Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred fhun your houfe, As beaten hence by your ftrange lunacy. Oh, noble Lord, bethink thee of thy birth, Wilt thou have mufic? hark, Apollo plays; [Mufic. Or wilt thou fleep? we'll have thee to a couch, Say, thou wilt walk, we will beftrow the ground: 1 Man. Say, thou wilt courfe, thy greyhounds are as fwift As breathed flags; ay, fleeter than the roe. 2 Man. Doft thou love pictures? we will fetch thee Adonis, painted by a running brook ; [ftraight And Citherea all in fedges hid; Which feem to move, and wanton with her breath, Ev'n as the waving fedges play with wind. 3 Man. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, Scratching her legs, that one fhall fwear fhe bleeds: And at that fight fhall fad Apollo weep: So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord: Thou haft a lady far more beautiful Than any woman in this waining age, 1 Man. And 'till the tears, that she hath fhed for thee, Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face, Sly. Am I a Lord, and have I such a Lady? I fmell fweet favours, and I feel foft things: 2 Man. Will't please your Mightiness to wash your hands? Oh, how we joy to see your wits reflor'd! 1 Man. Oh, yes, my Lord, but very idle words. 3 Man. Why, Sir, you know no house; nor no fuch maid; Nor no fuch men, as you have reckon'd up; And twenty more fuch names and men as these, Sly. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends! All. All. Amen Sly. By th' Mafs, I think I am a Lord indeed. What is thy name? Man. Sim, an't please your Honour. Sly. Sim? that's as much as to fay, Simeon or Si. mon, put forth thy hand and fill the pot. [The fervant gives him drink. Enter Lady, with Attendants. I thank thee;thou shalt not lose by it. Sly. Marry, I fare well, for here is cheer enough. Where's my wife? Lady. Here, noble Lord, what is thy will with her? Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me hufband?. My men fhould call me lord, I am your good man. Lady. My husband and my lord, my Lord and husband; I am your wife in all obedience. Sly. I know it well: what muft I call her? Lord. Madam. Sly. Alce madam, or Joan madam? Lord. Madam, and nothing else, so lords call ladies. Sly. Come, fit down on my knee. Sim, drink to her. Madam wife, they say, that I have dream'd, and flept above fome fifteen years and more. Lady. 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. Sim, drink to her. Lady. Thrice-noble Lord, let me entreat of you, To pardon me yet for a night or two: Or, if not fo, until the fun be fet; For For your Physicians have exprefly charg'd, Sly. Ay, it ftands fo, that I may hardly tarry fo long; but I would be loath to fall into my dream again: I will therefore tarry in defpight of the flesh . and the blood. SCENE VI. Mess. YOUR Enter a Messenger. OUR Honour's Players, hearing your amendment, Are come to play a pleasant Comedy; For fo your doctors hold it very meet, Seeing too much fadness hath congeal'd your blood; And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy. Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play, And frame your mind to mirth and merriment; Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life. Sly. Marry, I will; let them play; is it not a Commodity? a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick? Lady. No, my good Lord, it is more pleafing ftuff. Sly. What, houfhold ftuff? Lady. It is a kind of hiftory. Sly. Well, we'll fee't: come, Madam wife, fit by my fide, and let the world flip, we shall ne'er be younger. THE TRANIO, fince for the great defire I had And, by my father's love and leave, am arm'd Gave me my Being; and my father firft, Vincentio his fon, brought up in Florence, And |