King. [Reads.] Upon his many protestations to marry me, when his wife was dead, I blush to say it, he won Now is the count Rousillon a widower; his vows are forfeited to me, and my honour's paid to him. He stole from Florence, taking no leave, and I follow him to his country for justice: Grant it me, Ő king; in you it best lies; otherwise a seducer flourishes, and a poor DIANA CAPULET. Laf. I will buy me a son-in-law in a fair, and toll him for this, I'll none of him.

King. As thou art a knave, and no knave :-
What an equivocal companion is this?
Par. I am a poor man, and at your majesty's
command.

Laf. He's a good drum, my lord, but a naughty

orator.

Dia. Good mother, fetch my bail.-Stay, royal sir; [Exit Widow.

The jeweller, that owes the ring, is sent for, And he shall surety me. But for this lord, Who hath abus'd me, as he knows himself, Though yet he never harm'd me, here I quit him: Dia. Do you know, he promised me marriage? He knows himself my bed he hath defil'd; Par. 'Faith, I know more than I'll speak. And at that time he got his wife with child: King. But wilt thou not speak all thou know'st? Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick; Par. Yes, so please your majesty; I did go between So there's my riddle, One, that's dead, is quick; them, as I said; but more than that, he loved her,-And now behold the meaning. for, indeed, he was mad for her, and talked of Satan, and of limbo, and of furies, and I know not what: yet I was in that credit with them at that time, that I knew of their going to bed; and of other motions, as promising her marriage, and things that would derive me ill-will to speak of, therefore I will not speak what I

know.

King. Thou hast spoken all already, unless thou
canst say they are married: But thou art too fine in
thy evidence; therefore stand aside.-
This ring, you say, was yours?
Dia.

Ay, my good lord.
King. Where did you buy it? or who gave it you?
Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not buy it.
King. Who lent it you?
Dia.
It was not lent me neither.
King. Where did you find it then?
Dia.
I found it not.
King. If it were yours by none of all these ways,
How could you give it him?
Dia.

I never gave it him. Laf. This woman's an easy glove, my lord; she goes off and on at pleasure.

King. This ring was mine, I gave it his first wife.
Dia. It might be yours, or hers, for aught I know.
King. Take her away, I do not like her now;
To prison with her and away with him.-
Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this ring,
Thou diest within this hour.
Dia.

I'll never tell you.

King. Take her away.
Dia.
I'll put in bail, my liege.
King. I think thee now some common customer.
Dia. By Jove, if ever I knew man, 'twas you.
King. Wherefore hast thou accus'd him all this

while?

Dia. Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty :
He knows I am no maid, and he 'll swear to't:
I'll swear I am a maid, and he knows not.
Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life;
I am either maid, or else this old man's wife.

[Pointing to LAFEU. King. She does abuse our ears; to prison with her.

Re-enter Widow, with HELENA.

King.
Is there no exorcist
Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes?
Is't real, that I see?
Hel.
No, my good lord;
'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see,
The name, and not the thing.

Ber.

Both, both; O, pardon!
Hel. O, my good lord, when I was like this maid,
I found you wond'rous kind. There is your ring,
And, look you, here's your letter; This it says,
When from my finger you can get this ring,
And are by me with child, &c.-This is done:
Will you be mine, now you are doubly won?
Ber. If she, my liege, can make me know this
I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly. [clearly.
Hel. If it appear not plain, and prove untrue,
Deadly divorce step between me and you!-
O, my dear mother, do I see you living?

Laf. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep anon:Good Tom Drum, [to PAROLLES.] lend me a handkerchief: So, I thank thee; wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee: Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones.

King. Let us from point to point this story know,
To make the even truth in pleasure flow :-
If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped flower, [To DIANA.
Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy dower;
For I can guess, that, by thy honest aid,
Thou kept'st a wife herself, thyself a maid.-
Of that and all the progress, more and less,
Resolvedly more leisure shall express:
All yet seems well; and, if it end so meet,
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. [Flourish.
(Advancing.)

The king's a beggar, now the play is done:
All is well ended, if this suit be won,
That you express content; which we will pay,
With strife to please you, day exceeding day :
Ours be your patience tren and yours our parts;
Your gentle hands lend us, and take our hearts. [Exeunt.

THIS play has many delightful scenes, though not sufficiently probable, and some happy characters, though not new, nor produced by any deep knowledge of human nature. Parolles is a boaster and a coward, such as has always been the sport of the stage, but perhaps never raised more laughter or contempt than in the hands of Shakspeare.

