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Gent. And you!
Hel. Sir, I have seen you in the court of France.
Gent. I have been sometimes there.

Hel. I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen From the report, that goes upon your goodness; And therefore, goaded with most sharp occasions, Which lay nice manners by, I put you to

The use of your own virtues, for the which
I shall continue thankful.

Gent. What's your will?

Hel. That it will please you

To give this poor petition to the king,

And aid me with that store of power you have,
To come into his presence.

Gent. The king's not here.
Hel. Not here, sir?

Gent. Not, indeed:

He hence remov'd last night, and with more haste,
Than is his use.

Wid. Lord, how we lose our pains!
Hel. All's well that ends well, yet,

Though time seem so adverse, and means unfit.-
I do beseech you, whither has he gone?
Gent. Marry, as I take it, to Rousillon;
Whither I am going.

Hel, I do beseech you, sir,

Since you are like to see the king before me,
Commend the paper to his gracious hand;
Which, I presume, shall render you no blame,
But rather make you thank your pains for it:
I will come after you, with what good speed
Our means will make us means.
Gent. This I'll do for you.

Let the justices make you and fortune friends; I am for
other business.

Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd, Whate'er falls more.-We must to horse again;Go, go, provide.

[Exeunt.

Par. I beseech your honour, to hear me one single word.

Laf. You beg a single penny more: come, you shall
ha't; save your word.

Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles.
Laf. You beg more than one word then.-Cox' my
passion! give me your hand - How does your drum?
Par. O my good lord, you were the first that found me.
Laf. Was 1,in sooth? and I was the first that lost thee.
Par. It lies in you, my lord, to bring me in some
grace, for you did bring me out.

Laf. Out upon thee, knave! dost thou put upon me
at once both the office of God and the devil? one brings
thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. [Trum-
pets sound.] The king's coming, I know by his trum-
pets. Sirrah, inquire further after me; I had talk
of you last night: though you are a fool and a knave,
you shall eat; go to, fellow.

Par. I praise God for you.

[Exeunt.

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And I beseech your majesty to make it
Natural rebellion, done i'the blaze of youth,
When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
O'erbears it, and burns on.
King. My honour'd lady,

I have forgiven and forgotten all;

SCENE II.—Rousillon. The inner court of the Coun-Though my revenges were high bent upon him,

tess's palace.

Enter Clown and PAROLLES.

Pur. Good monsieur Lavatch, give my lord Lafen this letter: I have ere now, sir, been better known to you, when I have held familiarity with fresher clothes; but I am now, sir, muddied in fortune's moat, and smell somewhat strong of her strong displeasure. Clo. Truly, fortune's displeasure is but sluttish, if it smell so strong as thou speakest of: I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's buttering. Pr'ythee, allow the wind.

Par. Nay, you need not stop your nose, sir; I spake but by a metaphor.

Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I will stop my nose; or against any man's metaphor. Pr'ythee, get thee further!

Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper!

Clo. Foh, pr'ythee, stand away! A paper from fortune's close-stool to give to a nobleman! Look, here he comes himself.

Enter LAFEu.

Here is a pur of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's cat, (but not a musk-cat,) that has fallen into the unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and, as he says, is muddied withal. Pray you, sir, use the carp as you may; for he looks likea poor, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally knave. I do pity his distress in my smiles of comfort, and leave him to your lordship. [Exit Clown. Par. My lord, I am a man, whom fortune hath cruelly scratched.

Luf. And what would you have me to do? 'tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the kuave with fortune, that she should scratch you, who of herself is a good lady, and would not have knaves thrive long under her? There's a quart d'ecu for you.

And watch'd the time to shoot. Laf. This I must say,

But first I beg my pardon. The young lord
Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady,
Offence of mighty note; but to himself
The greatest wrong of all: he lost a wife,
Whose beauty did astonish the survey
Of richest eyes, whose words all ears took captive,
Whose dear perfection, hearts, that scorn'd to serve,
Humbly call'd mistress.

King. Praising what is lost,
Makes the remembrance dear.-Well, call him hither!-
We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
All repetition. Let him not ask our pardon!
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper than oblivion do we bury
The incensing relics of it: let him approach,
A stranger, no offender; and inform him,
So 'tis our will he should!
Gent. I shall, my liege.
[Exit Gentleman.
King. What says he to your daughter? have you
spoke?

