This I'll do for you. Hel. And you shall find yourself to be well thank'd,

Whate'er falls more.-We must to horse again;-
Go, go, provide.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.-Rousillon. The inner Court of the

Countess's Palace.

Enter Clown and PAROLLES.

Par. Good monsieur Lavatch, give my lord Lafeu 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 thenceforth eat no tish of fortune's buttering.Prythee, allow the wind.

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

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

Pur. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper.

Cio. Foh! prythee, 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, 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 like a 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.

Laf. And what would you have me to do? 'tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein have you played the knave 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: Let the justices make you and fortune friends: I am for other business. Par. I beseech your honor 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 druin?

Par. O my good lord, you were the first that found me.

Lof. Was I, 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.

Luf. 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. Trumpets sound. The king's coming, I know by his trumpets.-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, follow. Par. I praise God for you.

[Exeunt. SCENE III-A Room in the Countess's Palace. Flourish. Enter King, Countess, LAFEU, Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, &c.

King. We lost a jewel of her; and our esteem Was made much poorer by it: but your son, As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know Her estimation home.

King.

Natural rebellion, done i' the blaze of youth;
When oil and fire, too strong for reason's force,
O'erbears it, and burns on.
My honor'd lady,
I have forgiven and forgotten all;
Though my revenges were high bent upon him,
And watch'd the time to shoot.
Lof.
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 scorned to serve,
Humbly call'd mistress.
King.
Praising what is lost,
Makes the remembrance deal. 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.
I shall, my liege.
Exit Gentleman.
King. What says he to your daughter? have you
spoke!

Gent.

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

Laf.

Enter BERTRAM.

He looks well on't. King. I am not a day of season, For thou mayst see a sunshine 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. My high reputed blames, Dear sovereign, pardon to me. King.

Ber.

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 struck 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 favor;
Scorn'd a fair color, or express'd it stol'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
From the great compt: But love, that comes too late
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 'il stay
To see our widower's second marriage-day.
Count. Which better than the first, O dear heaven

bless!

Son, on my life,

I have seen her wear it; and she reckon❜d it
At her life's rate.

Luf.
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 contain'd the name
Of her that threw it: noble she was, and thought
I stood engag'd: 2 but when I had subscrib'd
To mine own fortune, and inform'd her fully,
I could not answer in that course of honor,
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 inedicine, 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 honor;

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,
Shall tax my fears of little vanity,

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

Ber.

If you shall prove This ring was ever hers, you shall as easy Prove that I husbanded lier bed in Florence, Where yet she never was.

Exit BERTRAM, guarded. Enter a Gentleman.

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 important 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 honor's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to his country for justice: Grant it me, O king; in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor maid is DIANA CAPULET.

undone.

Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and

toll him: for this, I'll none of him. King. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu,

To bring forth this discovery.-Seck these suitors: Go, speedily, and bring again the count.

[Exeunt Gentleman and some Attendants. In the sense of unengaged. The Philosopher's stone. • Post-stages. B Pay toll for him.

you,

King. I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to
And that you fly them as you swear them lordship
Yet you
desire to marry.-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 honor
And both shall cease, without your remedy.
Both suffer under this complaint we bring,
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?
Din. 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;
That she, which marries you, must marry me,
For I by vow am so embodied yours,
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 high

ness

Lay a more noble thought upon mine honor,
Than for to think that I would sink it here.

King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend,

Till your deeds gain them: Fairer prove your honor,

Than in my thought it lies!

Dia.

Good my lord,

Ask him upon his oath, if he does think
He had not my virginity.

King. What sayest 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 give it to a commoner o' the camp,
If I be one.

Count.

He blushes, and 'tis it: Of six preceding ancestors, that gem Conterr'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.
Lof. 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'd and debosh'd;»
Whose nature sickens, but to 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 liked 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,3

Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring
And I had that, which any inferior might
At market price have bought.

Dia.

You that turn'd off a first so noble wife,

May justly diet me. I pray you yet,
(Since you lack virtue, 1 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.

King. Know you this ring? this ring was his

of late.

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 knowest? Pur. 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 of limbo, and of furies, and 1 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? 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. Luf. 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.

Thou diest within this hour. Dia.

I'll never tell you.

King. Take her away.
Diu.
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 accused him all this
while?

Dir. 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.]
King. She does abuse our cars; to prison with

her. Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail.-Stay, royal sir; [Exit Widow. The jeweler, that owes the ring, is sent for, And he shall surety me. But for this lord, Who hath abus'd ine, 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.

