But did I never speak of all that time?
First Serv. O, yes, my lord, but very idle words:

For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you say ye 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. 91 Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.

Third Serv. Why, sir, you know no house nor no such

maid,

Nor no such men as you have reckon❜d up,
As Stephen Sly and old John Naps of Greece
And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell

And twenty more such names and men as these
Which never were nor no man ever saw.

Sly. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!
All. Amen.

Sly. I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it.

Enter the Page as a lady, attended.

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?
Sly. Are you my wife and will not call me husband?

My men should call me 'lord': I am your
goodman.

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?

Lord. Madam.

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ΙΙΟ

Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam?

Lord. 'Madam' and nothing else: so lords call ladies.
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
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.

Enter a Messenger.

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Mess. Your honour's players, hearing your amendment, Are come to play a pleasant comedy;

For so your doctors hold it very meet,

Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood,
And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy:

Therefore they thought it good you hear a play And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life. Sly. Marry, I will, let them play it. Is not a com

onty a Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick? 140 Page. No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff.

Sly. What, household stuff?

Page. It is a kind of history.

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 FIRST.

Scene I.

Padua. A public place.

Enter Lucentio and his man Tranio.

Luc. Tranio, since for the great desire I had
To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,
I am arrived for fruitful Lombardy,
The pleasant garden of great Italy;

And by my father's love and leave am arm'd
With his good will and thy good company,
My trusty servant, well approved in all,
Here let us breathe and haply institute
A course of learning and ingenious studies.
Pisa renowned for grave citizens

Gave me my being and my father first,
A merchant of great traffic through the world,
Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii.

Vincentio's son brought up in Florence

It shall become to serve all hopes conceived,
To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds:
And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,
Virtue and that part of philosophy

Will I apply that treats of happiness

ΙΟ

By virtue specially to be achieved.
Tell me thy mind; for I have Pisa left
And am to Padua come, as he that leaves
A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep,
And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst.
Tra. Mi perdonato, gentle master mine,

I am in all affected as yourself;

Glad that you thus continue your resolve
To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy.
Only, good master, while we do admire
This virtue and this moral discipline,
Let's be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray;.
Or so devote to Aristotle's checks
As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured:

Balk logic with acquaintance that you have,
And practise rhetoric in your common talk;
Music and poesy use to quicken you;

The mathematics and the metaphysics,

Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you.
No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en:
In brief, sir, study what you most affect.

Luc. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise.
If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore,
We could at once put us in readiness,
And take a lodging fit to entertain
Such friends as time in Padua shall beget.
But stay a while: what company is this?

Tra. Master, some show to welcome us to town.

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Enter Baptista, Katharina, Bianca, Gremio, and Hortensio. Lucentio and Tranio stand by.

Bap. Gentlemen, importune me no farther,

For how I firmly am resolved you know;
That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter
Before I have a husband for the elder:
If either of you both love Katharina,
Because I know you well and love you well,

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Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure. Gre. [Aside] To cart her rather: she's too rough for

me.

There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife?

Kath. I pray you, sir, is it your will

To make a stale of me amongst these mates? Hor. Mates, maid! how mean you that? no mates for

you,

Unless you were of gentler, milder mould.
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
To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool
And paint your face and use you like a fool.
Hor. From all such devils, good Lord deliver us!
Gre. And me too, good Lord!

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Tra. Husht, 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!

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.

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