Laf. All that he is hath reference to your highness. King. Then shall we have a match. I have letters That set him high in fame.

sent me,

Enter BERTRAM. Laf. He looks well on't. King. I am not a day of season, For thou may'st see a sun-shine and a hail In me at once: but to the brightest beams Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth, The time is fair again.

Ber. My high-repented blames, Dear sovereign, pardon to me!

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King. All is whole;

Not one word more of the consumed time!
Let's take the instant by the forward top;

For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
The inaudible and noiseless foot of time

Steals, ere we can effect them. You remember
The daughter of this lord?

Ber. Admiringly, my liege: at first
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herald of my tongue:
Where the impression of mine eye infixing,
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me,
Which warp'd the line of every other favour;
Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stoľ❜n,
Extended or contracted all proportions,
To a most hideous object. Thence it came,

That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom myself,
Since I have lost, have lov'd, was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it.

King. Well excus'd!

That thou didst love her, strikes some scores away

Hath not in nature's mystery more science,
Than I have in this ring: 'twas mine, 'twas Helen's,
Whoever gave it you. Then, if you know
That you are well acquainted with yourself,
Confess 'twas hers, and by what rough enforcement
You got it from her; she call'd the saints to surety,
That she would never put it from her finger,
Unless she gave it to yourself in bed,
(Where you have never come,) or sent it us
Upon her great disaster.

Ber. She never saw it.

--

King.Thou speak'st it falsely, as I love mine honour, And mak'st conjectural fears to come into me, Which I would fain shut out. If it should prove That thou art so inhuman, - 'twill not prove so ; And yet I know not: — thou didst hate her deadly, And she is dead; which nothing, but to close Her eyes myself, could win me to believe, More than to see this ring. Take him away![Guards seize Bertram. My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall,

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From the great compt. But love, that comes too late,Shall tax my fears of little vanity,

Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,
To the great sender turns a sour offence,

Crying, That's good, that's gone: our rash faults
Make trivial price of serious things we have,
Not knowing them, until we know their grave:
Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust,
Destroy our friends, and after weep their dust:
Our own love waking cries to see what's done,
While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon.
Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget her!
Send forth your amorous token for fair Maudlin:
The main consents are had; and here we'll stay
To see our widower's second marriage-day.
Count. Which better thau the first, O dear heaven,
bless!

Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease!
Laf. Come on, my son, in whom my house's name
Must be digested, give a favour from you,
To sparkle in the spirits of my daughter,
That she may quickly come. — By my old beard,
And every hair that's ou't, Helen, that's dead,
Was a sweet creature: such a ring as this,
The last that e'er I took her leave at court,

I saw upon her finger.

Ber. Her's it was not.

King. Now, pray you, let me see it; for mine eye, While I was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't. This ring was mine; and, when I gave it Helen, I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood Necessitied to help, that by this token

I would relieve her. Had yon that craft, to reave her

Of what should stead her most?

Ber. My gracious sovereign,

Howe'er it pleases you to take it so,

The ring was never her's.

Count. Son, on my life,

I have seen her wearit; and she reckoned it

At her life's rate.

Laf. I am sure, I saw her wear it.

Ber. You are deceiv'd, my lord, she never saw it: In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, Wrapp'd in a paper, which contaiu'd the name Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought I stood engag'd: but when I had subscrib'd To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully, I could not answer in that course of honour, As she had made the overture, she ceas'd, In heavy satisfaction, and would never Receive the ring again.

King. Plutus himself,

That knows the tinct and multiplying medicine,

Having vainly fear'd too little.-Away with him! We'll sift this matter further.

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King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings.
Gent. Gracious sovereign,

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, 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 importing 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 front Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to his country for justice. Grant it me, 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.

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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 a fear'd, 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 desire to marry.

you

What woman's that?

Re-enter Gentleman, with Widow, and Diana. Dia. I am, my lord, a wretched Florentine, Derived from the ancient Capulet;

My suit, as I do understand, you know,

And therefore know, how far I may be pitied.

Wid. I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour

Both suffer under this complaint, we bring,

And both shall cease, without your remedy.

King.Come hither, count! Do you know these women?
Ber. My lord, I neither can nor will deny

But that I know them. Do they charge me further?

