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Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
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,

As lively painted as the deed was done.

3 Serv. Or, Daphne roaming through 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'erran her lovely face,

She was the fairest creature in the world;

And yet she is inferior to none.

Sly. Am I a lord, and have I such a lady?
Or do I dream? Or have I dreamed till now?
I do not sleep; I see, I hear, I speak;

I smell sweet savors, and I feel soft things:-
Upon my life, I am a lord, indeed;

And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly.-
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;
And once again, a pot o'the smallest ale.

2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands?
[Servants present a ewer, basin, and napkin.
O, how we joy to see your wit restored!
O, that once more you knew but what you are!
These fifteen years you have been in a dream;
Or, when you waked, so waked 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, 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 sealed 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 reckoned up,

As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, 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, 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? 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.

Lord. Madam.

What must I call her?

Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam?

Lord. Madam, and nothing else; so lords call ladies.
Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dreamed and slept

Above some fifteen year and more.

Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me;

Being all this time abandoned 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 Servant.

Serv. Your honor'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 congealed 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 commonty

a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick?

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.

[They sit down.

ACT I.

SCENE I. Padua. A public Place.
Enter LUCENTIO and 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 armed
With his good will, and thy good company,
Most trusty servant, well approved in all;
Here let us breathe, and happily 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
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 perdonate, 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 ethics,
As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured:

Balke 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 awhile; What company is this?

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

Enter BAPTISTA, KATHARINA, BIANCA, GREMIO, and HOR-
TENSIO. LUCENTIO and TRANIO stand aside.

Bap. Gentlemen, importune me no further,
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,
Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure.
Gre. To cart her rather; she's too rough for me.-
There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife?

Kath. I pray you, sir, [To BAP.] 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-legged 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!

Tra. Hush, master! here is some good pastime toward; That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward.

Luc. But in the other's silence I do see

Maid's mild behavior 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! 'tis best

Put finger in the eye, -an she knew why.
Bian. Sister, content you in my discontent.-
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 mayst hear Minerva speak.

[Aside.

Hor. Seignior Baptista, will you be so strange?
Sorry am I that our good will effects
Bianca's grief.

Gre.

Why, will you mew her up,
Seignior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,

And make her bear the penance of her tongue?
Bap. Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolved.-
Go in, Bianca.

And for I know she taketh most delight
In music, instruments, and poetry,

[Exit BIANCA.

Schoolmasters will I keep within my house,
Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio,
Or, seignior Gremio, you, know any such,
Prefer them hither; for to cunning men

I will be very kind, and liberal

To mine own children in good bringing up;
And so farewell. Katharina, you may stay;
For I have more to commune with Bianca.

[Exit.
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 is none will hold you. Their love is not so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together, and fast it fairly out; our cake's dough on both sides. Farewellyet, 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, seignior 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 labor and effect one thing 'specially.

Gre. What's that, I pray?

Hor. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister.

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