Gracious sovereign,

King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.
Gent.
Whether I have been to blame, or no, I know not;
Here's a petition from a Florentine,

Who hath for four or five removes 7, come short
To tender it herself. I undertook it,

Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech
Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know,
Is here attending: her business looks in her
With an important visage; and she told me,
In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern
Your highness with herself.

King. [Reads.] Upon his many protestations to marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won me. Now is the count Rousillon a widower; his vows are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to his country for justice: Grant it me, 0 king; in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is undone.

DIANA CAPULET. Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll him for this, I'll none of him.

King. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu,

To bring forth this discovery.-Seek these suitors:Go, speedily, and bring again the count.

[Exeunt Gentleman, and some attendants. I am afeard, the life of Helen, lady, Was foully snatch'd.

Count.

Now, justice on the doers! Enter BERTRAM, guarded.

King. I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to you,

And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, Yet you desire to marry. What woman's that?

Good my lord,

Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
He had not my virginity.

King. What say'st thou to her?
Ber.
She's impudent, my lord;
And was a common gamester to the camp.'
Dia. He does me wrong, my lord; if I were so,
He might have bought me at a common price:
Do not believe him: O, behold this ring,
Whose high respect, and rich validity,
Did lack a parallel; yet, for all that,
He gave it to a commoner o' the camp,
If I be one.

Count. He blushes, and 'tis it: Of six preceding ancestors, that gem Conferr'd by testament to the sequent issue, Hath it been ow'd and worn. This is his wife; That ring's a thousand proofs.

King.

Methought, you said, You saw one here in court could witness it.

Dia. I did, my lord, but loath am to produce
So bad an instrument; his name's Parolles.
Laf. I saw the man to-day, if man he be.
King. Find him, and bring him hither.
Ber.

What of him?
He's quoted for a most perfidious slave,
With all the spots o' the world tax'd and debosh'd 3;
Whose nature sickens, but to speak a truth:
Am I or that, or this, for what he'll utter,
That will speak any thing?

King. She hath that ring of yours. Ber. I think, she has: certain it is, I lik'd her. She knew her distance, and did angle for me, Madding my eagerness with her restraint, As all impediments in fancy's 4 course Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine, Her insuit coming with her modern grace 5, Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring; And I had that, which any inferior might At market-price have bought.

Dia.

I must be patient;

You, that turn'd off a first so noble wife,
May justly diet me. I pray you yet,
(Since you lack virtue, I will lose a husband,)
Send for your ring, I will return it home,
And give me mine again.

Ber.

I have it not. King. What ring was yours, I pray you?

Dia.

The same upon your finger.

Sir, much like

Not fearing the displeasure of your master, (Which, on your just proceeding, I'll keep off,) By him, and by this woman here, what know you? Par. So please your majesty, my master hath been an honourable gentleman; tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen have.

King. Come, come, to the purpose: Did he love this woman?

Par. 'Faith, sir, he did love her; But how?
King. How, I pray you.

King. Take her away.
Dia.
I'll put in bail, my liege.
King. I think thee now some common customer.
Dia. By Jove, if ever I knew man 'twas you.
King. Wherefore hast thou accus'd him all this
while?

Dia. Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty;
He knows I am no maid, and he'll swear to't.
I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not.
Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life;
I am either maid, or else this old man's wife.
[Pointing to LAFEU.
King. She does abuse our ears; to prison with her.
Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail. Stay, royal
sir;
[Exit Widow.
The jeweller, that owes the ring, is sent for,
And he shall surety me. But for this lord,
Who hath abus'd me, as he knows himself,
Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him:
He thinks himself, my bed he hath defil'd;
But 'twas his wife who then became with child:
And now behold the meaning.

woman.

King. How is that?

Par. He loved her, sir, and loved her not. King. As thou art a knave, and no knave: — What an equivocal companion is this?

Par. I am a poor man, and at your majesty's command.

Laf. He's a good drum my lord, but a naughty

orator.

Dia. Do you know, he promised me marriage? Par. 'Faith, I know more than I'll speak.

King. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st? Par. Yes, so please your majesty; I did go between them, as I said; but more than that, he loved her, for indeed he was mad for her, and talked of Satan, and of limbo, and of furies, and I know not what yet I was in that credit with them at that time, that I knew of their going to bed; and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things that would derive me ill will to speak of, therefore I will not speak what I know.