King.

Re-enter Widow, with HELENA.

Is there no exorcist

Beguiles the truer office 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, &c.-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 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.

[To DIANA.

To make the even truth in pleasure flow:-
King. Let us from point to point this story know,
If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower,
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.

Advancing.

[Flourish.

SCENE I-Before an alehouse on a heath.
Enter HOSTESS and SLY.

Sly. I'll pheese 1 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 Conquerer. Therefore puucus pallabris; let the world slide: Sessa ! 3

Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have

burst!

Sly. No, not a denier: Go by, says Jeronimo;Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.

Host. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the third borough.s

Sty. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough. I'll answer him by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy; let him come, and kindly.

[Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep. Wind horns. Enter a Lord from hunting, with Huntsman and Servants.

Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my

hounds;

Brach Merriman,-the poor cur is emboss'd‚1-
And couple Clowder with the deep-mouthed 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.
1 Hunt. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;
He cried upon it at the merest 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 Echo were as fleet,
I would esteem him worth a dozen such.
But sup them well, and look unto them all;
To-morrow I intend to hunt again.

1 Hunt. I will, my lord.

Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?

2 Hunt. 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 Hunt. Believe me, lord, 1 think he cannot choose.

2 Hunt. 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 honor will command?
Let one attend him with a silver bason,
Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers;
Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,
And say,-Will't please your lordship cool your
Some one be ready with a costly suit,
hands!
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,
This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs;
For he is nothing but a mighty lord.
It will be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modesty.

1 Hunt. 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.

[Some bear out SLY. A trumpet sounds. Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds: [Exit Servant. Belike, some noble gentleman; that means, Traveling some journey, to repose him here.

Re-enter a Servant.

How now? who is it?
Serv.
An it please your honor,
Players that offer service to your lordship.
Lord. Bid them come near: -
Enter Players.

Now, fellows, you are welcome.
1 Play. We thank your honor.
Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night?
2 Play. So please your lordship to accept our duty

Moderation.

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 gentlewom in 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 honor 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;
Lest, over-eying of his odd behavior,
(For yet his honor never heard a play,)
You break into some inerry passion,
And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs,
If you should smile, he grows impatient.

I 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 atords.[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 honorable action, Such as he hath observed in noble ladies Unto their lords, by them accomplished: Such duty to the drunkard let hun do, With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy ; And say-What is t your honor will command, Wherein your lady, and your humble wife, May show 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 overjoy'd To see her noble lord restor'd to health, Who, for twice seven years, hath esteemed 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.

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 go into extremes. [Exeunt, SCENE II. A Bedchamber in the Lord's House. SLY is discovered in a rich night-gown, with Attendants; some with apparel, others with bason. ewer, and other appurtenances. Enter Lord,

dressed like a Servant.

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

1 Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack?

2 Serv. Will't please your honor taste of these conserves?

3 Serv. What raiment will your honor wear to-day? Sly. I am Christopher Siy; call not me-hour, 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 1 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 over-leather.

Lord. Heaven cease this idle humor in your

honor!

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 Burton-heath;

by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker! Ask Marian Hacket, the fat aie-wife 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 lyingest knave in Christendom. What, I am not bestraught; Here's

1 Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn. 2 Serv. O, this it is that makes your servants droop.

Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shun 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.

And twenty caged nightingales do sing:
Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch,
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
On purpose trinm'd up for Semiramis.
Say, thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground:
Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking! thou hast bawks will soar
Above the morning lark: Or wilt thou hunt?
Thy hounds shail make the welkin answer them,
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.
1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds
are as swift

As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.
2 Serv. 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 lo, as she was a maid;
And how she was beguiled and surpris'd,
As lively painted as the deed was done.

3 Serv. 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.

1 Serv. And, till the tears that she had shed for thee,

Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face.
She was the fairest creature in the world;
And yet she is inferior to none.

Sy. Am I a lord? and have I such a lady?
Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now?
I do not sleep; 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 Cristophero Sly.-
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight:
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.
2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash
your hands!

[Servants present an ewer, basin, and napkin. 0, how we joy to see your wit restor❜d!

O, that once more you knew but what you are! These fifteen years, you have been in a dream; Or. when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept.

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

1 Serv. O, yes, my lord; but very idle words:For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, Yet you would say, ye were beaten out of doors; And rail upon the hostess of the house; And say, you would present her at the leet,' Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts. Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. Stu. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.

3 Serv. Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such maid

Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd up,—
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, 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;
• Distracted.
1 Court-leet.