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Before an Aleboufe on a Heath.

Enter Hoftefs and Sly.


"'LL pheese you', in faith.


Hoft. 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 Conqueror; therefore, paucus pallabris 2; let the world nide: Seffa.

* I'll pheefe you,-] To pheeze or feafe, is to feparate a twift into fingle threads. In the figurative fense it may well enough be taken, like teaze or toze, for to barrass, to plague. Perhaps I'll pheeze you, may be equivalent to I'll comb your bead, a phrafe vulgarly used by perfons of Sly's

character on like occafions.

no rogues] That is, no vagrants, no mean fellows, but Gentlemen.


-paucus pallabris;] Sly, as an ignorant Fellow, is purpofely made to aim at Languages out of his knowledge, and knock the Words out of Joint. The Spaniards say, pocas palabras, i. e. few words as they do likewise, Cefa, i. e. be quiet. THEOB. B 2


Hoft. You will not pay for the glaffes you have burst? Sly. No, not a denier: go by, Jeronimo thy cold bed, and warm thee3.

go to

Hoft. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the Thirdborough*.

Sly. 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 afleep.

3 Go by S. Jeronimy, go to thy" fom, don't interrupt me, go, cold Bed, and warm thee.] All "by;" and, to fix the Satire in the Editions have coined a Saint his Allufion, pleasantly calls her here, for Sly to fwear by. But Jeronymo. THEOBALD. the Poet had no fuch Intentions. 4- I must go fetch the HeadThe Paffage has particular Hu- borough. mour in it, and must have been very pleafing at that time of day. But I must clear up a Piece of Stage hiftory, to make it underftood. There is a fuftian old Play, call'd, Hieronymo; Or, The Spanish Tragedy: which, I find, was the common Butt of Rallery to all the Poets of ShakeSpeare's Time: and a Paffage, that appear'd very ridiculous in that Play, is here humorously alluded to. Hieronymo, thinking himself injur'd, applies to the King for Juftice; but the Courtiers, who did not defire his Wrongs fhould be fet in a true Light, attempt to hinder him from an Audience.

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Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth Borough, &c.] This corrupt reading had pafs'd down through all the Copies, and none of the Editors pretended to guess at the Poet's Conceit. What an infipid, unmeaning Reply does Sly make to his Hoftefs? How do third, or fourth, or fifth Borough relate to Headborough? The Author intended but a poor Witticism, and even That is loft. The Hoftefs would fay, that fhe'll fetch a Conftable: and this Officer fhe calls by his other Name, a Thirdborough: and upon this Term 8ly founds the Conundrum in his Anfwer to her. Who does not perceive, at a fingle glance, fome Conceit ftarted by this certain Correction? There is an Attempt at Wit, tolerable enough for a Tinker, and one drunk too. Third-borough is a Saxon-Term fufficiently explain'd by the Gla faries: and in our Statute books, no farther back than the 28th Year of Henry VIIIth, we find it used to fignify a Constable.




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

Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds,

Brach, Merriman, the poor cur is imboft';

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 dulleft fcent:
Truft 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 fuch.
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? fee, doth he breathe?

2 Hun. He breathes, my Lord. Were he not warm'd with ale,

This were a bed but cold, to fleep fo foundly.

Lord. O monftrous beaft! how like a fwine he lies! -Grim death, how foul and loathfome is thy image! Sirs, I will practife on this drunken man. What think you, if he were convey'd to bed, Wrapt in sweet cloaths; rings put upon his fingers; A moft delicious banquet by his bed,

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

1 Hun. Believe me, Lord, I think he cannot chufe, 2 Hun. It would feem ftrange 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 diftilled waters,
And burn fweet wood to make the lodging fweet.
Procure me mufic ready, when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heav'nly found;
And if he chance to fpeak, be ready ftraight,
And with a low fubmiffive reverence

Say, what is it your Honour will command?
Let one attend him with a filver bafon

Full of rofe water, and beftrew'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 coftly suit,

And ask him what apparel he will wear;
Another tell him of his hounds and horfe,
And that his Lady mourns at his disease;
Persuade him, that he hath been lunatick.
And when he fays 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 paftime paffing excellent,
If it be hufbanded with modefty".

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1 Hun. My Lord, I warrant you, we'll play our part,

As he fhall think, by our true diligence,

He is no less than what we fay he is.


Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with him;

-mod:fy.] By modesty is meant moderation, without fuffering

our merriment to break into any excefs.


And each one to his Office, when he wakes.

[Some bear out Sly. Sound Trumpets.

Sirrah, go fee what trumpet is that founds.

Belike, fome noble gentleman that means,[Ex. Servant. Travelling fome journey, to repofe him here.


Re-enter a Servant.

How now? who is it?

Ser. An't please your Honour, Players That offer Service to your lordfhip.

Lord. Bid them come near:

Enter Players.

Now, Fellows, you are welcome.
Play. We thank your Honour.

Lord. Do you intend to ftay with me to-night?
2 Play. So please your Lordfhip to accept our duty*.
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 gentlewoman fo 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 fport in hand, Wherein your cunning can affist me much.

It was in thofe times the cuftom of players to travel in companies, and offer their service at great houses.

7 Ithink, '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,

B 4

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


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