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Original Text |
Modern Text |
Enter aloft SLY , the drunkard, with Attendants, some with apparel, others with basin and ewer and other appurtenances, and LORD dressed as an attendant.
|
Enter aloft SLY , the drunkard, with Attendants, some with apparel, others with basin and ewer and other appurtenances, and LORD dressed as an attendant.
|
SLY For God’s sake, a pot of small ale.
|
SLY For God’s sake, a pot of small ale.
|
FIRST SERVANT Will ’t please your Lordship drink a cup of sack?
|
FIRST SERVANT Will ’t please your Lordship drink a cup of sack?
|
SECOND SERVANT Will ’t please your Honor taste of these conserves?
|
SECOND SERVANT Will ’t please your Honor taste of these conserves?
|
THIRD SERVANT What raiment will your Honor wear today?
|
THIRD SERVANT What raiment will your Honor wear today?
|
SLY 5I am Christophero Sly. Call not me “Honor” nor “Lordship.” I ne'er drank sack in my life. An 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 sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the over-leather.
|
SLY I am Christophero Sly. Call not me “Honor” nor “Lordship.” I ne'er drank sack in my life. An 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 sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the over-leather.
|
LORD Heaven cease this idle humor in your Honor!
Oh, that a mighty man of such descent,
Of such possessions and so high esteem,
Should be infusèd with so foul a spirit!
|
LORD Heaven cease this idle humor in your Honor!
Oh, that a mighty man of such descent,
Of such possessions and so high esteem,
Should be infusèd with so foul a spirit!
|
SLY 10What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly’s son of Burton Heath, by birth a peddler, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a bearherd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat alewife of Wincot, if she know me not! If she say I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the lying’st knave in Christendom. What! I am not bestraught! Here’s—
|
SLY What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly’s son of Burton Heath, by birth a peddler, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a bearherd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat alewife of Wincot, if she know me not! If she say I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the lying’st knave in Christendom. What! I am not bestraught! Here’s—
|
THIRD SERVANT Oh, this it is that makes your lady mourn!
|
THIRD SERVANT Oh, this it is that makes your lady mourn!
|
SECOND SERVANT Oh, this is it that makes your servants droop!
|
SECOND SERVANT Oh, this is it that makes your servants droop!
|
LORD Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,
As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.
15 O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth,
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.
Look how thy servants do attend on thee,
Each in his office ready at thy beck.
20 Wilt thou have music? Hark! Apollo plays,
|
LORD Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,
As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.
O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth,
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.
Look how thy servants do attend on thee,
Each in his office ready at thy beck.
Wilt thou have music? Hark! Apollo plays,
|
Music
|
Music
|
And twenty cagèd nightingales do sing:
Or wilt thou sleep? We’ll have thee to a couch
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
On purpose trimmed up for Semiramis.
25 Say thou wilt walk, we will bestrew the ground.
Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shall be trapped,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark. Or wilt thou hunt?
30 Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.
|
And twenty cagèd nightingales do sing:
Or wilt thou sleep? We’ll have thee to a couch
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
On purpose trimmed up for Semiramis.
Say thou wilt walk, we will bestrew the ground.
Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shall be trapped,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark. Or wilt thou hunt?
Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.
|
FIRST SERVANT Say thou wilt course. Thy greyhounds are as swift
As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.
|
FIRST SERVANT Say thou wilt course. Thy greyhounds are as swift
As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.
|
SECOND SERVANT Dost thou love pictures? We will fetch thee straight
35 Adonis painted by a running brook
And Cytherea all in sedges hid,
Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.
|
SECOND SERVANT Dost thou love pictures? We will fetch thee straight
Adonis painted by a running brook
And Cytherea all in sedges hid,
Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.
|
LORD We’ll show thee Io as she was a maid
40 And how she was beguileèd and surprised,
As lively painted as the deed was done.
|
LORD We’ll show thee Io as she was a maid
And how she was beguileèd and surprised,
As lively painted as the deed was done.
|
THIRD SERVANT Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,
Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds,
And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
45 So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.
|
THIRD SERVANT Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,
Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds,
And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.
|
LORD Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord.
Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waning age.
|
LORD Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord.
Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waning age.
|
FIRST SERVANT And till the tears that she hath shed for thee
50 Like envious floods o'errun her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world—
And yet she is inferior to none.
|
FIRST SERVANT And till the tears that she hath shed for thee
Like envious floods o'errun her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world—
And yet she is inferior to none.
|
SLY Am I a lord, and have I such a lady?
Or do I dream? Or have I dreamed till now?
55 I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak.
I smell sweet savors and I feel soft things.
Upon my life, I am a lord indeed
And not a tinker, nor Christopher Sly.
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight,
60 And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.
|
SLY Am I a lord, and have I such a lady?
Or do I dream? Or have I dreamed till now?
I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak.
I smell sweet savors and I feel soft things.
Upon my life, I am a lord indeed
And not a tinker, nor Christopher Sly.
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight,
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.
|
SECOND SERVANT Will ’t please your Mightiness to wash your hands?
O, how we joy to see your wit restored!
O, that once more you knew but what you are!
These fifteen years you have been in a dream
65 Or, when you waked, so waked as if you slept.
|
SECOND SERVANT Will ’t please your Mightiness to wash your hands?
O, how we joy to see your wit restored!
O, that once more you knew but what you are!
These fifteen years you have been in a dream
Or, when you waked, so waked as if you slept.
|
SLY These fifteen years! By my fay, a goodly nap.
But did I never speak of all that time?
|
SLY These fifteen years! By my fay, a goodly nap.
But did I never speak of all that time?
|
FIRST SERVANT O, yes, my lord, but very idle words.
For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
70 Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door;
And rail upon the hostess of the house,
And say you would present her at the leet,
Because she brought stone jugs and no sealed quarts.
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
|
FIRST SERVANT O, yes, my lord, but very idle words.
For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door;
And rail upon the hostess of the house,
And say you would present her at the leet,
Because she brought stone jugs and no sealed quarts.
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
|
SLY 75 Ay, the woman’s maid of the house.
|
SLY Ay, the woman’s maid of the house.
|
THIRD SERVANT Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid,
Nor no such men as you have reckoned up,
As Stephen Sly and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell,
80 And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.
|
THIRD SERVANT Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid,
Nor no such men as you have reckoned up,
As Stephen Sly and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell,
And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.
|
SLY Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!
|
SLY Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!
|
ALL Amen.
|
ALL Amen.
|
SLY I thank thee. Thou shalt not lose by it.
|
SLY I thank thee. Thou shalt not lose by it.
|
Enter the PAGE as a lady, with attendants
|
Enter the PAGE as a lady, with attendants
|
PAGE 85 How fares my noble lord?
|
PAGE How fares my noble lord?
|
SLY Marry, I fare well,
For here is cheer enough. Where is my wife?
|
SLY Marry, I fare well,
For here is cheer enough. Where is my wife?
|
PAGE Here, noble lord. What is thy will with her?
|
PAGE Here, noble lord. What is thy will with her?
|
SLY Are you my wife and will not call me “husband”?
My men should call me “lord.” I am your goodman.
|
SLY Are you my wife and will not call me “husband”?
My men should call me “lord.” I am your goodman.
|
PAGE 90 My husband and my lord, my lord and husband,
I am your wife in all obedience.
|
PAGE My husband and my lord, my lord and husband,
I am your wife in all obedience.
|
SLY I know it well.—What must I call her?
|
SLY I know it well.—What must I call her?
|
LORD “Madam.”
|
LORD “Madam.”
|
SLY “Alice Madam,” or “Joan Madam”?
|
SLY “Alice Madam,” or “Joan Madam”?
|
LORD “Madam,” and nothing else. So lords call ladies.
|
LORD “Madam,” and nothing else. So lords call ladies.
|
SLY 95 Madam wife, they say that I have dreamed
And slept above some fifteen year or more.
|
SLY Madam wife, they say that I have dreamed
And slept above some fifteen year or more.
|
PAGE Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,
Being all this time abandoned from your bed.
|
PAGE Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,
Being all this time abandoned from your bed.
|
SLY 'Tis much.—Servants, leave me and her alone.
