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$CENE, before an Alehouse on a Heath.

Enter Hostess and Sly.

***'LL pheese you, in faith.

Hoft. A pair of stocks, you rogue !

Sig. Y'are a baggage; the Slies are no *** rogues. Look in the Chronicles, we came

in with Richard Conqueror , therefore, paucus pallobris; (1) let the world slide : Sefa.

Hof. You will not pay for the glasses you have burs ?

Sly. No, not a deniere : go by Jeronima -go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. 12)

Hoft. (1) paucus pallabris. ] Sly, as an ignorant Fellow, is purposely made to aim at Languages out of his Knowledge, and knock the words out of Joint. The Spaniards say, pocas palabras, i. e. few words: as they do likewise, Ceja, i. e, be quiet,

(2) Go by S. Jeronimy, go to aby cold Bed, and warm thee.] All the Edicions have coined a Saias here, for Sly to Lwear by.


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Hoff. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the Thirdborough. (3)

Siy. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll anfwer him by law ; I'll not budge'an inch, boy; let him come, and kindly.

[Falls afleep.

But the Poet had no fuch Intentions. The Passage has particular Humour in it, and must have been very pleafing at that time of day. But I must clear up a Piece of Stage hiftory, to make it understood. There is a fuftian old Play, called, Hieronymo; Or, The Spanish Tragedy: wbich, I find, was the common Butt of Pallery to all the Poets of Shakespeare's Time and a Passags that ap; eared very ridiculous in that Play, is here humoroully alluded to. Hierong mo, thinking himself injured, applies to the King for Justice ; but the Courtiers, who did not defire his, Wrongs thould be set in a true Light, attempt to hinder him front an Audience,

Hiero. Fuflice, ob! justice to Hieronymo
Lor. Back;

-feeft thou not, the King is buly?
Hiero. Oh, is be jo?
King. Who is He, ibat interrupts our Business?

Hiero. Not I:- - Hieronymo, beware; go by, go by.. So Sly here, not caring to be dund by the Hostess, cries to her in Erect, “ Don't be troublesom, don't interrupt me, go by;" and, to fix the Satire in his Allusion, pleasantly calls her Jeromymo.

(3) I muff go fetch the Headborough.

Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth Borough, &c.] This corrupt Read ing had passed down through all the Copies, and none of the Editors pretended to guess at the Poet's Conceit. What an infpid, unmeaning Reply does Sly make to his Hoftefs? How do third, or fourtb, or fifib Borough relate to Headborough: The Author intended buť a poor Witticism, and even that is loft. The Hoffefs would say, that the'll fetch a Conflable: and this Officer the calls by his other Name, a Third-borougb: and upon this Term Sly founds the Conundrum in his Answer to her. Who does not perceive, at a single glance, some Conceit started by this certain Correction? There is an Attempt at Wit, tolerable enough for a Tinker, and one drunk too. I bird-borough is a Saxon-term sufficiently explained by the Glories : and in our Statute-books, no farther back than the 2&th Year of Henry VIIIth, we find it used to signify a. Conf.ablo,

Wind horns. Enter a Lord from hunting, with a Train.

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Lord. Huntfman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds;
(Brach, Merriman! the poor cur is imboft ;)
And couple Clowder with the deep'd-mouth'd Brach.
Saw't thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge-corner in the coldeft fault?
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.

hin. Why, Belman is a good as he, my Lord :
He cried upon it at the meereft lofs,
And twice to day pick'd out the dulleft scent :
Trust me, I take him for the better dog.

Lord. Tlou art a fool; if Eccho were aş fleet,
I would estee.n him worth a dozen fuch.
But sup them vell, and look unto them all,
To-morrow I intend to hunt again.

Hun. I will, my Lord.
Lord. What's here? one dead, for drunk ? fee, doch

he breathe ?
2 Hun. He breathes, my Lord. Were he not warm'di

with ale,
This were a bed but cold, to fleep fo foundly.

Lord. O monstrous beait ! how like a swine he lies !
Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thy image!
Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.
What think you, if he were convey'd to bed,
Wrapt in fweet cloaths ; rings put upon his fingers ;
A moft delicious banquet' by his bed,
And brave attendants near him, when he wakes ;
Would not the beggar then forget himself?

i Hun. Believe me, Lord, I think he cannot chuse.
2 Hun. It would seem sirange unto him, when he wak’d.

Lord. Even as a flatt'ring dream, or worthless fancy.
Then take him up, and manage well the jeft:
Carry him gently to my fairelt chamber,
And hang it round with all my wanton pidures ;
Balm his foul head with warm distilled waters,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweeta
Produce me mugck ready, when he wakes,


To make a dulcet and a heav'nly found;
And if he chance to speak, be ready straight,
And with a low submissive reverence
Say, what is it your Honour will command?
Let one attend him with a silver bafon
Full of rofe water, and bestrew'd with flowers ;
Another bear the ewer; a third a diaper ;
And say, will’t please your lordship cool your hands?
Some one be ready with a coftly fuit,
And ask him what apparel he will wear ;
Another tell him of his hounds and horse,
And that his Lady mourns at his disease;
Persuade him, that he hath been lunatick.
And when he fays he is,fay, that he dreams; i
For he is nothing but a mighty lord:
This do, and do it kindly, gentle Sirs :
It will be paftime palling excellent,
If it be husbanded with modefty.

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. Sound Trumpets. see what trumpet is that sounds. Belike, fome noble gentleman that means, [Ex. Servant, Travelling fome journey, to repose him here.

Re-enter a Serwant.

Sirrah, go

How now who is it?

Ser. An't please your Honour, Players That offer Service to your lorddhip.

Lord. Bid them come near :

Enter Players. Now, Fellows, you are welcome.

Play. We thank your Honour. Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night? 2 Play. So please your Lordship to accept our duty.


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Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember, ,
Since once he play'd a farmer's eldeft fon;
'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman fo well:
I have forgot your name; but, fure, that part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform’d.

Sim. I think, 'twas Soto that your Honour means. (4)

Lord. 'Tis very true; thou didit it excellent :
Well, you'are come to me in happy time,
The rather for I have some sport in hand,
Wherein your cunning can aslift me much.
There is a Lord will hear you play to-night;
But I am doubtful of your modefties,
Left, over-eying of his odd Behaviour,
(For yet his honour never heard a play.)
You break into some merry passion,
And so offend him : for I tell you, Sirs,
If you should smile, he grows impatient.

Play. Fear not, my lord, we can contain ourselves
Were he the veriett antick in the world.

2 Play. [to the other.} Go get a Dishclout to make
clean your ihoes
Thoes, and I'll speak for the properties. "

(Exit Player. My lord, we must have a shoulder of mutton for a pró. perty, and a little vinegar to make our devil roar.

Lord. Go, firrah, take them to the buttery.
And give them friendly welcome, every one:
Let them want nothing that the house affords settin

[Exit one with the Players.
Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page,
And see him dreft in all suits like a lady,
That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber,

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(4) I think, 'twas Soto. ] I take our Author here to be paying a Compliment to Beaumort and Fletcher's Women pleas'd, in which Comedy there is the Character of Soto, who is a Farmer's Son, and a very facetious Serving-man. Mr. Rowe and Mr. Pope prefix the Name of Sim to the Line here spoken; but the first Folio has it Sincklo; which, no doubt, was the Name of one of the Players here introduced, and who had played the Part of Sotą with Applause.


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