That reason wonder may diminish, SONG. Wedding is great Juno's crown; O blessed bond of board and bed! High wedlock then be honoured: Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me; Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. [To Sil. Enter Jaques de Bois. Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word, or That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us, Play, music;--and you brides and bridegrooms all, Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue: but it is no more unhandsome, than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true, that 'good wine needs no bush,' 't is true, that a good play needs no epilogue: Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me: my way is, to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please you and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hates them,) that between you and the women, the play may please. If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me, and breaths that I defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell. [Exeunt. Wind horns. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his Train. Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds: Brach Merriman,-the poor cur is emboss'd; 1 Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; Lord. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fleet, I Hun. I will, my lord. Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe? 2 Hun. He breathes, my lord: Were he not warm'd with ale, This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. Lord. O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies! Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image! Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. What think you, if he were convey'd to bed, Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his finA most delicious banquet by his bed, [gers, And brave attendants near him when he wakes, Would not the beggar then forget himself? 1 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. 2 Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd. Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worthless fancy. Then take him up, and manage well the jest: Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers; [hands? And say,-Will't please your lordship cool your And, when he says he is, say, that he dreams, If it be husbanded with modesty. 1 Hun. My lord, I warrant you, we 'll play our part, As he shall think, by our true diligence, He is no less than what we say he is. Lord. Take him up gently and to bed with him; And each one to his office, when he wakes. [Some bear out Sly. A trumpet sounds. Sirrah, go see what trumpet 't is that sounds: [Exit Servant. Belike, some noble gentleman, that means, Travelling some journey, to repose him here. Re-enter a Servant. Now, fellows, you are welcome. Players. We thank your honour. Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night ? 2 Play. 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 ;— 'T was where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well : I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd." [means. 1 Play. I think, 't was Soto that your honour Lord. 'T is very true ;-thou didst it excellent. And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady: [Exit Servant. sometime, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather. [honour! Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your O, that a mighty man of such descent, Of such possessions, 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 cardmaker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat alewife 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 lyingest knave in Christendom. What! I am not bestraught: Here's- I Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn. 2 Serv. O, this it is that makes your servants droop. Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shun your As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. [house, 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 servants do attend on thee, Each in his office ready at thy beck. Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays, [Music. And twenty caged nightingales do sing: 1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. [as swift 2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee Adonis, painted by a running brook; [straight And Cytherea all in sedges hid, Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, Lord. We'll show thee Io, as she was a maid [wood; 3 Serv. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds: And at that sight 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 waning age. 1 Serv. And, till the tears that she hath shed for Like envious floods o'er-ran her lovely face, [thee, She was the fairest 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 dream'd till now ? I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak; I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things:- 2 Serv. Will 't please your mightiness to wash your hands? [Servants present an ewer, bason, and napkin. O, how we joy to see your wit restor❜d! O, that once more you knew but what you are! These fifteen years you have been in a dream; 1 Serv. O yes, my lord; but very idle words :- Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house. [maid; 3 Serv. Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such Nor no such 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 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. I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it. Enter the Page, as a lady, with Attendants. Page. How fares my noble lord? Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough. Where is my wife? Page. 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 goodman. Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and I am your wife in all obedience. [husband; Sly. I know it well: What must I call her? Lord. Madam. Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam? [ladies. Lord. Madam, and nothing else; so lords call Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd, And slept above some fifteen year or more. Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me; Being all this time abandon'd from your bed. Sly. 'T is much. Servants, leave me and her alone. Madam, undress you, and come now to bed. Page. 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 expressly 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 so long. But I would be loath to fall into my dreams again. I will therefore tarry, in despite of the flesh and the blood. Enter a Servant, Serv. Your honour's players, hearing your amendAre come to play a pleasant comedy, [ment, For so your doctors hold it very meet : Seeing too much sadness 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 commonty, a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling-trick? Page. No, my good lord: it is more pleasing stuff. Sly. What, household stuff? Page. It is a kind of history. Sly. Well, we 'll see 't: Come, madam wife, sit by my side, and let the world slip; we shall ne'er be younger. [They sit down. ÁCT I. SCENE I.-Padua. A public Place. Luc. Tranio, since for the great desire I had And, by my father's love and leave, am arm'd A merchant of great traffic through the world, And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study |