Α WITTIE and PLEASANT COMEDIE 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 fold at his Shop in Saint Dunftones Church-yard vnder the Diall. 1631. There was an Edition of this by V. S. for Nich. Ling, 1607. Comedy printed Line of this the fame with the prefent Play, yet the Plot and Scenery fcarce differ at all from it. Vide Warburton's Tables. The Taming of the Shrew. I' Actus primus. Scœna prima. Enter Begger and Hoftes, Chriftophero Sly. Le pheeze you infaith. Begger. Hoft. A paire of stockes you rogue. Beg. Y'are a baggage, the Slies are no rogues. Looke in the Chronicles, wee came in with Richard Conqueror : therefore Paucas pallabris, let the world flide: 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. Hoft. I know my remedie, I must goe fetch the headborough. Beg. Third, or fourth, or fift borough, Ile anfwere him by law. Ile not budge an inch boy: let him come and kindly. Falles afleepe. 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 imboft. And couple Clowder with the deepe mouth'd brach, Huntf. Why Belman is as good as he my lord, And twice to day pick'd out the dulleft fent, Lord. Thou art a foole, if Eccho were as fleete, I would esteeme him worth a dozen fuch: But fup 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 fleepe fo foundly. Lord. Oh mounftrous beaft, how like a fwine he lyes. And braue attendants neere him when he wakes, 1 Huntf. Belegue me lord, I thinke hee cannot choose. 2 Huntf. It would feeme ftrange 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 faireft chamber, And hang it round with all my wanton pictures. Full of rofe-water, and beftrew'd with flowers, Another |