I will dress
becomingly.'

"'Now you are yourself again. I must hasten to inform the Court of
your recovery. I must fly to her Grace the Duchess, and say, "The
Duke, the Duke is himself again!"'

"'The Duke! I tell you I am Christopher Sly,--old Sly's son, of Burton
Heath,--by birth a peddler and by trade a tinker. Duke Sly! No. Duke
Christopher! or, better, Duke Christophero! Marry, friend! wouldn't
that sound well? It may be I am a duke, for all. Go ask Marian Hacket,
the buxom inn-keeper of Wincot, if she don't know Christopher
Sly,--Duke Christophero; and if she say I do not owe her fourteen
pence for small ale, then call me the biggest liar and knave in
Christendom!'

"The servants presently brought the poor tinker a silver basin, 'full
of rose-water, and bestrewed with flowers.' Then they brought him a
suit of crimson, trimmed with lace and starred. The bewildered fellow
stared awhile in silence; then he slowly put on the gorgeous apparel.

"The tinker next was conducted to a magnificent banqueting-hall, where
was spread a rich feast. The tables smoked with venison and sparkled
with wine. He was led to a high seat beneath a canopy of silk and
gold, the Duchess following, and seating herself by his side. Knights
and ladies filled the tables, and the tinker began to feast and to sip
wine like a duke indeed.

"'I wish'--said he, suddenly.

"'What is your wish?' asked the Duchess.

"'I wish that old Stephen Sly was here, and John Naps and Peter Turf,
and my wife Joan, and Marian Hacket: wouldn't it be jolly?'

"Christopher had never smacked his lips over such wine before, and he
drank so deeply that his ideas became mixed again. The feast ended.
The ladies sung and the musicians played, but Christopher continued
drinking as long as he could hold a beaker. He began to be sleepy, and
presently tumbled from his high seat beneath the silken canopy to the
floor,

'Where he sleeping did snore,
Being seven times drunker than ever before.'

"And here the reign of Duke Christophero came to a sudden end. The
real Duke ordered the attendants to take him away, and to put upon him
his 'old leather garments again.'

"'When the night is well advanced,' said the Duke, 'take him back to
the place where we found him, and there watch his behavior when he
awakes.'

"Poor Christopher Sly woke in the morning to find his glory gone. The
sun shone on the snow-covered gables of Bruges. He looked around him
with woe