your wife in all obedience.

Sly. I know it well: what must I call her? (6) As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,] An unknown Correspondent, (who figns himself L. H.) is pleas'd to propose this very reasonable Conjecture,

and old Jahn Naps o'th'Green, As Sly says, He's the Son of old Sly of Burton-heath, and talks of the fat Alewife of Wincot ; he thinks, he can with no Propriety have any Acquaintance in Greece. If, indeed, the Province of Greece were to be here understood, this Observation must necessarily take place; but I have not disturbid the Text, because I do not know, but that, in the Neighbourhood of Wincot

and Burton-heath, there may be fome Village called Greece, or Greys, &c.

Lord,

Lord. Madam.
Sly. Alce madam, or Joan madam ?
Lord, Madam, and nothing else, so lords call ladies.

Sly. Come, fit down on my knee. Sim, drink to her. Madam wife, they say, that I have dream'd, and flept 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. '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 exprefly charg’d, 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 fo long; but I would be loath to fall into my dream again : I will therefore tarry in despight of the flesh and the blood.

Enter a Messenger. Mel. Your Honour's Players, hearing your amend

ment, Are come to play a pleasant Comedy ; For so your Doctors hold it very nieet, Seeing too much fadness hath congeald 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 trick ?

Lady. No, my good Lord, it is more pleasing stuff.
Sly. What, houshold stuff?
Lady. It is a kind of history.

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

The

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LUCENTIO.
Ranio, since for the great desire I had

To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,
T I am arriv'd from fruitful Lombardy, (7)

The pleasant garden of great Italy ;

And, by my father's love and leave, am

arm'd
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.
Pisa, 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 son, brought up in Florence,
It shall become to serve all hopes conceiv'd,

(7) I am arriv’d for fruitful Lombardy,] Tho' all the Impressions concur in this, I take it to be a Blunder of the Editors, and not of the Author. Padua is not in Lombardy ; but Pisa, from which Lucentio comes, is really in those Territories.

To

To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds:
And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,
Virtue and that part of philosophy
Will I apply, that trcars of happiness,
By virtuc specially to be atchiev'd.
Tell me thy mind, for I have Pisa left,
And am to Padua come, as he that leaves
A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep,
And with satiety seeks to quench his thirit.

Tra. Me pardonato, gentle master mine,
I am in all affected as your self:
Glad, that

you

thus continue your Resolve,
To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy:
Only, good master, while we do admire
This virtue, and this moral discipline,
Let's be no Stoicks, nor no stocks, I pray ;
Or, lo devotę to Aristotle's checks,
As Ovid be an Outcast quite abjur’d.
Talk logick with acquaintance that you have,
And practise rhetorick in your common talk;
Musick and Poesie use to quicken you ;
The Mathematicks, and the Metaphysicks,
Fall to them, as you find your stomach serves you:
No profit grows, where is no pleasure ta’en:
In brief, Sir, ftudy what you most affect.

Luc. Gramercies, Tranio, well doft thou advise ;
If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore,
We could at once put us in readiness ;
And take a lodging fit to entertain
Such friends, as time in Padua shall beget.
But stay a while, what company is this?

Tra. Master, some show to welcome us to town.
Enter Baptista with Catharina and Bianca, Gremio and

Hortensio. Lucentio and Tranio fand by,
Bap. Gentlemen Both, importune me no farther,
For how I firmly am resolv'd, you know;
That is, not to bestow my youngest Daughter,
Before I have a husband for the elder:
If either of you Both love Catharina,

Because

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