SLY
I’ll pheeze you, in faith.
HOSTESS
A pair of stocks, you rogue!
SLY
Y’are a baggage; the Slys are no rogues; look in the chronicles: we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore, paucas pallabris; let the world slide. Sessa!
HOSTESS
You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?
SLY
No, not a denier. Go by, Saint Jeronimy, go to cold bed and warm .
HOSTESS
I know my remedy; I must go fetch the third-borough.
SLY
Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I’ll answer him by law. I’ll not budge an inch, boy: let him come, and kindly.
LORD
Huntsman, I charge , tender well my hounds;
Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss’d,
And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth’d brach.
Saw’st not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge-corner, in the coldest fault?
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
FIRST HUNTSMAN
Why, Bellman is as good as he, my lord;
He cried upon it at the merest loss,
And twice today pick’d out the dullest scent;
Trust me, I take him for the better dog.
LORD
art a fool: if Echo were as fleet,
I would esteem him worth a dozen such.
But sup them well, and look unto them all;
Tomorrow I intend to hunt again.
FIRST HUNTSMAN
I will, my lord.
LORD
What’s here? One dead, or drunk?
See, he breathe?
SECOND HUNTSMAN
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 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 fingers,
A most delicious banquet by his bed,
And brave attendants near him when he wakes,
Would not the beggar then forget himself?
FIRST HUNTSMAN
Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.
SECOND HUNTSMAN
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.
Carry him gently to my fairest chamber,
And hang it round with all my wanton pictures;
Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet.
Procure me music ready when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound;
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 basin
Full of rose-water and bestrew’d with flowers;
Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,
And say ‘Will’t please your lordship cool your hands?’
Someone be ready with a costly suit,
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 been lunatic;
And, when he says he is—say that he dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty lord.
This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs;
It will be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modesty.
FIRST HUNTSMAN
My lord, I warrant you we will 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.
LORD
, go see what trumpet that sounds.
LORD
some noble gentleman that means,
Travelling some journey, to repose him here.
LORD
How now! who is it?
SERVANT
An it please your honour, players
That offer service to your lordship.
LORD
Bid them come near.
LORD
Now, fellows, you are welcome.
PLAYERS
We thank your honour.
LORD
Do you intend to stay with me tonight?
PLAYER
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;
where you woo’d the gentlewoman so well.
I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part
Was aptly fitted and naturally perform’d.
PLAYER
I think Soto that your honour means.
LORD
very true; it excellent.
Well, you are come to me in happy time,
The rather for I have some sport in hand
Wherein your cunning can assist me much.
There is a lord will hear you play tonight;
But I am doubtful of your modesties,
Lest, 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.
PLAYER
Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves,
Were he the veriest antick in the world.
LORD
Go, , take them to the buttery,
And give them friendly welcome everyone:
Let them want nothing that my house affords.
LORD
, go you to Barthol’mew my page,
And see him dress’d in all suits like a lady;
That done, conduct him to the drunkard’s chamber,
And call him ‘madam,’ do him obeisance.
Tell him from me—as he will win my love,—
He bear himself with honourable action,
Such as he observ’d in noble ladies
Unto their lords, by them accomplished;
Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy,
And say ‘What is’t your honour will command,
Wherein your lady and your humble wife
May show her duty and make known her love?’
And then with kind embracements, tempting kisses,
And with declining head into his bosom,
Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy’d
To see her noble lord restor’d to health,
Who for this seven years esteemed him
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar.
And if the boy have not a woman’s gift
To rain a shower of commanded tears,
An onion will do well for such a shift,
Which, in a napkin being close convey’d,
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
See this dispatch’d with all the haste canst;
I’ll give more instructions.
LORD
I know the boy will well usurp the grace,
Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman;
I long to hear him call the drunkard husband;
And how my men will stay themselves from laughter
When they do homage to this simple peasant.
I’ll in to counsel them; haply my presence
May well abate the over-merry spleen,
Which otherwise would grow into extremes.