Introduction

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,    
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.

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 savours 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’ th’ smallest ale.

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 Burtonheath, by birth a peddler, by     
education a cardmaker, by transmutation a bear-herd,    
and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian     

Lord

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 accomplishèd.    
Such duty to the drunkard let him 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?'

Lord

Sirrah, go you to Barthol'mew, my page,    
And see him dressed in all suits like a lady.
That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber
And call him 'madam'; do him obeisance.    

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