LITMIR.BIZ

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[ Sees Sly.] What’s here? One dead, or drunk?

       See, doth 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 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?

      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 rosewater and bestrew’d with flowers;

       Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,

       And say ‘Will’t 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.

      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.

       [SLY is bourne out. A trumpet sounds.]

      Sirrah, go see what trumpet ‘tis that sounds:

      [Exit SERVANT.]

      Belike some noble gentleman that means,

       Travelling some journey, to repose him here.

       [Re-enter SERVANT.]

      How now! who is it?

      SERVANT.

       An it please your honour, players

       That offer service to your lordship.

      LORD.

       Bid them come near.

       [Enter PLAYERS.]

      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;

       ‘Twas 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 ‘twas Soto that your honour means.

      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 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, sirrah, take them to the buttery,

       And give them friendly welcome every one:

       Let them want nothing that my house affords.

       [Exit one with the PLAYERS.]

      Sirrah, 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 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,

       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 hath 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.

      

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