Keep you your word, O duke, to give your daughter;- Oria. My lord, the first time that I ever saw him, Enter Touchstone and Audrey. Jaq. There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the ark! Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools Touch. Salutation and greeting to you all! Jaq. Good my lord, bid him welcome; This is the motley-minded gentleman, that I have so often met in the forest he hath been a courtier, he swears. Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put me to my purgation. I have trod a measure; I have flattered a lady; I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy; I have undone three tailors; I have had four quarrels, and like to have fought one. Jaq. And how was that ta'en up? Touch. 'Faith, we met, and found the quarrel was upon the seventh cause. Jaq. How seventh cause?-Good my lord, like this fellow. Duke S. I like him very well. Touch. God ild you, sir; I desire you of the like. I press in here, sir, amongst the rest of the country cop. ulatives, to swear, and to forswear; according as marriage binds, and blood breaks :-A poor virgin, sir, an ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own; a poor humour of mine, sir, to take that that no man else will: Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor-house; as your pearl, in your foul oyster. Duke S. By my faith, he is very swift and senten tions. Touch. According to the fool's bolt, sir, and such duleet diseases. Jaq. But, for the seventh cause; how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause? Touch. Upon a lie seven times removed ;-Bear your body more scerning, Audrey :-as thus, sir. I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard; he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was: This is called the Retort courteous. If I sent him word again, it was not well cut, he would send me word, he cut it to please himself: This is call. ed the Quip modest. If again. it was not well cut, he disabled my judgement: This is called the Reply churlish. If again, it was not well cut, he would answer, I spake not true: This is called the Reproof valiant. If again, it was not well cut, he would say, I lie: This is called the Countercheck quarrelsome : and 10 to the Lie circumstantial, and the Lie direct. Jaq. And how oft did you say, his beard was not well ent? Touch. I durst go no farther than the Lie circumstantial, nor he durst not give me the Lie direct; and to we measured swords, and parted. Jaq. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? Touch. O sir, we quarrel in print, by the book; as you have books for good manners: I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort courteous; the se cond, the Quip modest; the third, the Reply churlish; the fourth, the Reproof valiant; the fifth, the Countercheck quarrelsome: the sixth, the Lie with circumstance; the seventh, the Lie direct. All these you may avoid, but the Lie direct; and you may avoid that too, with an If. I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel; but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as If you said so, then I said so; and they shook hands, and swore brothers. Your If is the only peace-maker; much virtue in If. Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord? he's as good at any thing, and yet a fool. Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that, he shoots his wit. Enter Hymen, leading Rosalind in woman's clothes and Celia. Still Music. Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven, Good duke, receive thy daughter, Yea, brought her hither; That thou might'st join her hand with his, Ros. To you I give myself, for I am yours. -To you I give myself, for I am yours. Duke S. If there be truth in sight, daughter. 3 [To Duke S. [To Orla. you are my Orla. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind. Phe. If sight and shape be true, Why, then, my love, adieu! Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he: [To Oliver and Celia. [To Phebe. -You to his love must accord, Wedding is great Juno's crown; Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me; Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word, or two; Duke S. That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us, Play, music;-and you brides and bridegrooms all, And thrown into neglect the pompous court? Your patience, and your virtue, well deserves it :- [To Orlando. -You to your land, and love, and great allies: [To Oli. -You to a long and well-deserved bed: [To Silv. -And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage [To Touch Is but for two months victuall'd:-So to your pleasures; I am for other than for dancing measures. Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay. Jaq. To see no pastime, I: what you would have I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. [Exit. Duke S. Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites, And we do trust they'll end in true delights. EPILOGUE. [A Dance. Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epi logue: but it is no more unhandsome, than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true, that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true, that a good play needs no epilogue: Yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play? I am not furnished like a beggar, there fore to beg will not become me: my way is, to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please them: and so I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hate them,) that between you and the women, the play may please. If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me, and breaths that I defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make curt'sy, bid me farewell. [Exeunt. Petruchio, a gentleman of Verona, a suitor to Katha- Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants, attending on Bap rina. Gremio, suitors to Bianca. Hortensio, Tranio, Biondello, servants to Lucentio. tista and Petruchio. SCENE-sometimes in Padua; and sometimes in Petruchio's house in the country. Brach Merriman,-the poor cur is emboss'd, 1 Hunt. