Enter aloft the drunkard [SLY] with
           ATTENDANTS; some with apparel,
           basin and ewer, and other appurtenances;
           and LORD.

      SLY
  1   For God's sake, a pot of small ale.

      First Servant
  2   Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack?

      Second Servant
  3   Will't please your honor taste of these conserves?

      Third Servant
  4   What raiment will your honor wear today?

      SLY
  5   I am Christophero Sly; call not me "honor" nor
  6   "lordship." I ne'er drank sack in my life; and if
  7   you give me any conserves, give me conserves of
  8   beef: ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for I
  9   have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings
 10   than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay,
 11   sometimes more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my
 12   toes look through the over-leather.

      Lord
 13   Heaven cease this idle humor in your honor!
 14   O, that a mighty man of such descent,
 15   Of such possessions and so high esteem,
 16   Should be infused with so foul a spirit!

      SLY
 17   What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher
 18   Sly, old Sly's son of Burtonheath, by birth a
 19   pedlar, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a
 20   bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker?
 21   Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if
 22   she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence
 23   on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the
 24   lyingest knave in Christendom. What! I am not
 25   bestraught: here's—

      Third Servant
 26   O, this it is that makes your lady mourn!

      Second Servant
 27   O, this is it that makes your servants droop!

      Lord
 28   Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,
 29   As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.
 30   O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth,
 31   Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment
 32   And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.
 33   Look how thy servants do attend on thee,
 34   Each in his office ready at thy beck.
 35   Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays,

           Music.

      First Servant
 47   Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift
 48   As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.

      Second Servant
 49   Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight
 50   Adonis painted by a running brook,
 51   And Cytherea all in sedges hid,
 52   Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
 53   Even as the waving sedges play with wind.

      Lord
 54   We'll show thee Io as she was a maid,
 55   And how she was beguiled and surprised,
 56   As lively painted as the deed was done.

      Third Servant
 57   Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,
 58   Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds,
 59   And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
 60   So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.

      Lord
 61   Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:
 62   Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
 63   Than any woman in this waning age.

      First Servant
 64   And till the tears that she hath shed for thee
 65   Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face,
 66   She was the fairest creature in the world;
 67   And yet she is inferior to none.

      SLY
 68   Am I a lord? and have I such a lady?
 69   Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now?
 70   I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak;
 71   I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things:
 72   Upon my life, I am a lord indeed
 73   And not a tinker nor Christophero Sly.
 74   Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;
 75   And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.

      Second Servant
 76   Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands?
 77   O, how we joy to see your wit restored!
 78   O, that once more you knew but what you are!
 79   These fifteen years you have been in a dream;
 80   Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept.

      SLY
 81   These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap.
 82   But did I never speak of all that time?

      First Servant
 83   O, yes, my lord, but very idle words:
 84   For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
 85   Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door;
 86   And rail upon the hostess of the house;
 87   And say you would present her at the leet,
 88   Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts:
 89   Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.

      SLY
 90   Ay, the woman's maid of the house.

      Third Servant
 91   Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid,
 92   Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up,
 93   As Stephen Sly and old John Naps of Greece
 94   And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell
 95   And twenty more such names and men as these
 96   Which never were nor no man ever saw.

      SLY
 97   Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!

      ALL
 98   Amen.

      SLY
 99   I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it.

           Enter [the PAGE as a] lady,
           with ATTENDANTS.

      Page
100   How fares my noble lord?

      SLY
101   Marry, I fare well for here is cheer enough.
102   Where is my wife?

      Page
103   Here, noble lord: what is thy will with her?

      SLY
104   Are you my wife and will not call me husband?
105   My men should call me "lord." I am your goodman.

      Page
106   My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;
107   I am your wife in all obedience.

      SLY
108   I know it well. What must I call her?

      Lord
109   Madam.

      SLY
110   Al'ce madam, or Joan madam?

      Lord
111   Madam, and nothing else: so lords call ladies.

      SLY
112   Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd
113   And slept above some fifteen year or more.

      Page
114   Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,
115   Being all this time abandon'd from your bed.

      SLY
116   'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone.
117   Madam, undress you and come now to bed.

      Page
118   Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you
119   To pardon me yet for a night or two,
120   Or, if not so, until the sun be set:
121   For your physicians have expressly charged,
122   In peril to incur your former malady,
123   That I should yet absent me from your bed:
124   I hope this reason stands for my excuse.

      SLY
125   Ay, it stands so that I may hardly
126   tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into
127   my dreams again: I will therefore tarry in
128   despite of the flesh and the blood.

           Enter a Messenger.

      Messenger
129   Your honor's players, hearing your amendment,
130   Are come to play a pleasant comedy;
131   For so your doctors hold it very meet,
132   Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood,
133   And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy:
134   Therefore they thought it good you hear a play
135   And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
136   Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.

      SLY
137   Marry, I will, let them play it. Is not a
138   comonty a Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick?

      Page
139   No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff.

      SLY
140   What, household stuff?

      Page
141   It is a kind of history.

      SLY
142   Well, well see't. Come, madam wife, sit by
143   my side and let the world slip: we shall ne'er
144   be younger.

***        Flourish.