THE

Taming of the Shrew.

Sly.

INDUCTION.

SCENE I. Enter Hotels and Sly.
"LL pheeze you, in faith.

I

Hoft. A pair of stocks, you rogue,

Sly. Y'are a baggage; the Slies are no rogues Look in the Chronicles, we came in with Richard Conqueror; therefore * paucus pallabris,

let the world flide: Seffa.

Hoft. You will not pay for the glaffes you have burst ? Sly. No, not a deniere: † go by, Jeronymo,

thy cold bed and warm thee.

go to

Hoft. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the Thirdborough.

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

SCENE II.

[Falls afleep.

Wind borns. Enter a Lord from bunting, with a train. Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee tender well my hounds Leech Merriman, the poor cur is imbost;

He means to fay, pocas palabras.'

t Go by, Jeronymo, was a kind of by-word in the Author's days, as appears by its being used in the fame manner by Ben, Johnson, Beaumont and Fletcher, and other Writers near that time. It arofe firft from a paffage in an old Play call'd Hieronymo or The Spanish Tragedy

And

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 lofe the dog for twenty pound.

Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;
He cried upon it at the meereft lofs,

And twice to-day pick'd out the dulleft fcent :
Truft me, I take him for the better dog.

Lord. Thou art a fool; if Eccho were as fleet,
I would efteem him worth a dozen fuch.
But fup them well, and look unto them all,
To-morrow I intend to hunt again.

Hun. I will, my Lord.

Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? fee, doth he breathe?

2 Hun. He breathes, my Lord. Were he not warm'd This were a bed, but cold, to fleep fo foundly.

[with ale,
Lord. O monftrous beaft! how like a fwine he lyes!
Grim death, how foul and loathfome is thine image!
Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.
What think you if he were convey'd to bed,
Wrapt in fweet cloaths; rings put upon his fingers;
A moft delicious banquet by his bed,

And brave attendants near him when he wakes ;
Would not the beggar then forget himself?

1 Hun. Believe me, Lord, I think he cannot chufe. 2 Hun. It would feem ftrange unto him when he wak’d. Lord. Even as a flatt'ring dream, or worthless fancy. Then take him up, and manage well the jeft: Carry him gently to my fairest chamber,

And hang it round with all my wanton pictures ;
Balm his foul head with warm diftilled waters,
And burn fweet wood to make the lodging (weet.
Procure me mufick ready when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heav'nly found;
And if he chance to fpeak, be ready ftraight,
And with a low fubmiffive reverence,
Say, what is it your honour will command ?
Let one attend him with a filver bafon
Full of rofe-water, and beftrew'd with flowers.

Another

Another bear the ewer; a third a diaper,

And fay, will't please your lordship cool your hands?
Some one be ready with a coftly fuit,
And ask him what apparel he will wear;
Another tell him of his hounds and horses,
And that his Lady mourns at his disease;
Perfwade him that he hath been lunatick.
And when he fays he's poor, fay that he dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty lord:

This do, and do it kindly, gentle Sirs:
It will be paftime paffing excellent,

If it be hufbanded with modefty.

1 Hun. My Lord, I warrant you we'll play our part, As he fhall think, by our true diligence,

He is no lefs than what we fay he is..

Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with him And each one to his office when he wakes. [Sound Trumpets. Sirrah, go fee what trumpet 'tis that founds.

[Sly is carried off. Belike fome noble gentleman that means, Travelling fome journey, to repose him here. SCENE III. Enter Servant.]

How now? who is it?

Serv. Pleafe your honour, Players That offer fervice to your lordship.

Lord. Well,

Bid them come near :

Enter Players

Now, fellows, you are welcome.

Play. We thank your honour.

Lord. Do you intend to ftay with me to-night?
2 Play. So pleafe your lordship to accept our duty.
Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember,
Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest fon;

'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman fo well:
I have forgot your name; but fure that part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd.

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

The rather for I have fome sport in hand,
Wherein your cunning can affift me much.
There is a lord will hear you play to-night s
But I am doubtful of your modefties,
Left over-eying of his odd behaviour,
(For yet his honour never heard a play,)
You break into fome merry paffion,
And fo offend him: for I tell you, Sirs,
If you should fmile, he grows impatient.

Play. Fear not, my lord; we can contain our felves,
Were he the veriest antick in the world.

2 Play. [To the other.] Go get a difhclout to make clean your fhoes,

And I'll fpeak for the properties.

My lord, [Exit Player.

We must have a fhoulder of mutton, and
Some vinegar to make our devil roar.

Lord. Go, firrah, take them to the buttery,
Let them want nothing that the house affords.

[Exit one with the Players.

Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page,
And fee him dreft in all fuits like a lady:
That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber,
And call him Madam, do him all obeifance.
Tell him from me, (as he will win my love)
He bear himself with honourable action,
Such as he hath obferv'd in noble ladies,
Unto their lords by them accomplished;
Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
With foft low tongue, and lowly courtefie;
And fay; what is't your honour will command,
Wherein your lady, and your humble wife,
May fhew her duty, and make known her love?
And then with kind embracements, tempting kiffes,
And with declining head into his bofom,

Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd
To fee her noble lord reftor'd to health,

Who for twice feven years hath esteem'd himself
No better than a poor and loathfome beggar:
And if the boy have not a woman's gift
Torain a fhower of commanded tears,

An onion will do well for fuch a fhift,
Which in a napkin being close convey'd,
Shall in defpight enforce a watʼry eye.

See this dispatch'd with all the hafte thou canft,
Anon I'll give thee more inftructions.

Iknow the boy will well ufurp the grace,

[Exit Servant,

Voice, gate, and action of a gentlewoman.
I long to hear him call the drunkard husband,
And how my men will ftay themselves from laughter,
When they do homage to this fimple peasant ;
I'll in to courfel them: haply my presence
May well abate the over-merry fpleen,
Which otherwife would go into extreams.

[Exit Lord

SCENE IV. A Bed-chamber in the Lord's House. Enter Sly with attendants, fome with apparel, balon and ewer, and other appurtenances. Re-enter Lord.

Sly. For God's fake a pot of fmall ale.

1 Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of fack? 2 Serv. Will't please your honour tafte of these conferves 3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day? Sly. I am Chriftophero Sly, call not me honour, nor lordfhip: I ne'er drank fack in my life: and if you give me any conferves, give me conferves of beef: ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more ftockings than legs, nor no more fhoes than feet, nay fometimes more feet than thoes, or fuch fhoes as my toes look through the overleather.

Lord. Heav'n cease this idle humour in your honour
Oh, that a mighty man of fuch defcent,
Of fuch poffeffions, and fo high esteem,
Should be infufed with fo foul a fpirit!

Sly. What, would you make me mad? am not I Chriftophero Sly, old Sly's fon of Burton-beath, by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by tranfmutation a bearherd, and now by prefent profeffion a tinker? ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if the know me not; if the fay I am not fourteen-pence on the fcore for fheer-ale, fcore me up for the lying'ft knave in Chriftendom. What?not beftraught: here's

-I am

Į Man. Oh, this it is that makes your lady mourn.