Puslapio vaizdai

And each one to his Office, when he wakes.

[Some bear out Sly. Sound Trumpets.

Sirrah, go fee what trumpet is that founds.

Belike, fome noble gentleman that means, [Ex. Servant. Travelling fome journey, to repofe him here.


Re-enter a Servant.

How now? who is it?

Ser. An't please your Honour, Players
That offer Service to your lordship.
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. Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember, Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son : '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. Lord. 'Tis very true; thou didft it excellent: Well, you are come to me in happy time, The rather for I have fome sport in hand, Wherein your cunning can affift me much.

* It was in those times the cuftom of players to travel in companies, and offer their fervice ' at great houses.

7 I think, 'twas Soto] I take our Author here to be paying a Compliment to Beaumont 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 firft folio has it Sincklo; which, no doubt, was the Name of one of the Players here introduc'd, and who had play'd the Part of Soto with Applaufe. THEOBALD.

B 4


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 fome merry Paffion,
And fo offend him: for I tell you, Sirs,
If you should fmile, he grows impatient.

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

2 Play. [to the other.] Go get a Difhclout to make clean your shoes, and I'll fpeak for the properties. [Exit Player. My lord, we must have a fhoulder of mutton for a property, 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.

[Exit one with the Players.

Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page,
And fee him drest in all fuits like a lady.

That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber,
And call him Madam, do him all obeifance.
Tell him from me, (as he will win my love)
He bear himself with honourable action,

Property, in the language of a play-house, is every implement neceffary to the exhibition.

9 a little Vinegar to make our devil roar.] When the acting the myfteries of the old and new teftament was in vogue; at the reprefentation of the mystery of the Paffion, Judas and the Devil made a part. And the Devil, wherever he came, was always to fuffer fome difgrace, to make the people laugh: As here, the buffonery was to apply the gall and vinegar to make him roar,

And the Paffion being that, of all
the mysteries, which was most
frequently reprefented, vinegar
became at length the standing
implement to torment the De-
vil: And used for this purpose
even after the myfteries ceased,
and the moralities came in vogue;
where the Devil continued to
have a confiderable part.
The mention of it here was to
ridicule fo abfurd a circumstance
in thefe old farces.



Such as he hath obferv'd in noble ladies
Unto their lords, by them accomplish'd;
Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
With foft low tongue, and lowly courtesy;
And fay; what is't your Honour will command,
Wherein your lady and your humble wife,
May fhew her duty, and make known her love?
And then with kind embracements, tempting kiffes,
And with declining head into his bofom,
Bid him shed tears, as being over-joy'd
To see her noble lord restor❜d to health,
Who for twice seven years hath esteem'd himself
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar:
And if the boy have not a woman's gift
To rain a fhower of commanded tears,
An* onion will do well for fuch a shift;
Which in a Napkin being close convey'd,
Shall in defpight enforce a wat❜ry eye.
See this dispatch'd, with all the hafte thou canft;
Anon I'll give thee more inftructions.

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[Exit Servant. I know the boy will well ufurp the grace, Voice, gate, 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 fimple peasant.
I'll in to counsel them: haply, my prefence
May well abate the over-merry spleen ;
Which otherwife will go

into extreams.

In former editions,
Who for thefe Seven Years hath

efteem'd himfeif
No better than a poor and loath-
Jame Begga".]

I have ventur'd to alter a Word here, against the Authority of the printed Copies; and hope, I fhall be juftified in it by two fubfequent Paffages. That the

[Exit Lord.

Poct defign'd, the Tinker's fuppos'd Lunacy fhould be of fourteen Years ftanding at leaf, is evident upon two parallel Passages in the Play to that Parpole.


It is not unlikely that the onion was an expedient ufed by the actors of interludes.



Changes to a Bedchamber in the Lord's Houfe.

Enter Sly with Attendants, fome with apparel, bafor and ewer, and other appurtenances. Re-enter Lord.

Sly. F1 Serv. Will't please your Lordship drink FOR

OR God's fake, a pot of small ale.

a cup of fack?

2 Serv. Will't please your Honour taste of these Conferves?


Serv. What raiment will your Honour wear today?

Sly. I am Chriftophero Sly, call not me Honour, nor Lordship: I ne'er drank fack in my life: and if you give me any Conferves, give me Conferves of beef. Ne'er afk 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, fometimes, more feet than fhoes; or fuch fhoes as my toes look through the over-leather.

Lord. Heav'n ceafe this idle humour in


Oh, that a mighty man of such descent,
Of fuch poffeffions, and fo high efteem,
Should be infused with fo foul a fpirit!-

your Ho

Sly. What, would you make me mad? am not I Christophero Sly, old Sly's Son of Burton-beath, by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by tranfmutation a bearherd, and now by prefent profeffion a tinker? afk Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if the know me not; if fhe fay, I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, fcore me up for the lying'st knave in Christendom. What, I am not beftraught: here's

1 Man.

1 Man. Oh, this it is that makes your lady mourn. 2 Man. Oh, this it is that makes your fervants


Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred fhun your house.

As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.

Oh, noble Lord, bethink thee of thy birth,
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.
Look, how thy fervants do attend on thee;
Each in his office ready at thy beck.

Wilt thou have mufick? hark, Apollo plays; [Mufick.
And twenty caged nightingales do fing.

Or wilt thou fleep? we'll have thee to a couch,
Softer and sweeter than the luftful bed

On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.

Say, thou wilt walk, we will beftrow the ground:
Or wilt thou ride? thy horfes fhall be trapp'd,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Doft thou love hawking? thou haft hawks, will foar
Above the morning lark. Or wilt thou hunt?
Thy hounds fhall make the welkin answer them,
And fetch fhrill echoes from the hollow earth.

1 Man. Say, thou wilt courfe, thy greyhounds are as swift

As breathed ftags; ay, fleeter than the roe.

2 Man. Doft thou love pictures? we will fetch thee ftrait

Adonis, painted by a running brook;

And Citherea all in fedges hid;

Which feem to move and wanton with her breath,

Ev'n as the waving fedges play with wind.

Lord. We'll fhew thee To, as she was a maid,

And how she was beguiled and furpris'd,

As lively painted as the deed was done.

3 Man. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,

Scratching her legs, that one fhall fwear fhe bleeds:


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