100 Madam, undress you and come now to bed.
|
SLY 'Tis much.—Servants, leave me and her alone.
Madam, undress you and come now to bed.
|
PAGE Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you
To pardon me yet for a night or two,
Or if not so, until the sun be set.
For your physicians have expressly charged,
105 In peril to incur your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed.
I hope this reason stands for my excuse.
|
PAGE Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you
To pardon me yet for a night or two,
Or if not so, until the sun be set.
For your physicians have expressly charged,
In peril to incur your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed.
I hope this reason stands for my excuse.
|
SLY Ay, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into my dreams again. I will therefore tarry in despite of the flesh and the blood.
|
SLY Ay, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into my dreams again. I will therefore tarry in despite of the flesh and the blood.
|
Enter a MESSENGER
|
Enter a MESSENGER
|
MESSENGER Your Honor’s players, hearing your amendment,
110 Are come to play a pleasant comedy,
For so your doctors hold it very meet,
Seeing too much sadness hath congealed your blood,
And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.
Therefore they thought it good you hear a play
115 And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.
|
MESSENGER Your Honor’s players, hearing your amendment,
Are come to play a pleasant comedy,
For so your doctors hold it very meet,
Seeing too much sadness hath congealed 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 it. Is not a comonty a
Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick?
|
SLY Marry, I will. Let them play it. Is not a comonty a
Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick?
|
PAGE No, my good lord, it is more pleasing stuff.
|
PAGE No, my good lord, it is more pleasing stuff.
|
SLY 120 What, household stuff?
|
SLY What, household stuff?
|
PAGE It is a kind of history.
|
PAGE It is a kind of history.
|
SLY Well, we’ll see ’t. Come, madam wife, sit by my side and let the world slip. We shall ne'er be younger.
|
SLY Well, we’ll see ’t. Come, madam wife, sit by my side and let the world slip. We shall ne'er be younger.
|
They sit
|
They sit
|
Original Text |
Modern Text |
Enter aloft SLY , the drunkard, with Attendants, some with apparel, others with basin and ewer and other appurtenances, and LORD dressed as an attendant.
|
Enter aloft SLY , the drunkard, with Attendants, some with apparel, others with basin and ewer and other appurtenances, and LORD dressed as an attendant.
|
SLY For God’s sake, a pot of small ale.
|
SLY For God’s sake, a pot of small ale.
|
FIRST SERVANT Will ’t please your Lordship drink a cup of sack?
|
FIRST SERVANT Will ’t please your Lordship drink a cup of sack?
|
SECOND SERVANT Will ’t please your Honor taste of these conserves?
|
SECOND SERVANT Will ’t please your Honor taste of these conserves?
|
THIRD SERVANT What raiment will your Honor wear today?
|
THIRD SERVANT What raiment will your Honor wear today?
|
SLY 5I am Christophero Sly. Call not me “Honor” nor “Lordship.” I ne'er drank sack in my life. An 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 sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the over-leather.
|
SLY I am Christophero Sly. Call not me “Honor” nor “Lordship.” I ne'er drank sack in my life. An 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 sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the over-leather.
|
LORD Heaven cease this idle humor in your Honor!
Oh, that a mighty man of such descent,
Of such possessions and so high esteem,
Should be infusèd with so foul a spirit!
|
LORD Heaven cease this idle humor in your Honor!
Oh, that a mighty man of such descent,
Of such possessions and so high esteem,
Should be infusèd with so foul a spirit!
|
SLY 10What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly’s son of Burton Heath, by birth a peddler, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a bearherd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat alewife of Wincot, if she know me not! If she say I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the lying’st knave in Christendom. What! I am not bestraught! Here’s—
|
SLY What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly’s son of Burton Heath, by birth a peddler, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a bearherd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat alewife of Wincot, if she know me not! If she say I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the lying’st knave in Christendom. What! I am not bestraught! Here’s—
|
THIRD SERVANT Oh, this it is that makes your lady mourn!
|
THIRD SERVANT Oh, this it is that makes your lady mourn!
|
SECOND SERVANT Oh, this is it that makes your servants droop!
|
SECOND SERVANT Oh, this is it that makes your servants droop!
|
LORD Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,
As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.