I cannot reconcile my heart to Bertram; a man noble without generosity, and young without truth; who marries Helen

as a coward, and leaves her as a profligate: when she is dead by his unkindness, sneaks home to a second marriage, is accused by a woman whom he has wronged, defends himself by falsehood and is dismissed to happiness.

The story of Bertram and Diana had been told before of Mariana and Angelo, and, to confess the truth, scarcely merited to be heard a second time.-JOHNSON.

MR. MALONE supposes this comedy to have been written in 1596. It is founded on an anonymous play of nearly the same title, "The Taming of a shrew," which was probably written about the year 1590, either by George Peele, or Robert Green. The outline of the induction may be traced, as Mr. Douce observes, through many intermediate copies, to the Sleeper Awaked of the Arabian Nights. It has been doubted by Dr. Warburton and Dr. Farmer whether this comedy is really the production of Shakspeare. They have no other grounds for i

their opinion, but the inferiority of its style. The play, as whole, is certainly not in our author's best manner, but in the induction and in the scenes between Katharine and Petruchio the traces of his hand are strongly marked. If it be not Shak speare's, to whom can it be attributed? Beaumont and Fletcher have written a sequel to this comedy, called "The Woman's Prize, or the lamer l'amed," in which a character bearing the name of Petruchio (for nothing but the name remains to him,) is subdued by a second wife.

BAPTISTA, a rich gentleman of Padua.

VINCENTIO, an old gentleman of Pisa.

Persons in the
Induction.

LUCENTIO, son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca.
PETRUCHIO, a gentleman of Verona, suitor to Katharina.
GREMIO, HORTENSIO, suitors to Bianca.
TRANIO, BIONDELLO, servants to Lucentio.
GRUMIO, CURTIS, servants to Petruchio.

Pedant, an old fellow set up to personate Vincentio.

KATHARINA, the shrew; daughters to Baptista.
BIANCA, her sister,

Widow.

Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on
Baptista and Petruchio.

SCENE,-sometimes in PADUA; and sometimes in
PETRUCHIO'S House in the Country.

INDUCTION.

SCENE I.-Before an Alehouse on a Heath.
Enter Hostess and SLY.

Sly. I'll pheese 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; let the

world slide: Sessa!

Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst!

Sly. No, not a denier: Go by, says Jeronimy; Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. Host. I know my remedy, I must go fetch the thirdborough. [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. Wind horns. Enter a LORD from hunting, with Huntsmen and Servants.

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.

he breathe?

Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth [with ale, 2 Hun. He breathes, my lord: Were he not warm'd This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.

Lord. O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies!
Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image!
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,
And say-Will't please your lordship cool your
Some one be ready with a costly suit, [hands ↑
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.

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

Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my He is no less than what we say he is.

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?
would not lose the dog for twenty pound.

;

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 Servant. Belike, some noble gentleman: that means,

1 Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; Travelling some journey, to repose him here.—

[Exit Serv.

Which in a napkin being close conveyed,
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst;
Anon I'll give thee more instructions.-
I know, the boy will well usurp the grace,
Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman:
I long to hear him call the drunkard, husband;
And how my men will stay themselves from laughter,
When they do homage to this simple peasant.
I'll in to unsel them: haply, my presence
May well abate their 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 night-gown, with Atten-
dants; some with apparel, others with bason, ewer,

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;
And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly.-
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale. [hands?
2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash your
[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.
Sty. 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 seal'd quarts:
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.

[maid;

3 Serv. Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such
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?
Sty. 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 mywife, andwil. not call me-husband?
My men should call me-lord; I am your goodman.
Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and hus-
I am your wife in all obedience.

[band;

Sly. I know it well :-What must I call her?
Lord. Madam.

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
Above some fifteen year and more.

[slept

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:
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 honour's players, hearing your amend-
Are come to play a pleasant comedy, [ment,
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 monty 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 neʼer 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 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 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 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
By virtue 'specially to be achiev'd.
Will I apply, that treats of happiness
And am to Padua come; as he that leaves
Tell me thy mind: for I have Pisa left,
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.
This virtue, and this moral discipline,
Only, good master, while we do admire
Let's be no stoics, nor no stocks, I pray;
Or so devote to Aristotle's checks,
As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd:
And practise rhetoric in your common talk:
Talk logic with acquaintance that you have,
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;
Such friends, as time in Padua shall beget.
And take a lodging, fit to entertain
But stay awhile: What company is this?

Tra. Master, some show, to welcome us to town.
Enter BAPTISTA, KATHARINA, BIANCA, GREMIO, ara
HORTENSIO. LUCENTIO and TRANIO stand asias.
Bap. Gentlemen, impórtune me no further,
For how I firmly am resolv'd 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.