by: William Shakespeare
MODERN TEXT
Induction
Scene 1
SLY AND HOSTESS ENTER.
SLY
I’ll fix you, I swear.
HOSTESS
You thug! I’ll call for a pair of stocks!
SLY
There are no thugs in my family, whore! Read your history! We Slys came over with Richard the Conqueror. Oh, the hell with it. I can’t be bothered. Shut up!
HOSTESS
You won’t pay for the glasses you smashed?
SLY
No, not a penny. Get out of my face. Go play with yourself.
HOSTESS
I know my rights. I’ll call a policeman.
SHE EXITS.
SLY
Call them all! I have a legal right to be here. I’m not moving an inch, pal. Let them come—I don’t care.
HE FALLS ASLEEP.
A HUNTING HORN IS HEARD. A LORD WHO HAS BEEN HUNTING ENTERS WITH HIS HUNSTMEN.
LORD
Huntsman, look after my hounds. Let Merriman catch his breath—the poor dog’s foaming at the mouth. And tie up Clowder together with the long-mouthed bitch. (to his page) Did you see, boy, how Silver picked up the scent at the hedge corner, where it was weakest? I wouldn’t part with that dog for twenty pounds.
FIRST HUNTSMAN
I think Belman is just as good, my lord. He set up a howl when the scent was lost completely and twice picked it up where it was weakest. I swear he’s the better dog.
LORD
You’re a fool. If Echo were as fast, he would be worth a dozen like Belman. But give them all a good dinner and look after them well. I’ll go hunting again tomorrow, I think.
FIRST HUNTSMAN
I will, my lord.
LORD
What’s this? A drunkard or a corpse? Check and see if he’s breathing.
SECOND HUNTSMAN
He is, my lord. But this would be too cold a place to sleep if he hadn’t warmed himself with ale.
LORD
It’s disgusting, sleeping that way—like a pig in the gutter! Alas, grim death, how vile and ugly your near-twin, sleep, is! Gentlemen, I think I’ll play a trick on this lout. What do you think? Say we were to carry him to one of the bedrooms, put fresh clothes on him and rings on his fingers, lay out a wonderful feast by his bed, and have servants in fancy dress near him when he wakes up—wouldn’t the poor tramp be confused?
FIRST HUNTSMAN
I don’t think he’d have any choice, my lord.
SECOND HUNTSMAN
When he woke, he wouldn’t know where he was.
LORD
It would be just like a nice daydream or fantasy. Well, take him on up and we’ll try to pull it off. Carry him to my best room—gently, so he doesn’t wake—and hang all my erotic paintings around him. Bathe his filthy head with warm, scented water. Burn fragrant wood to give the room a pleasant smell, and have musicians at hand, ready to produce sweet, soothing sounds when he awakes. You want to be ready in case he speaks. If he does, bow low and say deferentially, “What would your Honor have us do?” Have one servant wait on him with a basin of rosewater (throw in some petals), have another servant carry a pitcher, and a third a cloth. Say, “Would your Lordship care to freshen up?” Have someone standing by with expensive clothes, and ask him what he’d care to wear. Have another servant tell him about the dogs and horses that he owns and that his wife is grief-stricken over his illness. Convince him that he has been out of his mind—and when he says he’s out of his mind now, tell him he’s mistaken and that he is in fact a mighty lord. Do this—make it convincing—and we’ll have fun. It could work if it’s done subtly.
FIRST HUNTSMAN
My lord, I promise we will play our parts so skillfully that he will believe everything we tell him.
LORD
Carry him gently to bed, and every man be ready at his post when he awakes.
SEVERAL SERVANTS CARRY SLY OUT. TRUMPETS SOUND.
Go, lad, and find out what the trumpet’s sounding for.
A SERVANT EXITS.
It’s probably some noble gentleman stopping off in mid-journey, thinking to spend the night here.
A SERVANT ENTERS.
Well, who is it?
SERVANT
Sir, it’s a troupe of actors who want to perform for your Lordship.
LORD
Have them come in.
THE PLAYERS(ACTORS) ENTER.
You are welcome here, my friends.
PLAYERS
We thank your Honor.
LORD
Were you thinking of spending the night here?
A PLAYER
Yes, if that would be all right with your Lordship.
LORD
By all means. I remember this fellow—he once played the eldest son of a farmer. It was the play in which you wooed the gentlewoman so successfully. I have forgotten your name, but you were well cast in the role and played it convincingly.
A PLAYER
I believe your Honor is thinking of a character called Soto.
