Enter a Gentleman. King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings. Gent. Gracious sovereign, Whether I have been to blame, or no, I know not; Here's a petition from a Florentine, Who hath, for four or five removes, come short To tender it herself. I undertook it, Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech Of the poor suppliant, who by this, I know, Is here attending: her business looks in her With an important visage; and she told me, In a sweet verbal brief, it did concern Your highness with herself. me. 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. maid is undone. King. The heavens have thought well on thee, Lafeu, To bring forth this discovery.-Seek these suitors :Go, speedily, and bring again the count. [Exeunt Gentleman, and some Attendants. I am afeard, the nie oi ñelen, lady, Was foully snatch'd. Count. Now, justice on the doers! Enter BERTRAM, guarded. King. I wonder, sir, since wives are monsters to you, And that you fly them as you swear them lordship, Yet you desire to marry.-What woman's that? Re-enter Gentleman, with Widow, and DIANA. Wid. I am her mother, sir, whose age and honour If you shall marry, You give away this hand, and that is mine; You give away heaven's vows, and those are mine; You give away myself, which is known mine; For I by vow am so embodied yours, That she, which marries you, must marry me, Either both or none. Laf. Your reputation [to BERTRAM.] comes too short for my daughter, you are no husband for her. Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate creature, Whom sometime I have laugh'd with: let your highLay a more noble thought upon mine honour, [ness Than for to think that I would sink it here. King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them ill to friend, Till your deeds gain them: Fairer prove your honour, Than in my thought it lies! Dia. Good my lord, Ask him upon his oath, if he does think He had not my virginity. King. What say'st thou to her? Ber She's impudent, my lord; King. Methought, you said, You saw one here in court could witness it. Are motives of more fancy; and, in fine, Dia. Ber. I have it not. King. What ring was yours, I pray you ? Sir, much like Dia. The same upon your finger. King. Know you this ring? this ring was his of late. Dia. And this was it I gave him, being a-bed. King. The story then goes false, you threw it him Out of a casement. Dia, I have spoke the truth. Enter PAROLLES. Ber. My lord, I do confess, the ring was hers. King. You boggle shrewdly, every feather starts Is this the man you speak of? [you.Dia. Ay, my lord. King. Tell me, sirrah, but, tell me true, I charge Not fearing the displeasure of your master, [you, (Which, on your just proceeding, I'll keep off,) By him, and by this woman here, what know you? Par. So please your majesty, my master hath beer. an honourable gentleman; tricks he hath had in him, which gentlemen have. King. Come, come, to the purpose: Did he love this woman? Par. 'Faith, sir, he did love her; But how? Par. He did love her, sir, as a gentleman loves a King. As thou art a knave, and no knave :- 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 Ay, my good lord. 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. I'll never tell you. King. Take her away. while? Dia. Because he's guilty, and he is not guilty : [Pointing to LAFEU. King. She does abuse our ears; to prison with her. Re-enter Widow, with HELENA. King. Ber. Both, both; O, pardon! 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, The king's a beggar, now the play is done: 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 LUCENTIO, son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca. Pedant, an old fellow set up to personate Vincentio. KATHARINA, the shrew; daughters to Baptista. Widow. Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on SCENE,-sometimes in PADUA; and sometimes in INDUCTION. SCENE I.-Before an Alehouse on a Heath. Sly. I'll pheese you, in faith. 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, Lord. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fleet, 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! 1 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worthless fancy. 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, ; 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.— Enter Players. 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 means. Lord. 'Tis very true;-thou didst it excellent.Well, you are come to me in happy time; The rather for I have some sport in hand, 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, ever-eying 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, If you should smile, he grows impatient. 1 Play. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourWere he the veriest antic in the world. [selves, 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, [Toa Serv. And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady: That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber, 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 accomplish'd: 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 shew her duty, and make known her love? And then-with kind embracements, tempting kisses, 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: And if the boy hath not a woman's gift, To rain a shower of commanded tears, An onion will do well for such a shift; [Exit Serv. Which in a napkin being close conveyed, 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 of sack ? [conserves ? 2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these 3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day? Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call me not honour nor lordship: I never 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, sometimes, 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, [honour! Of such possessions, and so high esteem. Should be infused with so foul a spirit! Sty. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Šly's son of Burton-heath; by birth a pedlar, 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 ain 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 As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. [house 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, [Music 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 are As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. [as swift 2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee Adonis, painted by a running brook : [straight 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 shew thee Io, as she was a maid; 3 Serv. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny wood; 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 .or thee, 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; 1 Serv. O, yes, my lord; but very idle words:- [maid; 3 Serv. Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such Sly. I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it. Enter the Page, as a lady, with Attendants. Page. Here, noble lord; What is thy will with her? [band; Sly. I know it well :-What must I call her? Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam? [slept Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me; alone Madam, undress you, and come now to bed. Enter a Servant. Serv. Your honour's players, hearing your amend- 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 Gave me my being, and my father first, Vincentio his son, brought up in Florence, Tra. Mi perdonate, gentle master mine, Luc. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise. Tra. Master, some show, to welcome us to town. |