15 O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth,
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.
Look how thy servants do attend on thee,
Each in his office ready at thy beck.
20 Wilt thou have music? Hark! Apollo plays,
|
LORD Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,
As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.
O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth,
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.
Look how thy servants do attend on thee,
Each in his office ready at thy beck.
Wilt thou have music? Hark! Apollo plays,
|
Music
|
Music
|
And twenty cagèd nightingales do sing:
Or wilt thou sleep? We’ll have thee to a couch
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
On purpose trimmed up for Semiramis.
25 Say thou wilt walk, we will bestrew the ground.
Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shall be trapped,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark. Or wilt thou hunt?
30 Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.
|
And twenty cagèd nightingales do sing:
Or wilt thou sleep? We’ll have thee to a couch
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
On purpose trimmed up for Semiramis.
Say thou wilt walk, we will bestrew the ground.
Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shall be trapped,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark. Or wilt thou hunt?
Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.
|
FIRST SERVANT Say thou wilt course. Thy greyhounds are as swift
As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.
|
FIRST SERVANT Say thou wilt course. Thy greyhounds are as swift
As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.
|
SECOND SERVANT Dost thou love pictures? We will fetch thee straight
35 Adonis painted by a running brook
And Cytherea all in sedges hid,
Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.
|
SECOND SERVANT Dost thou love pictures? We will fetch thee straight
Adonis painted by a running brook
And Cytherea all in sedges hid,
Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.
|
LORD We’ll show thee Io as she was a maid
40 And how she was beguileèd and surprised,
As lively painted as the deed was done.
|
LORD We’ll show thee Io as she was a maid
And how she was beguileèd and surprised,
As lively painted as the deed was done.
|
THIRD SERVANT Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,
Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds,
And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
45 So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.
|
THIRD SERVANT Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,
Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds,
And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.
|
LORD Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord.
Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waning age.
|
LORD Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord.
Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waning age.
|
FIRST SERVANT And till the tears that she hath shed for thee
50 Like envious floods o'errun her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world—
And yet she is inferior to none.
|
FIRST SERVANT And till the tears that she hath shed for thee
Like envious floods o'errun her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world—
And yet she is inferior to none.
|
SLY Am I a lord, and have I such a lady?
Or do I dream? Or have I dreamed till now?
55 I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak.
I smell sweet savors and I feel soft things.
Upon my life, I am a lord indeed
And not a tinker, nor Christopher Sly.
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight,
60 And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.
|
SLY Am I a lord, and have I such a lady?
Or do I dream? Or have I dreamed till now?
I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak.
I smell sweet savors and I feel soft things.
Upon my life, I am a lord indeed
And not a tinker, nor Christopher Sly.
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight,
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.
|
SECOND SERVANT Will ’t please your Mightiness to wash your hands?
O, how we joy to see your wit restored!
O, that once more you knew but what you are!
These fifteen years you have been in a dream
65 Or, when you waked, so waked as if you slept.
|
SECOND SERVANT Will ’t please your Mightiness to wash your hands?
O, how we joy to see your wit restored!
O, that once more you knew but what you are!
These fifteen years you have been in a dream
Or, when you waked, so waked as if you slept.
|
SLY These fifteen years! By my fay, a goodly nap.
But did I never speak of all that time?
|
SLY These fifteen years! By my fay, a goodly nap.
But did I never speak of all that time?
|
FIRST SERVANT O, yes, my lord, but very idle words.
For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
70 Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door;
And rail upon the hostess of the house,
And say you would present her at the leet,
Because she brought stone jugs and no sealed quarts.
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
|
FIRST SERVANT O, yes, my lord, but very idle words.
For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door;
And rail upon the hostess of the house,
And say you would present her at the leet,
Because she brought stone jugs and no sealed quarts.
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
|
SLY 75 Ay, the woman’s maid of the house.
|
SLY Ay, the woman’s maid of the house.
|
THIRD SERVANT Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid,
Nor no such men as you have reckoned up,
As Stephen Sly and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell,
80 And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.
|
THIRD SERVANT Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid,
Nor no such men as you have reckoned up,
As Stephen Sly and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell,
And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.
|
SLY Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!
|
SLY Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!
|
ALL Amen.
|
ALL Amen.
|
SLY I thank thee. Thou shalt not lose by it.
|
SLY I thank thee. Thou shalt not lose by it.
|
Enter the PAGE as a lady, with attendants
|
Enter the PAGE as a lady, with attendants
|
PAGE 85 How fares my noble lord?
|
PAGE How fares my noble lord?
|
SLY Marry, I fare well,
For here is cheer enough. Where is my wife?
|
SLY Marry, I fare well,
For here is cheer enough. Where is my wife?
|
PAGE Here, noble lord. What is thy will with her?
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PAGE Here, noble lord. What is thy will with her?
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SLY Are you my wife and will not call me “husband”?
My men should call me “lord.” I am your goodman.
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SLY Are you my wife and will not call me “husband”?
My men should call me “lord.” I am your goodman.
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PAGE 90 My husband and my lord, my lord and husband,
I am your wife in all obedience.
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PAGE My husband and my lord, my lord and husband,
I am your wife in all obedience.
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SLY I know it well.—What must I call her?
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SLY I know it well.—What must I call her?
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LORD “Madam.”
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LORD “Madam.”
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SLY “Alice Madam,” or “Joan Madam”?
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SLY “Alice Madam,” or “Joan Madam”?
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LORD “Madam,” and nothing else. So lords call ladies.
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LORD “Madam,” and nothing else. So lords call ladies.
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SLY 95 Madam wife, they say that I have dreamed
And slept above some fifteen year or more.
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SLY Madam wife, they say that I have dreamed
And slept above some fifteen year or more.
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PAGE Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,
Being all this time abandoned from your bed.
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PAGE Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,
Being all this time abandoned from your bed.
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SLY 'Tis much.—Servants, leave me and her alone.
100 Madam, undress you and come now to bed.
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SLY 'Tis much.—Servants, leave me and her alone.
Madam, undress you and come now to bed.
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PAGE Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you
To pardon me yet for a night or two,
Or if not so, until the sun be set.
For your physicians have expressly charged,
105 In peril to incur your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed.
I hope this reason stands for my excuse.
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PAGE Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you
To pardon me yet for a night or two,
Or if not so, until the sun be set.
For your physicians have expressly charged,
In peril to incur your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed.
I hope this reason stands for my excuse.
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SLY Ay, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into my dreams again. I will therefore tarry in despite of the flesh and the blood.
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SLY Ay, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into my dreams again. I will therefore tarry in despite of the flesh and the blood.
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Enter a MESSENGER
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Enter a MESSENGER
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MESSENGER Your Honor’s players, hearing your amendment,
110 Are come to play a pleasant comedy,
For so your doctors hold it very meet,
Seeing too much sadness hath congealed your blood,
And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.
Therefore they thought it good you hear a play
115 And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.
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MESSENGER Your Honor’s players, hearing your amendment,
Are come to play a pleasant comedy,
For so your doctors hold it very meet,
Seeing too much sadness hath congealed 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.
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SLY Marry, I will. Let them play it. Is not a comonty a
Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick?
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SLY Marry, I will. Let them play it. Is not a comonty a
Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick?
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PAGE No, my good lord, it is more pleasing stuff.
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PAGE No, my good lord, it is more pleasing stuff.
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SLY 120 What, household stuff?
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SLY What, household stuff?
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PAGE It is a kind of history.
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PAGE It is a kind of history.
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SLY Well, we’ll see ’t. Come, madam wife, sit by my side and let the world slip. We shall ne'er be younger.
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SLY Well, we’ll see ’t. Come, madam wife, sit by my side and let the world slip. We shall ne'er be younger.
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They sit
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They sit
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