Scene, sometimes in Padua, and sometimes in Scene, Athens; and sometimes Ferando's CounPetruchio's House in the Country.
SCENE I-Before an Alehouse on a Heath. Enter Hostess and Sly.
I'LL pheesel you, in faith.
Host. 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, paucas pallabris,2 let the world slide: Sessa!3
Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst 24
Sly. No, not a denier: Go by, says Jeronimy; Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.5 Host. I know my remedy, I must go fetch the thirdborough.6 [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.
[Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep. (2) Few words.
(1) Beat or knock.
(3) Be quiet. (4) Broke.
(5) This line and the scrap of Spanish is used in burlesque from an old play called Hieronymo, or the Spanish Tragedy.
Wind horns. Enter a Lord from hunting, with Huntsmen and Servants.
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.
1 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:
Trust me,
I take him for the better dog.
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.
1 Hun. I will, my lord.
Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?
2 Hun. 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
Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image!
(6) An officer whose authority equals a constable. (7) Bitch. (8) Strained.
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 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot||
choose.
2 Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd.
Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worthless fancy.
Then take him up, and manage well the jest:-
Carry him gently to my fairest chamber,
And hang it round with all my wanton pictures:
Balm his foul head with warm distilled waters,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet:
Procure me music ready when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound;
And if he chance to speak, be ready straight,
And, with a low submissive reverence,
Say,-What is it your honour will command?
Let one attend him with a silver bason,
Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers;
Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,2
And say,-Will't please your lordship cool your
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,3 gentle sirs;
It will be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modesty.4
Wherein your cunning can assist me much.
There is a lord will hear you play to-night :
But I am doubtful of your modesties;
Lest, over-eyeing of his odd behaviour
(For yet his honour never heard a play,)
You break into some merry passion,
And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs,
you should smile, he grows impatient.
i Play. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves,
Were he the veriest antic in the world.
Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, And give them friendly welcome every one: Let them want nothing that my house affords.[Exeunt Servant and Players.
Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page,
To a Servant.
And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady:
That done, conduct him to the drunkard's cham-
ber,
And call him-madam, do him obeisance,
Tell him from me (as he will win my love,)
He bear himself with honourable action,
Such as he hath observ'd in noble ladies
Unto their lords, by them accomplished:
Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy;
And say,-What is't your honour will command,
Wherein your lady, and your humble wife,
May show her duty, and make known her love?
And then-with kind embracements, tempting
And with declining head into his bosom,-
Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd
To see her noble lord restor❜d to health,
Who, for twice seven years, hath esteemed him
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar:
1 Hun. My lord, I warrant you, we'll play our And if the boy have not a woman's gift,
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 :
To rain a shower of commanded tears,
An onion will do well for such a shift:
Which in a napkin being close convey'd,
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst;
Anon I'll give thee more instructions.-
[Exit Servant.
[Exit Servant.I know, the boy will well usurp the grace,
Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman:
Belike, some noble gentleman; that means, Travelling some journey, to repose him here.— Re-enter a Servant.
Now, fellows, you are welcome.
1 Play. We thank your honour. Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night? 2 Play. So please your lordship to accept our duty.
Lord. With all my heart.-This fellow I remember,
Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son;-
'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well:
I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd.
1 Play. I think, 'twas Soto that your honour
I long to hear him call the drunkard, husband; And how my men will stay themselves from
When they do homage to this simple peasant.
I'll in to counsel them: haply,5 my presence
May well abate the over-merry spleen,
Which otherwise would grow into extremes.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II-A Bedchamber in the Lord's house.
Sly is discovered in a rich nightgown, with at-
tendants; some with apparel, others with bason,
ewer, and other appurtenances. Enter Lord,
dressed like a Servant.
Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale.
1 Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup
2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these conserves?
3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear today?
Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me-honour,
Lord. 'Tis very true;-thou didst it excellent.-nor lordship: I never drank sack in my life; and Well, you are come to me in happy time;
The rather for I have some sport in hand,
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 pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the lyingest knave in Christendom. What, I am not bestraught: Here's
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,
And twenty caged nightingales do sing:
Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch,
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.
Say, thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground:
Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark: Or wilt thou hunt?
Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them,
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.
1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds
As breathed stags, ay,
2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch
thee straight
Adonis, painted by a running brook:
And Cytherea all in sedges hid;
Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.
Lord. We'll show thee lo, as she was a maid;
And how she was beguiled and surpris'd,
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.
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 an ewer, bason, and napkin.
O, 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,2 a goodly
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,3
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,—
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-
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.
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 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,
To pardon me yet for a night or two;
Or, if not so, until the sun be set :
For your physicians have expressly charg'd,
In peril to incur your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed:
1 Ser. And, till the tears that she hath shed for I hope, this reason stands for my excuse.
Like envious floods, o'er-ran 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 dream'd till now?
I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak ;
I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things
Upon my life, I am a lord, indeed;
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.
Serv. 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, 2 K
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-Before I have a husband for the elder:
trick?
Enter Baptista, Katharina, Bianca, Gremio, and
Hortensio. Lucentio and Tranio stand aside.
Bap. Gentlemen, impórtune me no further,
For how I firmly am resolv'd you know;
That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter,
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.
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-legg'd stool,
SCENE I-Padua. A Public Place. Enter And paint your face, and use you like a fool.
Luc. Tranio, since-for the great desire I had
To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,-
I am arriv'd 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,
Most trusty servant, well approv'd in all;
Here let us breathe, and happily institute
A course of learning, and ingenious2 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 his son, brought up in Florence,
It shall become, to serve all hopes conceiv'd,
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 achiev'd.
Tell me thy mind: for I have Pisa left,
And am to Padua come; as he that leaves
A shallow plash,3 to plunge him in the deep,
And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst.
Tra. Mi perdonate,4 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,5
As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd:
Talk logic with acquaintance that you have,
And practice thetoric 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.
(1) For comedy. (2) Ingenuous.
(3) Small piece of water. (4) Pardon me.
(5) Harsh rules. (6) Animate.
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
Maids' mild behaviour and sobriety.
Tra. Well said, master; mum! and gaze your
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 !9 '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 may'st hear Minerva
speak.
[Aside.
Hor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange?
Sorry am I, that our good will effects
Bianca's grief.
Why, will you mew her up,
Signier Baptista, for this fiend of hell,
And make her bear the penance of her tongue?
Bap. Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolv'd :-
Go in, Bianca.
[Exit Bianca.
And for I know, she taketh most delight
In music, instruments, and poetry,
Schoolmasters will I keep within my house,
Fit to instruct her youth.-If
you, Hortensio,
Or signior Gremio, you,-know any such,
Prefer them hither; for to cunning12 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!
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