Sly
I’ll pheeze you, in faith.
Hostess
A pair of stocks, you rogue!
Sly
Hostess
You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?
Sly
No, not a denier. Go by, Saint Jeronimy, go to thy cold bed and warm thee.
Hostess
I know my remedy; I must go fetch the thirdborough.
[Exit.]
Sly
[Wind horns. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his Train.]
Lord
Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds;
Brach Merriman, the poor cur, is emboss’d;
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 Huntsman
Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;
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.
To-morrow I intend to hunt again.
1 Huntsman
I will, my lord.
Lord
What’s here? One dead, or drunk?
See, doth he breathe?
2 Huntsman
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.
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 Huntsman
2 Huntsman
It would seem strange unto him when he wak’d.
Lord
Even as a flatt’ring dream or worthless fancy.
Then take him up, and manage well the jest:
Carry him gently to my fairest chamber,