Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds,

And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,

60

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.

First Serv. And till the tears that she hath shed for thee

Like envious floods o'er-run 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? 70 Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now?

I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak;

I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things:
Upon my life, I am a lord indeed

And not a tinker nor Christophero Sly.
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.

Sec. Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands?

79

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?

*Faith.

First Serv. 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 seal'd
quarts:
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
Third Serv. Why, sir, you know no house
nor no such maid,

*Manor-court.

Nor no such men as you have reckon’d up,

90

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!

All. Amen.

Sly. I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it.

Enter the Page as a lady, with Attendants. Page. How fares my noble lord?

100

Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough.

Where is my wife?

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 good

man.

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? Lord. Madam.

Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam?

III

Lord. 'Madam,' and nothing else: so lords call ladies.

Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd And slept above some fifteen year or more.

Page. 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.

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.

121

Sly. Ay, it stands so that I may hardly tarry