The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

GREMIO,

HORTENSIO,

Suitors to Bianca.

GRUMIO, CURTIS,

Servants to Petruchio

Pedant, set up to personate Vincentio.

KATHARINA, the Shrew, Į Daughters to Bap-
BIANCA,
tista.
Widow.

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

SCENE.-Sometimes in Padua; and sometimes in PETRUCHIO's House in the Country.

Sly. No, not a denier. Go by, Jeronimy, go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.

Host. I know my remedy: I must go fetch the third-borough. [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. Horns winded. 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.

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?

First Hunt. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.

Sec. Hunt. It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd.

Lord. Even as a flattering dream or worth

less 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 in warm distilled waters, 48
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, 52
And with a low submissive reverence
Say, 'What is it your honour will command?'
Let one attend him with a silver basin
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
hands?'

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

dreams,

-say that he
64

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 com-
mand,

112

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. 73
[SLY is borne out. A trumpet sounds.
Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds:
[Exit Servant.
Belike, some noble gentleman that means,
Travelling some journey, to repose him here. 76 And then, with kind embracements, tempting

116

Wherein your lady and your humble wife
May show her duty, and make known her
love?'

kisses,

120

124

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 this seven years hath esteemed him
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar.
And if the boy have not a woman's gift
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 dispatch'd with all the haste thou
canst:

Anon I'll give thee more instructions.

128

[Exit Servant.

I know the boy will well usurp the grace,
Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman: 132
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 counsel them: haply, my presence 136
May well abate the over merry spleen
Which otherwise would grow into extremes.

[Exeunt.

Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me honour, nor lordship: I ne'er 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, sometime 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 Burtonheath; by birth a pedlar, by education a cardmaker, 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

First Serv. O! this it is that makes your lady

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; And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly. Well, bring our lady hither to our sight; And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale. Sec. Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands?

[Servants present a ewer, basin, 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, 81
Or, when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept.
Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly

nap.

But did I never speak of all that time?
First 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,

Page. Here, noble lord: what is thy will with her?

Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me husband?

SCENE I.-Padua. A public Place.

Enter LUCENTIO and TRANIO.

Luc. Tranio, since for the great desire I had

My men should call me lord: I am your good-To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,

man.

Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;

I am your wife in all obedience.

108

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

Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam? 112
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 or more. Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me, Being all this time abandon'd from your bed. 117 Sly. 'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone.

121

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.

124

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 spite of the flesh and the blood.

Enter a Servant.

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,
My trusty servant well approv'd in all,
Here let us breathe, and haply 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's son, brought up in Florence,
It shall become to serve all hopes conceiv'd,
To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds: 16
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 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.
Only, good master, while we do admire
This virtue and this moral discipline,
Let's be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray;
As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd.

Serv. Your honour's players, hearing your Or so devote to Aristotle's checks

amendment,

Hor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange?
Sorry am I that our good will effects
44 Bianca's grief.
Gre.
Why will you mew her up,
Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,

Such friends as time in Padua shall beget.
But stay awhile: what company is this?
Tra. Master, some show to welcome us to And make her bear the penance of her tongue?
town.

There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife? 56 Kath. [To BAPTISTA.] I pray you, sir, 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. 60 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,
And paint your face, and use you like a fool. 65
Hor. From all such devils, good Lord deliver

us!

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 cunning men I will be very kind, and liberal

To mine own children in good bringing up; And so, farewell. Katharina, you may stay; 100 For I have more to commune with Bianca. [Exit. Kath. Why, and I trust I may go too; may I

not?

Hor. So will I, Signior Gremio: but a word, I pray. Though the nature of our quarrel yet never brooked parle, know now, upon advice, it toucheth us both,-that we may yet again have access to our fair mistress and be happy rivals in Bianca's love,-to labour and effect one thing specially.

Gre. What's that, I pray?

120

Hor. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her

sister.

Gre. I say, a devil. Thinkest thou, Hortensio, though her father be very rich, any man is so 76 very a fool to be married to hell?

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.

128

Hor. Tush, Gremio! though it pass your

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