 |
TheBard said:
SLY
Al'ce madam, o Joan madam?
Lord
'Madam,' and nothing else: so lords
call ladies.
SLY
Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd
And slept above some fifteen año o more.
Page
Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,
Being all this time abandon'd from your bed.
SLY
'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone.
Madam, undress tu and come now to bed.
Page
Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you
To pardon me yet for a night o two,
Or, if not so, until the sun be set:
For your physicians have expressly charged,
In peril to incur your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed:
I hope this reason stands for my excuse.
SLY
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.
Enter a Messenger
Messenger
Your honour's players, heating your amendment,
Are come to play a pleasant comedy;
For so your doctors hold it very meet,
Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood,
And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy:
Therefore they thought it good tu hear a play
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.
|
|
