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A

WITTIE and PLEASANT

сомE DIE

CALLED

The Taming of the SHREW.

As it was acted

By his Maiesties Seruants at the Blacke

Friers and the Globe.

Written by WILL. SHAKESPEARE.

LONDON,

Printed by W. S. for Iohn Smethwicke, and are to be sold at his Shop in Saint Dunstones Church-yard

vnder the Diall. 1631.

* There was an Edition of this Comedy printed

by V. S. for Nich. Ling, 1607. There is scarce a Line of this the same with the present Play, yet the Plot and Scenery scarce differ at all from it.

Vide Warburton's Tables.

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IL

Le pheeze you infaith.

Hoft. A paire of stockes you rogue.

Beg. Yare a baggage, the Slies are no rogues. Looke in the Chronicles, wee came in with Richard Conqueror : therefore Paucas pallabris, let the world side : Seffa.

Hoft. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?

Beg. No, not a deniere : goe by Ieronimie, goe to thy cold bed, and warme thee.

Hot. I know my remedie, I must goe fetch the head. borough.

Beg. Third, or fourth, or fift borough, Ile answere him by law. Ile not budge an inch boy: let him come and kindly.

Falles asleepe.

Winde hornes. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his traine.

Lo. Huntsman I charge thee, tender well my hounds,
Brach Meriman, the poor curre is imbolt.
And couple Clowder with the deepe mouth'd brach,
Saw'st thou not boy how Siluer made it good,
At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault,
I would not loose the dogge for twentie pound.

Hunts. Why Belman is as good as he my lord,
He cried vpon it at the meerest losse,

And

B 2

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And twice to day pick'd out the dullest seat,
Trust me, I take him for the dogge.

Lord. Thou art a foole, if Eccho were as fleete,
I would esteeme him worth a dozen such :
But sup them well, and looke vnto them all.
To-morrow I intend to hunt againe.

Hunts. I will my lord.

Lord. What's heere? One dead, or drunke? See doth he breath :

2 Hun. He breath's my lord.' Were he not warm’d with ale, this were a bed but cold to sleepe so foundly.

Lord. Oh mounstrous beast, how like a swine he lyes.
Grimme death how foule and loathsome is thine image:
Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.
What thinke you, if he were conucy'd to bed,
Wrap'd in sweet cloathes : rings put vpon his fingers :
A most delicious banquet by huis bed,
And braue attendants neere him when he wakes,
Would not the begger then forget himselfe?

i Hunts. Belceue me lord, I thinke hee cannot choose.
2 Hunts. It would seeme strange unto him when he wak'd.

Lord. Euen as a flat'ring dreame, or worthles fancie.
Then take him vp, and manage well the ieft:
Carrie him gently to my fairelt chamber,
And hang it round with all my wanton pictures.
Balme his foule head in warme distilled waters,
And burne sweet wood to make the lodging sweete:
Procure me musicke readie when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heauenly sound:
And if he chance to speake, be ready straight
(And with a low submissiue reuerence)
Say, what is it your honor will command :
Let one attend him with a siluer bason
Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers,

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