LORD
Yes, that was it. You gave an excellent performance. Well, this is very fortunate, your arriving just at this moment. I happen to be planning a little entertainment and could really use your services. There is a particular lord who will watch you perform tonight. I’m a little worried, though—because his Honor has never seen a play before—that his odd behavior may strike you as funny. You might not be able to control your laughter and you might offend him. I warn you, he’s sensitive. The slightest smile provokes him.
A PLAYER
Don’t worry. We’ll restrain ourselves—no matter how bizarrely he behaves.
LORD
Go, lad, and take them to the pantry. Make them feel welcome and see to it that they have everything they require.
A SERVANT EXITS WITH THE PLAYERS.
You, fellow, go fetch my page, Bartholomew, and dress him up like a noble lady. When you’ve finished, bring him to the drunkard’s room, address him as “madam,” bow to him and treat him with all-round respect and deference, as though he were the lady of the house. Give him this message: if he wants to please me, he will conduct himself like a member of the aristocracy, mimicking the kind of behavior he’s seen noble ladies use toward their husbands.
That’s just how I want him to behave toward the drunkard, speaking in a low, soft voice and in humble, courteous tones and saying fancy stuff like, “What does your Honor wish to command your lady, your humble wife, to do to show her devotion and demonstrate her love?” Tell him to give the drunkard fond embraces and alluring kisses, and lay his head on the other man’s breast, weeping like a woman overjoyed to see a husband restored to health who for the last seven years has imagined he was no better than a poor, pathetic beggar. The boy may lack a woman’s gift for weeping at will, so it might be good to have an onion handy, hidden in a handkerchief. That’ll make his eyes stream. Get this done as quickly as you can. I’ll give you more instructions later.
A SERVANT EXITS.
I know the boy will be a convincing gentlewoman, taking up her exact walk and talk and gentle gestures. I can’t wait to hear him call the drunkard “husband,” and to watch my men smother their laughter as they pay their respects to this simple peasant. I’ll go and coach them. My presence may put a damper on their high spirits, which might otherwise get out of control.
THEY ALL EXIT.
Induction
Scene 2
SLY APPEARS ABOVE THE STAGE. HE IS ATTENDED BY SEVERAL SERVANTS, SOME CARRYING CLOTHING AND OTHERS A BASIN, PITCHER, AND OTHER ACCESSORIES. THE LORD ALSO ENTERS DISGUISED AS A SERVANT.
SLY
For God’s sake, would someone bring me a mug of beer!
FIRST SERVANT
Wouldn’t your Lordship prefer some imported wine?
SECOND SERVANT
Would your Honor like to try this dried fruit?
THIRD SERVANT
What garment would your Honor like to wear today?
SLY
I’m Christopher Sly. Don’t call me “your Honor” and “your Lordship.” I’ve never had imported wine in my life, and if you want to bring me something “dried,” try beef jerky. Why ask me what “garment” I’ll wear? I have no more jackets than I have backs, no more leggings than I have legs, and no more shoes than I have feet—in fact, sometimes I have fewer shoes than feet, as I’m not sure the ones where my toes stick out can be called “shoes.”
LORD
May Heaven put an end to this foolish fantasy of your Honor’s! How terrible that a man of your influence and noble family, with so much wealth and an excellent reputation, should be infected with such a horrible illness!
SLY
What, are you trying to make me crazy? I’m Christopher Sly, son of old Sly of Barton-on-Heath, a peddler by birth, a cardmaker by trade, a keeper of trained bears by bad luck, and now, by present profession, a tinker. Go ask Marian Hacket, the fat innkeeper of Wincot. She knows me! She’ll tell you about the tab I’ve run up—fourteen pence just for ale. If she doesn’t, call me the biggest liar in Christendom. I’m not crazy! Just look at how—
THIRD SERVANT
Oh, this is why your poor wife is mourning!
SECOND SERVANT
And this is why your servants hang their heads in sorrow!
LORD
And this is why your relatives never visit, frightened away by this unnatural insanity of yours. Oh noble lord, consider your lineage. Try to recall your former state of mental health and forget these crass, lowly desires. Look how your servants wait on you, each one ready to do whatever you command. Would you care to hear some music? Listen! That’s Apollo playing.
MUSIC PLAYS.
And those birds you hear—twenty caged nightingales. Do you want to sleep? We’ll have a couch made up that’s softer and more fragrant even than the bed of lustful Semiramis. Say you want to take a walk, and we’ll sprinkle the ground with flowers. Or do you want to go horseback riding? Your horses will be adorned with harnesses decorated in gold and pearls. Do you like hawking? You have hawks that can soar higher than the morning lark. Or do you want to hunt? Your hounds will make the sky echo with their high-pitched voices.
