« PreviousContinue »
CHRISTOPHER Sly, a drunken Tinker,
Hostess, Page, Players, Huntsmen, and
other Servants attending on the Lord.
Persons in the
BAPTISTA, a rich Gentleman of Padua.
VINCENTIO, an old Gentleman of Pisa.
LUCENTIO, Son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca.
PETRCCHIO, a Gentleman of Verona, a Suitor to Kath-
Suitors to Bianca.
Servants to Lucencio
Servants to Petruchio,
PEDANT, an old fellow set up to personale Vincentio
KATHARINA, Pieteshrew, } Daughters to Baptista.
Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Baptista
SCENE, sometimes in Padua; and sometimes in
Petruchio's House in the Country.
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 Hunts
men and Servants. Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds : Brach Merriman, — the poor cur is embossed,
And couple Clowder with the deep-mouthed brach.
Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault?
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
1 Hunt. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;
He cried upon it at the merest loss,
And twice to-day picked 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 Hunt. I will, my lord.
Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? Sce, doth he
2 Hunt. He breathes, my lord. Were he not warmed
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 conveyed to bed,
Wrapped 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 Hunt. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.
2 Hunt. It would seem strange unto him when he
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 honor will command ?
Let one attend him with a silver basin,
Full of rose-water, and bestrewed 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—, 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 Hunt. My lord, I warrant you, we'll play our part,
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.-
[Some bear out Sly. 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.
Re-enter a Servant.
How now? who is it?
An it please your honor,
Players that offer service to your lordship.
Lord. Bid them come near. -
Now, fellows, you are welcome. 1 Play. We thank your honor. 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 played a farmer's eldest son;-
"Twas where you wooed the gentlewoman so well.
I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally performed.
1 Play. I think 'twas Soto that your honor 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, over-eyeing of his odd behavior,
(For yet his honor 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 ourselves, Were he the veriest antic in the world.
Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery,
And give them friendly welcome every one:
Let them want nothing that my house affords.-
[Ereunt Servant and Players. Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page,
To a Servant. And see him dressed in all suits like a lady: