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Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Baptista and Petruchio. 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 pheeze you, in faith.
Sly. Y' are a baggage: the Slys 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, Jeronimy; go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.
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,
He cried upon it at the merest loss,
Lord. Thou art a fool: if Echo were as fleet,
Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?
Second Hun. He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd with ale,
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.
A most delicious banquet by his bed,
Second Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd.
Lord. Even as a flattering dream or worthless Then take him up and manage well the jest. fancy. Carry him gently to my fairest chamber, And hang it round with all my wanton pictures; Balm his foul head in 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 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?'
Persuade him that he hath been lunatic;
If it be husbanded with modesty.
And then, with kind embracements, tempting kisses,
And with declining head into his bosom,
First Hun. My lord, I warrant you we will No better than a poor and loathsome beggar.
And if the boy have not a woman's gift
Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with him, And each one to his office when he wakes. 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. Re-enter Servant.
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 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.
A Player. Fear not, my lord: we can contain
Were he the veriest antick in the world.
Enter aloft SLY in a rich night-gown, with Attendants; some with apparel, others with basin, ewer and other appurtenances; and LORD, dressed like a servant.
Sly. For God's sake! a pot of small ale. First Serv. Will 't please your lordship drink a cup of sack?
Second Serv. Will 't please your honour taste of these conserves?
Third Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day?
Sly. Iam 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
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
And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
First Serv. And till the tears that she hath shed for thee
Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face,
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.
Servants present an ewer, basin, and napkin.
Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house. Third Serv. Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such maid,
Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up,
Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends!
Sly. I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it. Enter the Page, as a lady, with Attendants. Page. How fares my noble lord?
Sly. Marry, I fare well, for here is cheer enough. Where is my wife?
Page. Here, noble lord: what is thy will with her?
Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me husband?
My men should call me lord: I am your goodman. Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;
I am your wife in all obedience.
Sly. I know it well. What must I call her? Lord. Madam.
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.
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 despite of the flesh and the blood.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Your honour's players, hearing your amendment,
Are come to play a pleasant comedy;
And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy: Therefore they thought it good you hear a play, And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life. Sly. Marry, I will; let them play it. Is not a comonty a Christmas gambold or a tumblingtrick?
Page. No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff.
Sly. What! household stuff?
Sly. Well, we 'll see 't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side,
And let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger. Flourish.
SCENE I.-Padua. A public Place.
Enter LUCENTIO and TRANIO.
Luc. Tranio, since for the great desire I had To see fair Padua, nursery of arts, 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: 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; Or so devote to Aristotle's checks As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd. Balk logic with acquaintance that you have, And practise rhetoric in your common talk; Music and poesy use to quicken you; The mathematics and the metaphysics,
Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you;
Luc. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise.
If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore,
Tra. Master, some show to welcome us to town.
Enter BAPTISTA, KATHARINA, BIANCA, GREMIO, and HORTENSIO. LUCENTIO and TRANIO
Hor. Mates, maid! how mean you that? no mates for you,
Unless you were of gentler, milder mould.
Kath. I' faith, sir, you shall never need to fear:
I wis it is not half way to her heart;
Hor. From all such devils, good Lord deliverus!
Tra. Hush, master! here is some good pastime toward:
That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward. Luc. But in the other's silence do I see Maid's mild behaviour and sobriety.
Tra. Well said, master; mum ! and gaze your fill. 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.
Kath. A pretty peat! it is best
Put finger in the eye, an she knew why.
Bian. Sister, content you in my discontent. so Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe: My books and instruments shall be my company, On them to look and practise by myself.
Luc. Hark, Tranio! thou may'st hear Minerva speak.
Hor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange? Sorry am I that our good will effects Bianca's grief.
Why, will you mew her up,
Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,
And make her bear the penance of her tongue?
And for I know she taketh most delight
Kath. Why, and I trust I may go too; may I not?
What shall I be appointed hours, as though, belike,
I knew not what to take, and what to leave? Ha! Exit.
Gre. You may go to the devil's dam: your gifts are so good, here's none will hold you. Their love is not so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together, and fast it fairly out our cake's dough on both sides. Fareif I can by any means light on a fit man to well: yet, for the love I bear my sweet Bianca, teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father.
I pray. Though the nature of our quarrel yet Hor. So will I, Signior Gremio: but a word, 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?
Master, your love must live a maid at home;
Hor. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister. And therefore has he closely mew'd her up, Gre. A husband! a devil.
Hor. I say, a husband.
Gre. I say, a devil. Thinkest thou, Hortensio, though her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to hell?
Hor. Tush, Gremio! though it pass your patience and mine to endure her loud alarums, why, man, there be good fellows in the world, an a man could light on them, would take her with all faults, and money enough.
Gre. I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry with this condition, to be whipped at the high-cross every morning.
Hor. Faith, as you say, there's small choice in rotten apples. But, come; since this bar in law makes us friends, it shall be so far forth friendly maintained, till by helping Baptista's eldest daughter to a husband, we set his youngest free for a husband, and then have to 't afresh. Sweet Bianca! Happy man be his dole! He that runs fastest gets the ring. How say you, Signior Gremio ? Gre. I am agreed: and would I had given him the best horse in Padua to begin his wooing, that would thoroughly woo her, wed her, and bed her, and rid the house of her. Come on. Exeunt GREMIO and HORTENSIO. Tra. I pray, sir, tell me, is it possible That love should of a sudden take such hold? 150 Luc. O Tranio! till I found it to be true,
I never thought it possible or likely;
Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you now; Affection is not rated from the heart: If love have touch'd you, nought remains but so, Redime te captum quam queas minimo.
Luc. Gramercies, lad; go forward: this con
The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound.
Tra. Master, you look'd so longly on the maid, Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all. Luc. O yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face, 170 Such as the daughter of Agenor had,
That made great Jove to humble him to her hand,
When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand. Tra. Saw you no more? mark'd you not how her sister
Began to scold and raise up such a storm
Tra. Nay, then, 'tis time to stir him from his
Because she will not be annoy'd with suitors. Luc. Ah! Tranio, what a cruel father's he; But art thou not advis'd he took some care Toget her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her? Tra. Ay, marry am I, sir; and now 'tis plotted. Luc. I have it, Tranio.
Tra. Master, for my hand, Both our inventions meet and jump in one. Luc. Tell me thine first. Tra.
You will be schoolmaster, And undertake the teaching of the maid: That's your device.
It is may it be done? Tra. Not possible; for who shall bear your part, And be in Padua here Vincentio's son; Keep house and ply his book, welcome his friends, Visit his countrymen, and banquet them?
Luc. Basta, content thee; for I have it full.
In brief then, sir, sith it your pleasure is,
For so your father charg'd me at our parting, 'Be serviceable to my son,' quoth he, Although I think 'twas in another sense;
I am content to be Lucentio,
Because so well I love Lucentio.
Luc. Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves; And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid Whose sudden sight hath thrall'd my wounded eye.
Here comes the rogue. Sirrah, where have you been?
Bion. Where have I been! Nay, how now ! where are you?
Master, has my fellow Tranio stol'n your clothes? Or you stol'n his? or both? pray, what's the
Luc. Sirrah, come hither: 'tis no time to jest, And therefore frame your manners to the time. Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life, Puts my apparel and my countenance on, And I for my escape have put on his ; For in a quarrel since I came ashore I kill'd a man, and fear I was descried. Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes, While I make way from hence to save my life: You understand me?
Bion. I, sir! ne'er a whit. Luc. And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth : Tranio is chang'd into Lucentio.
Bion. The better for him: would I were so too! Tra. So could I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after,
That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest daughter.