Decorative painting

What, would you make me mad? Am not I ChristopherSly, old Sly's son of Burtonheath, by birth apedlar, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation abear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker?Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, ifshe know me not: if she say I am not fourteen penceon the score for sheer ale, score me up for thelyingest knave in Christendom. What! I am notbestraught: here's --
Third Servant
O, this it is that makes your lady mourn!
Second Servant
O, this is it that makes your servants droop!
Lord
Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth,Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishmentAnd banish hence these abject lowly dreams.Look how thy servants do attend on thee,Each in his office ready at thy beck.Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays,
[Music]
And twenty caged nightingales do sing:Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couchSofter and sweeter than the lustful bedOn purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground:Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd,Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soarAbove the morning lark or wilt thou hunt?