Imagens das páginas


A Lord.
CHRISTOPHER Sly, a tinker.

Persons in the
Hostess, Page, Players, Huntsmen, and Servants. ) Induction.
BAPTISTA, a rich gentleman of Padua.
Vincentio, an old gentleman of Pisa.
LUCENTIO, son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca.
Petrucio, a gentleman of Verona, a suitor to Katharina.

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Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Baptista and Petrucio.

SCENE—sometimes in Padua, and sometimes in Petrucio's house in the country.




Before an alehouse on a heath.

Enter Hostess and Sly.
Sly. I'll pheeze you, in faith.
Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue !

Sly. Y'are a baggage: the Slys are no rogues; look in the Chronicles, we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore, paucas pallabris; let the world slide: sessa !

Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?

Sly. No, not a denier. Go by, Saint (1) Jeronimy,-go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.

Host. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the thirdborough.(*)

[Exit. Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy: let him come, and kindly.

[Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep. Horns winded. Enter a Lord from hunting, with Huntsmen and

Servants. Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds: Brach (3) Merriman,—the poor cur is emboss'd; And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach. 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.

First Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;

He cried upon it at the merest loss,
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.
But sup them well, and look unto them all :
To-morrow I intend to hunt again.

First Hun. I will, my lord.
Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he

Sec. Hun. He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd

with ale,
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.
What think you, if he were convey'd to bed,
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?

First Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.
Sec. Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he wak’d.

Lord. Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy.
Then take him up, and manage well the jest:-
Carry him gently to my fairest chamber,
And hang it round with all my wanton pictures :
Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet:
Procure me music ready when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound;
And if he chance to speak, be ready straight,
And, with a low submissive reverence,
Say,—What is it your honour will command ?
Let one attend him with a silver basin
Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers ;
Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,
And say,– Will’t please your lordship cool your hands?
Some one be ready with a costly suit,

And ask him what apparel he will wear;
Another tell him of his hounds and horse,
And that his lady mourns at his disease :
Persuade him that he hath been lunatic;
And, when he says he is(4), say that he dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty lord.
This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs :
It will be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modesty.

First Hun. My lord, I warrant you, we will play our part,
As he shall think, by our true diligence,
He is no less than what we say he is.

Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with him; And each one to his office when he wakes.

[Sly is borne out. A trumpet sounds. Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds :

[Exit Servant. Belike, some noble gentleman, that means, Travelling some journey, to repose him here.

Re-enter Servant.
How now! who is it?

An it please your honour,
Players that offer service to your lordship.

Lord. Bid them come near.

Enter Players.

Now, fellows, you are welcome.
Players. We thank your honour.
Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night?
Sec. Play. So please your lordship to accept our duty.

Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember,
Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son :
'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well:
I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part
Was aptly fitted and naturally perform’d.

First Play. I think 'twas Soto that your honour means.

Lord. 'Tis very true: thou didst it excellent.Well, you are come to me in happy time;

The rather for I have some sport in hand,
Wherein your cunning can assist me inuch.
There is a lord will hear you play to-night:
But I am doubtful of your modesties;
Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour
(For yet his honour never heard a play),
You break into some merry passion,
And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs,
If you should smile, he grows impatient.

First Play. Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves, Were he the veriest antic in the world.

Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, And give them friendly welcome every one : Let them want nothing that my house affords.

[Exeunt Servant and Players. Sirrah, go you to Barthol'mew my page, [To a Serrant. And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady: That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber; And call him madam, do him obeisance. Tell him from me (as he will win my love), He bear himself with honourable action, Such as he hath obsery'd in noble ladies Unto their lords, by them accomplished: Such duty to the drunkard let him do, With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy ; And say,—What is't your honour will command, Wherein your lady and your humble wife May show her duty and make known her love? And then—with kind embracements, tempting kisses, And with declining head into his bosom,– Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd To see her noble lord restor'd to health, Who for this seven () years hath esteemed him No better than a poor and loathsome beggar : And if the boy have not a woman's gift To rain a shower of commanded tears, An onion will do well for such a shift; Which in a napkin being close convey'd, Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.

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