FIRST SERVANT
If you care to hunt rabbits, your greyhounds are as swift as healthy stags and faster than young deer.
SECOND SERVANT
Do you like pictures? We’ll be right back with one of Adonis stretched out beside a rushing brook, with Venus spying on him, hidden in rushes that seem to move and undulate with her lustful sighs, like grass waving in the wind.
LORD
There’s one that shows Io as a maid, before she was turned into a cow, in which Jupiter tricks and takes her. It’s so realistic, it seems to be happening right before your eyes.
THIRD SERVANT
There’s one of Daphne running through the woods, her legs so scratched by thorns that Apollo himself would weep at the sight. You’ll swear the blood and tears are real.
LORD
You are nothing less than a lord. You have a noble wife who is much more beautiful than any other woman in this declining age.
FIRST SERVANT
Before she began shedding tears all over her lovely face, she was the fairest creature in the world—and even now she has no equal.
SLY
I’m really a lord? And do I really have a wife like that? Is this a dream? Or has everything up till now been a dream? I don’t seem to be asleep: I can see and hear and speak. I can smell sweet smells and feel things that are soft to the touch. I’ll be damned! I guess I really am a lord and not a tinker, and not Christopher Sly, either. Well, bring my wife to me. Oh, and don’t forget the beer.
SECOND SERVANT
Would your Mightiness care to wash his hands? We’re overjoyed to see you sane again. If only you had a clearer memory of who you are! These past fifteen years you have been living in a dream, and even when you were awake, it was as though you slept.
SLY
Fifteen years! That’s some nap. But I never spoke the whole time?
FIRST SERVANT
Oh yes, you spoke, my lord, but total nonsense. For instance, you’d be lying here in this comfortable room, but you’d say that you were being thrown out of some tavern and would shout at a landlady about how you were going to take her to court for cheating you. Sometimes you would call out for one Cicely Hacket.
SLY
Yes, the landlady’s maid.
THIRD SERVANT
But sir, there is no such house, no such maid, and no such men as you have dreamed up, like a certain Stephen Sly and one old John Naps of Greece, a Peter Turph, one “Henry Pimpernell,” and twenty more men of this sort—who never actually existed.
SLY
Well, thank God I’m cured!
ALL
Amen.
ALL
Amen.
SLY
I thank you all. You won’t regret this.
THE PAGE ENTERS, DISGUISED AS A NOBLE LADY AND ACCOMPANIED BY SERVANTS.
PAGE
How is my noble lord?
SLY
Not bad, actually. This is all quite pleasant. Where is my wife?
PAGE
Here, noble lord. What is your wish with regard to her?
SLY
You call yourself my wife, yet you don’t call me “husband”? It’s my men who should call me “lord.” I’m your man, your fellow.
PAGE
My husband is my lord and my lord is my husband. For I am your all-obedient wife.
SLY
Yes, I see.—(to the LORD) What should I call her?
LORD
“Madam.”
SLY
“ Madam Alice?” Or “Madam Joan?”
LORD
Just “madam.” That’s how noblemen address their wives.
SLY
Madam wife, they say I’ve been dreaming or asleep for more than fifteen years.
PAGE
Yes, and it seemed twice as long to me, having been kept from your bed that whole time.
SLY
That’s too long.—Servants, leave her and me alone. Now, madam, undress and come to bed.
PAGE
Thrice noble lord, I beg you to excuse me for another night or two—or at least until nightfall. Your doctors have expressly forbidden me to sleep with you, as there’s a risk that you might have a relapse. I hope this explanation will stand as my excuse.
SLY
Well, something’s standing up. I’m not sure I can wait that long. Still, I’d hate to see my former dreams return. So I will wait, however flesh and blood may feel about it.
A MESSENGER.
MESSENGER
Your Honor’s actors, hearing of your recovery, have come to perform a pleasing comedy for you—and your doctors approve wholeheartedly. They say that too much suffering has made your blood coagulate, and that sadness leads to madness. So they think it’s a good idea for you to watch a play and direct your thoughts toward laughter and merriment—two strong preventive medicines that foster long life.
SLY
Okay, bring on the play. But what’s a “ comonty?” Some sort of Christmas skit or display of acrobatics?
PAGE
No, my good lord, this is nicer stuff.
SLY
What, like stuff from a house?
PAGE
No, it’s a story.
SLY
Well, let’s watch it. Come, madam wife, sit here beside me. Let’s forget our cares. We’re not getting any younger.
THEY SIT.