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; Lord. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fleet, 1 Hunt. I will, my lord. Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe? 2 Hunt. 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? 1 Hunt. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose: 2 Hunt. It would seem strange unto him, when he wak'd. Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worthless fancy. And say,-Will't please your lordship cool your hands? It will be pastime passing excellent, If it be husbanded with modesty. See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst; Anon I'll give thee more instructions.-[Exit Servant, I know, the boy will well usurp the grace, Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman: 1 Hunt. My lord, I warrant you, we'll play our part, I long to hear him call the drunkard, husband ; 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. [Some bear out Sly. A trumpet sounds. Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds :Belike, some noble gentleman; that means, [Ex. Serv. Travelling some journey, to repose him here. Re-enter a Servant. How now? who is it? Serv. An it please your honour, players Lord. Bid them come near:- Now, fellows, you are welcome. 1 Play. I think, 'twas Soto that your honour means. And how my men will stay themselves from laughter, a servant. Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale. 1 Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack? 2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these conserves? 3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day? Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me-honour, nor lordship: I never drank sack in my life; and if you give me any conserves, give me conserves of beef: Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay, sometimes, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather. Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour! O, that a mighty man, of such descent, Of such possessions, and so high esteem, Should be infused with so foul a spirit! Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-Heath; by birth a pedler, by education a card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen 1 Play. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves, pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the Were he the veriest antick in the world. Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, And call him-madam, do him obeisance. lyingest knave in Christendom. straught Here's— What, I am not be 1 Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn. 2 Serv. O, this it is that makes your servants droop. Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shun your house, As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. O, noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth; Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, And 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 couch, On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. 1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. 2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight Adonis, painted by a running brook: Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, Lord. We'll show thee Io, as she was a maid; 3 Serv. Or Daphne, roaming though a thorny wood; Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds: And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord: Thou hast a lady far more beautiful Than any woman in this waning age. 1 Serv. And, till the tears that she hath shed for thee, Like envious floods o'er-ran her lovely face, And yet she is inferior to none. Sly. Am I a lord? and have I such a lady? I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things:- [napkin. 2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands? [Servants present an ewer, bason, and 0, how we joy to see your wit restor❜d! O, that once more you knew but what you are! These fifteen years you have been in a dream; Or, when you wak'd, so wak'd, as if you slept. Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap, But did I never speak of all that time? 1 Serv. O, yes, my lord! but very idle words: For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, Yet would you say, you were beaten out of door: And rail upon the hostess of the house; And say, you would present her at the leet, Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts: Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house. 3 Serv. Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such maid; Nor no such men, as you have reckon❜d up,- And twenty more such names and men as these, Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends! Sly. I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it. Enter the Page, as a Lady, with Attendants. Page. How fares my noble lord? Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough. Where is my wife? Page. Here, noble lord; What is thy will with her? Sty. Are you my wife, and will not call me--husband? My men should call me-lord; I am your good-man. Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband; I am your wife in all obedience. Sly. I know it well: What must I call her? Sly. Above some fifteen year and 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 you, and come now to-bed. Page. Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you, 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 Servant. Serv. Your honour's players, hearing your amend ment, Are come to play a pleasant comedy, For so your doctors hold it very meet: Sly. Marry, I will; let them play it: is not a com- Sly. Well, we'll see't: Come, madam wife, sit by my side, and let the world slip; we shall ne'er be younger. [They sit down. m ACT L SCENE I-Padua. A Public Place. Enter Lucentio and Tranio. Lucentio. TRANIO, since-for the great desire I had I am arriv'd for fruitful Lombardy, And, by my father's love and leave, am arm'd Vincentio his son, brought up in Florence, |