Dia. Why do you look so strange upon your wife? Ber. She's none of mine, my lord.

Dia. If you shall marry,

You give away this hand, and that is mine;

You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine;
You give away myself, which is known mine;
For I by vow am so embodied yours,

That she, which marries you, must marry me,
Either both, or none.

Laf. Your reputation [To Bertram] comes too short
for my daughter, you are no husband for her.
Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature,
Whom sometime I have laugh'd with:let your highness
Lay a more noble thought upon mine honour,
Than for to think,that I would sink it here!
King, Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to
friend,

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Dia. Good my lord,

Ask him, upon his oath, ifhe 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'dand debosh'd;
Whose nature sickens but so 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, And boarded her i'the wanton way of youth: She knew her distance, and did angle for me, Madding my eagerness with her restraint, As all impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine, Her insuit coming with her modern grace, Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring; And I had that, which any inferior might At market-price have bought.

Dia. Imust be patient;

You that turn'd off a first so noble wife,
May justly diet me. I pray you yet,

(Since you lack vírtue, 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. Sir, much like

The same upon your finger.

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you.

Is this the man you speak of?
Dia. Ay, my lord.

King. Tell me, sirrah, but, tell me true, I charge you, 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?

Par.Hedid love her,sir,as a gentleman loves a 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 oflimbo, 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?

King. Know you this ring? this ring was his of late.
Dia. And this was it I gave him, being a-bed.
King. The story then goes false, you threw it him

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?

Dia. I found it not.

King. If it were yours by none of all these ways, How could you give it him?

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 had'st this ring,
Thou diest within this hour.

Dia. I'll never tell 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.

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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:
Dead though she be; she feels her young one 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 oflice 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, etc.-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
we will p
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.

.

A Lord.

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CHRISTOPHER SLY, a drunken tinker.
Hostess, Page, Players, Huntsmen, and
other Servants attending on the Lord.)
BAPTISTA, arich gentleman of Padua.
VINCENTIO, an old gentleman of Pisa.
LUCENTIO, son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca.
PETRUCHIO,
a gentleman of Verona, a suitor to Ca-

tharina. GREMIO,

HORTENSIO,

suitors to Bianca.

servants to Petruchio.

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CATHARINA, the Shrew, daughters to Baptista.
BIANCA, her sister,

Widow.

Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on
Baptista and Petruchio.

SCENE,- Sometimes in Padua; and sometimes in Petruchio's house in the country.

INDUCTION.

SCENE I.-Before an ale-house on a heath.
Enter Hostess and SLY.

Sly. I'll pheese you, in faith.

Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue!

Sly. Y'are a baggage; the Slies are no rogues! Look in the chronicles, we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore, paucas pallabris; let the world slide:

Sessa!

Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? Sly. No, not a denier. Go by, says Jeronimy; Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. Host. I know my remedy, I must go fetch the thirdborough.

Windhorns.Enter a Lord from hunting,with Hunts-
men and Servants,

Lord. Huntsman,I charge thee,tender well my hounds:
Brach Merriman,-the poor cur is emboss'd,
Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach!
At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault?
would not lose the dog for twenty pound.

I

He cried upon it at the merest loss, 1 Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent: Lord. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fleet, Trust me, I take him for the better dog. Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer But sup them well, and look unto them all!' [Exit. I would esteem him worth a dozen such. him by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy; let him come, To-morrow I intend to hunt again. and kindly.[Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep. 1 Hun. I will, my lord.

Lord. What's here; one dead, or drunk? See, doth | Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour, 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,

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 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 say, Wil'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.

1 Ilun. My lord, I warrant you, we'll 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!

And then-with kind embracements, tempting kisses,
And with declining head into his bosom,-
Bid him shed tears, as being overjoyed
To see her noble lord restor'd to health,
Who, for twice seven years, hath esteem'd 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.

[Some bear out Sly. 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 a Servant.

How now? who is it?

Serv. An it please your honour,
Players, that offer service to your lordship.
Lord. Bid them come near!

Enter Players.
Now, fellows, you are welcome.
1 Play. We thank your honour.

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 grow into extremes. [Exeunt.

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 so well:
I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd.

1 Play. 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 to-night:
But I am doubtful of your modesties;

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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 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

overleather.

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!

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?

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