INDUCTION
Scene 1
Enter Beggar (Christopher Sly) and Hostess.
I’ll feeze you, in faith.
...stocks, you rogue!
You’re a baggage! The Slys are no rogues. Look
in the chronicles. We came in with Richard Conqueror.
Therefore, paucas pallabris, let the world
slide. Sessa!
...you have burst?
No, not a denier. Go, by Saint Jeronimy! Go to
thy cold bed and warm thee.
He lies down.
...fetch the headborough.
Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I’ll answer him
by law. I’ll not budge an inch, boy. Let him come,
and kindly.
Falls asleep.
...when he wakes.
Sly is carried out.
Scene 2
...grow into extremes.
Enter aloft Christopher Sly, the drunkard, with Attendants, some with apparel, basin and ewer, and other appurtenances, and Lord dressed as an Attendant.
For God’s sake, a pot of small ale.
...Honor wear today?
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.
...foul a spirit!
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—
...inferior to none.
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.
...if you slept.
These fifteen years! By my fay, a goodly nap.
But did I never speak of all that time?
...for Cicely Hacket.
Ay, the woman’s maid of the house.
...man ever saw.
Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends!
... Amen.
I thank thee. Thou shalt not lose by it.
...my noble lord?
Marry, I fare well, for here is cheer enough.
Where is my wife?
...will with her?
Are you my wife, and will not call me “husband”?
My men should call me “lord.” I am your goodman.
...in all obedience.
I know it well.—What must I call her?
... “Madam.”
“Alice Madam,” or “Joan Madam”?
...lords call ladies.
Madam wife, they say that I have dreamed
And slept above some fifteen year or more.
...from your bed.
’Tis much.—Servants, leave me and her alone.—
Madam, undress you, and come now to bed.
...for my excuse.
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.
...and lengthens life.
Marry, I will. Let them play it.
Is not a comonty a Christmas gambold or a tumbling
trick?
...more pleasing stuff.
What, household stuff?
...kind of history.
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.
ACT 1
Scene 1
...mind the play.
Yes, by Saint Anne, do I. A good matter, surely.
Comes there any more of it?
...’tis but begun.
’Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady.
Would ’twere done.
They sit and mark.