it you?

Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy

it.

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 knows himself, my bed he hath defil'd;
And at that time he got his wife with child:

kick; So there's my riddle, One, that's dead, is quick : And now behold the meaning.

Re-enter Widow, with HELENA.

King. Is there no exorcist
Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes?
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.

King. Let us from point to point this story know,

To make the even truth in pleasure flow :-
If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower,
[To Diana.
Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower;
For I can guess, that, by thy honest aid,
Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.-
Of that, and all the progress, more and less,
Resolvedly more leisure shall express :
All yet seems well, and if it end so meet,
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
[Flourish.

Advancing.

The king's a beggar, now the play is done:
All is well ended, if the suit be won,
That you express content: which we will pay,
With strife to please you, day exceeding day:
Ours be your patience then, and yours our parts;
Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts.
[Exeunt.

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.

[Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep.

Wind horns. Enter a Lord from hunting, with Huntsmen and Servants.

Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds:

Brach Merriman, -the poor cur is emboss'd, 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, e, 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 fleet,
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 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 fingers,

A most delicious banquet by his bed, 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:
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 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, Wilt please your lordship cool your
hands?

Some one 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 hath 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.

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

Were he the veriest antic 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 cham

ber,

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 Unto their lords, by them accomplished: Such duty to the drunkard let him do, With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy;

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.

Wherein your lady, and your humble wife, May show her duty, and make known her love? And then-with kind embracements, tempting

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 Christophero Sly; call not mehonour, 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 overleather.

Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour!

0, 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 Burtonheath; 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 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, I am not bestraught: Here's

1 Serv. O, this it is, that makes your lady

mourn.

2 Serv. O, this it is, that makes your servants droop.

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.

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

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

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 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, basin, 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;
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.
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 mehusband?

My men should call me-lord; I am your good

man.

Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;

I am your wife in all obedience.

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

Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam ?

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, 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.
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.

Sly. Marry, I will; let them play it: Is 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,

ladies.

ne'er be younger.

[They sit down.

SCENE I.-Padua. A public place.

Enter LUCENTIO and TRANIO.

To see fair Padua, nursery of arts, I am arriv'd for fruitful Lombardy, 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,

A merchant of great traffic through the world,
Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii.
Vincentio his son, brought up in Florence,
It shall become, to serve all hopes conceiv'd,
To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds :