1

-

1

Wind horns. Enter a Lord from bunting, with a Train.

Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my

hounds,

Brach, Merriman, the poor cur is imbost';
And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd Brach.
Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge-corner in the coldest fault?
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.

Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my Lord;
He cried upon it at the meerest loss,
And twice to day pick'd out the dullest scent:
Trust me, I take him for the better dog.

Lord. Thou art a fool; if Eccho were as fleet,
I would esteem him worth a dozen such.
But fup them well, and look unto them all,
To morrow I intend to hunt again.
Hun. I will, my Lord.

Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? see, doth

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 loathsomelis thy image!-
Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.
What think you, if he were convey'd to bed,
Wrapt in sweet cloaths; rings put upon his fingers;
A most delicious banquet by his bed,

5 Brach, Merriman, Sir T. Hanmer reads, Leech Merriman, that is, apply fome remedies to Merriman, the poor cur has his joints fwelled. Perhaps we might read, bathe Merriman, which is

I believe the common practice of
huntsmen, but the present read-
ing may stand

B 3.

-tender well my hounds,
Brach --- Merriman ---the poor
cur is imboft.

And

And brave attendants near him, when he wakes;
Would not the beggar then forget himself?

1 Hun, Believe me, Lord, I think he cannot chuse, 2 Hun. It would feem strange unto him, when he wak'd.

Lord. Even as a flatt'ring dream, or worthless fancy. Then take him up, and manage well the jeft : 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 heav'nly found; 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 bafon
Full of rose water, and bestrew'd with flowers;
Another bear the ewer; a third a diaper;
And fay, will't please your Lordship cool your hands?
Some one be ready with a costly fuit,
And ask him what apparel he will wear;
Another tell him of his hounds and horfe,
And that his Lady mourns at his disease;
Perfuade him, that he hath been lunatick.
And when he says he is,fay, 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 modefty.

1 Hun. 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;

6-modesty.] By modesty is meant moderation, without fuffering

our merriment to break into any excess.

And 1

And each one to his Office, when he wakes.

[Some bear out Sly. Sound Trumpets.

Sirrah, go fee what trumpet is that sounds.
Belike, fome noble gentleman that means, [Ex. Servant.
Travelling some journey, to repose him here.

SCENE III.

Re-enter a Servant.

How now? who is it?

Ser. An't please your Honour, Players

That offer Service to your lordship.
Lord. Bid them come near:

Enter Players.

Now, Fellows, you are welcome.

Play. We thank your Honour.
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 fon :
'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well :
I have forgot your name; but, fure, that part,
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd.

Sim. I think, 'twas Soto that your Honour means 7.
Lord. 'Tis very true; thou didst it excellent :

Well, you are come to me in happy time,
The rather for I have fome sport in hand,
Wherein your cunning can assist me much.

* It was in those times the
custom of players to travel in
companies, and offer their service
at great houses

7 I think, 'twas Soto] I take our Author here to be paying a Compliment to Beaumont and Fletcher's Women pleas'd, in which Comedy there is the Character of Soto, who is a Farmer's Son,

B4

and a very facetious Servingman. Mr. Rowe and Mr. Poрв prefix the Name of Sim to the Line here spoken; but the first folio has it Sincklo; which, no doubt, was the Name of one of the Players here introduc'd, and、 who had play'd the Part of Soto with Applause.

THEOBALD.
There

1

There is a Lord will hear you play to-night;
But I am doubtful of your modefties,
Left, over-eying of his odd Behaviour,
(For yet his honour never heard a Play)
You break into some merry Paffion,
And fo offend him; for I tell you, Sirs,
If you should fimile, he grows impatient.

Play. Fear not, my lord, we can contain ourselves; Were he the veriest antick in the world. 2 Play. [to the other.] Go get a Dishclout to make clean your shoes; and I'll speak for the properties 8. [Exit Player. My lord, we must have a shoulder of mutton for a property, and a little Vinegar to make our devil roar.

Lord. Go, firrah, take them to the buttery, And give them friendly welcome, every one : Let them want nothing that the house affords.

[Exit one with the Players.

Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page,
And fee him drest in all fuits like a lady.

That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber,
And call him Madam, do him all 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 accomplish'd;
Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
With foft low tongue, and lowly courtesy;
And say; what is't your Honour will command,
Wherein your lady and your humble wife,'
May shew 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 over-joy'd
To fee her noble lord restor'd to health,
Who for twice seven years hath esteem'd himself*
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 fuch a shift;
Which in a Napkin being close convey'd,
Shall in despight enforce a wat'ry eye.
See this dispatch'd, with all the haste thou canst;
Anon I'll give thee more instructions. [Exit Servant.
I know the boy will well ufurp the grace,
Voice, gate, and action of a gentlewoman..
I long to hear him call the drunkard, husband;
And how my men will stay themselves for laughter,
When they do homage to this simple peasant.
I'll in to counsel them: haply, my prefence
May well abate the over-merry spleen;

Which otherwise will go into extreams. [Exit Lord.

Poet design'd, the Tinker's suppos'd Lunacy should be of fourteen Years standing at least, is evident upon two parallel Paffages in the Play to that Purpose. THEOBALD.