King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou❘ canst say they are married: But thou art too fine in thy evidence therefore stand aside This ring, you say, was yours? Dia. Ay, my good lord. King. Where did you buy it? or who gave it you? Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it. King. Who lent it you? Dia. It was not lent me neither. King. Where did you find it then? I found it not King. If it were yours by none of all these ways, How could you give it him? Dia.

Dia.

I never gave it him. Laf. This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes off and on at pleasure.

King. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife. Dia. It might be yours or hers for aught I know. King. Take her away, I do not like her now; To prison with her, and away with him. Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring, Thou diest within this hour.

Dia.

I'll never tell you.

Is't real, that I see?
Hel.
No, my good lord;
'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
The name, and not the thing.
Ber.

Both, both; O, pardon!
Hel. O, my good lord, when I was like this maid,
I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring,
And, look you, here's your letter; This it says,
When from my finger you can get this ring,
And are by me with child, &c. This is done :
Will you be mine, now you are doubly won?
Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this
clearly,

I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly.

Hel. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue, Deadly divorce step between me and you! O, my dear mother, do I see you living?

Laf. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon: Good Tom Drum, [To PAROLLES.] lend me a handkerchief: So, I thank thee: wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee: Let thy courtesies alone, They are scurvy ones.

SCENE I. Before an Alehouse on a Heath.

And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach.
Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault?
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
1 Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord! ;
He cried upon it at the merest loss,
And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent:
Trust me, I take him for the better dog.

Lord. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fieet,
I would esteem him worth a dozen such.
But sup them well, and look unto them all;
To-morrow I intend to hunt again.

1 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

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 with warm distilled waters,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet:
Procure me musick 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 bason,

Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers;
Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,

1 Play. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves,

Were he the veriest antick in the world.

Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, And give them friendly welcome every one: Let them want nothing that my house affords. — [Exeunt Servant and Players. Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page.

[To a Servant. 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 hath observ'd in noble ladies

Lord. 'Tis very true; thou didst 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 to-night: 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.

Moderation.

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 despatch'd with all the haste thou canst ;
Anon I'll give thee more instructions.

[Exit Servant. 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 go into extremes.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.- A Bedchamber in the Lord's House.
SLY is discovered in a rich night-gown, with Attend-
ants; some with apparel, others with bason, ewer,
and other appurtenances.
Enter Lord, dressed
like a Servant.

Sly. For heaven's sake, a pot of small ale.
1 Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup
of sack?

2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these conserves?

3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day? Sly. I am Christopher Sly; call not me-honour, nor lordship: I never drank sack in my life; and if you give me any conserves, give me conserves of beef: Ne'er ask me what raiment I'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 over-leather.

Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour !

O, that a mighty man of such descent,
Of such possessions, and so high esteem,
Should be infused with so foul a spirit!

R

Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-heath; by birth a pedler, by education a card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask 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 lyingest knave in Christendom. What, am not bestraught 9; Here's

1 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 house,

As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.
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 musick? hark! Apollo plays,

[Musick.

And twenty caged nightingales do sing:
Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch,
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.

Say, thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground:
Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark: Or wilt thou hunt?
Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them,
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.

1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift

As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.

2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight

Adonis, painted by a running brook :
And Cytherea all in sedges hid;

Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.

3 Serv. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny wood;

Scratching her feet 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 thee,
Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face,
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:-
Upon my life, I am a lord, indeed;
And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly. —
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight:
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.

2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands?

[Servants present an ewer, bason, and napkin.

9 Distracted.

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;
Or, when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept.
Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap.
But did I never speak of all that time?

1 Serv. O, yes, my lord; but very idle words: -
For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of door;
And rail upon the hostess of the house;
And say, you would present her at the leet',
Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts:
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house

3 Serv. Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such maid;

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 an. husband;

I am your wife in all obedience.

Sly. I know it well : — - What must I call her? Lord. Madam.

Sly. Alice madam, or Joan madam?

Lord. Madam, and nothing else; so lords call ladies.

Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd, and slept

Above some fifteen year and more.

Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Your honour's players, hearing your amendment,

Are come to play a pleasant comedy.
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 it: Is not a commonty a Christmas gambol, or a tumblingtrick?