You and you no cross shall part : Or have a woman to your lord: How thus we niet, and these things finish. Wedding is great Juno's crown: O blessed bond of board and bed! With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall. 140 The duke hath put on a religious life Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. 191 [To duke] You to your former honour I bequeath; Your patience and your virtue well deserves it: [To Oli.] You to your land and love and great 150 [To Sil.] You to a long and well-deserved bed: Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art Is but for two months victuall'd. So, to your to me! Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree. Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. Enter JAQUES DE BOYS. Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or two: 170 I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, pleasures: I am for other than for dancing measures. 200 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, As we do trust they'll end, in true delights, EPILOGUE. [A dance. Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; 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, therefore 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 you and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women-as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hates 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 curtsy, bid Play, music! And you, brides and bridegrooms all, me farewell. [Exeunt. SCENE I. 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. Ye 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, Jeronimy: go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. IO Host. I know ny remedy; I must go fetch the third-borough. [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. [Falls asleep. Horns winded. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his train. Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds: +Brach 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: 20 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. 30 Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe? Sec. Hun. He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd with ale, This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. TRANIO, BIONDELLO, } servants to Lucentio. GRUMIO, servants to Petruchio. CURTIS, A Pedant. KATHARINA, the shrew,} daughters to Baptista. BIANCA, Widow. Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Baptista and Petruchio. SCENE: Padua, and Petruchio's country house. Lord. O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies! Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image! A most delicious banquet by his bed, 4I Sec. Hun. It would seem strange unto him. when he waked. Lord. Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy. 50 Then take him up and manage well the jest: бо '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, 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 70 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: [Exit Servingman. Belike, some noble gentleman that means, Travelling some journey, to repose him here. Re-enter Servingman. How now! who is it? Serv. Enter Players. 80 Now, fellows, you are welcome. Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I re- Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son: A Player. I think 'twas Soto that your honour means. 90 Lord. 'Tis very true: thou didst it excellent. A Player. Fear not, my lord: we can contain Were he the vériest antic in the world. 100 Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, And call him 'madam,' do him obeisance. [Exit a Servingman. I know the boy will well usurp the grace, When they do homage to this simple peasant. SCENE II. A bedchamber in the Lord's house. Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale. Sec. Serv. Will't please your honour taste of Third Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to day? Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me 'honour' nor lordship:' I ne'er 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, sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather. Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your O, that a mighty man of such descent, Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burtonheath, by birth a pedlar, by education a cardmaker, 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 pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the lyingest knave in Christendom. What! I am not be110 straught: here's And say And with declining head into his bosom, 120 Third Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn! Sec. Serv. O, this is it that makes your servants droop! Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house, 30 As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. And twenty caged nightingales do sing: As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. Adonis painted by a running brook, Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, | My men should call me 'lord:' I am your good Even as the waving sedges play with wind. Lord. We'll show thee Io as she was a maid, And how she was beguiled and surprised, Third Serv. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds, 60 And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, Thou hast a lady far more beautiful First Serv. And till the tears that she hath shed for thee Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face, Sly. Am I a lord? and have I such a lady? 70 I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things: And not a tinker nor Christophero Sly. Sec. Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands? 79 O, how we joy to see your wit restored! Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd And slept above some fifteen year or 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. 121 Page. Thrice-noble lord, let me entreat of you To pardon me yet for a night or two, Or, if not so, until the sun be set: For your physicians have expressly charged, In peril to incur your former malady, That I should yet absent me from your bed: I hope this reason stands for my excuse. 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. 130 Enter a Messenger. Mess. Your honour's players, hearing your amendment, Are come to play a pleasant comedy; And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy: 141 Page. No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff. Sly. What, household stuff? Sly. Well, we'll see't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger. Flourish. ACT I. SCENE I. Padua. A public place. Enter LUCENTIO and his man TRANIO. A merchant of great traffic through the world, Tra. Mi perdonato, gentle master mine, Glad that you thus continue your resolve 10 20 Hor. Mates, maid! how mean you that? no mates for you, Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. 60 Kath. I'faith, sir, you shall never need to fear: I wis it is not half way to her heart; But if it were, doubt not her care should be Tra. Hush, master! here's some good pastime toward: That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward. Luc. But in the other's silence do I see Maid's mild behaviour and sobriety. Peace, Tranio ! 70 Tra. Well said, master; mum! and gaze your fill. Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good What I have said, Bianca, get you in: And let it not displease thee, good Bianca, For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl. Kath. A pretty peat! it is best Put finger in the eye, an she knew why. Bian. Sister, content you in my discontent. 80 Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe: My books and instruments shall be my company, On them to look and practise by myself. Luc. Hark, Tranio! thou may'st hear Minerva speak. Hor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange? Sorry am I that our good will effects Bianca's grief. Gre. Why will you mew her up, 30 Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell, 40 Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you; Tra. Master, some show to welcome us to town. Enter BAPTISTA, KATHARINA, BIANCA, GREMIO, and HORTENSIO. LUCENTIO and TRANIO stand by. 50 Bap. Gentlemen, importune me no farther, There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife? Kath. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not? What, shall I be appointed hours; as though, belike, I knew not what to take, and what to leave, ha? [Exit. Gre. You may go to the devil's dam: your gifts are so good, here's none will hold you. blow our nails together, and fast it fairly out: Their love is not so great, Hortensio, but we may our cake's dough on both sides. Farewell: yet, for the love I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit man to teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father. Hor. So will I, Signior Gremio: but a word, I pray. Though the nature of our quarrel yet never brooked parle, know now, upon advice, it toucheth us both, that we may yet again have access to our fair mistress and be happy rivals in Bianca's love, to labour and effect one thing specially. Gre. What's that, I pray? 121 |