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Duke S. If there be truth in sight, you are my daughter
Orl. If there be truth in sight, you are my Rosalind.
Phe. If sight and shape be true,
Why then, my love adieu !

Ros. I'll have no father, if you be not he:
I'll have no husband, if you be not he:
Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she.
Hym. Peace, ho! I bar confusion:
'Tis I must make conclusion

Of these most strange events:
Here's eight that must take hands
To join in Hymen's bands,

If truth holds true contents.
You and you no cross shall part:
You and you are heart in heart:
You to this love must accord,
Or have a woman to your lord:
You and you are sure together,
As the winter to foul weather.
Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing,
Feed yourselves with questioning;
That reason wonder may diminish,
How thus we met, and these things finish.

Wedding is great Juno's crown:

O blessed bond of board and bed!
"Tis Hymen peoples every town;

High wedlock then be honoured:
Honour, high honour and renown,
To Hymen, God of every town!

Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me! Even daughter, welcome, in no less degree.

Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine.


Jaq de B. Let me have audience for a word or two:
I am the second son of old Sir Rowland,
That bring these tidings to this fair assembly.
Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day
Men of great worth resorted to this forest,
Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot,
In his own conduct, purposely to take
His brother here and put him to the sword:
And to the skirts of this wild wood he came






Where meeting with an old religious man,
After some question with him, was converted
Both from his enterprise and from the world,
His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother,
And all their lands restored to them again
That were with him exiled. This to be true,
I do engage my life.

Duke S.

Welcome, young man ;
Thou offer'st fairly to thy brother's wedding
To one his lands withheld, and to the other
A land itself at large, a potent dukedom.
First, in this forest let us do those ends
That here were well begun and well begot:
And after, every of this happy number
That have endured shrewd days and nights with us
Shall share the good of our returned fortune,
According to the measure of their states.
Meantime, forget this new-fall'n dignity
And fall into our rustic revelry.

Play, music! And you, brides and bridegrooms all,
With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures fall.



Jaq. Sir, by your patience. If I heard you rightly,
The duke hath put on a religious life

And thrown into neglect the pompous court?
Jaq. de B. He hath.

Jaq. To him will I out of these convertites
There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.
[10 duke] You to your former honour I bequeath;
Your patience and your virtue well deserves it:
[To Orl. You to a love that your true faith doth merit:
To Oli.] You to your land and love and great allies:
To Sil. You to a long and well-deserved bed:

To Touch.] And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage Is but for two months victuall'd. So, to your pleasures:


I am for other than for dancing measures.

Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay.

Jaq. To see no pastime I: what you would have I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave.


Duke S. Proceed, proceed we will begin these rites, As we do trust they'll end, in true delights.

[A dance



Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but it is no, more unhandsome than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue; yet to good wine they do use good bushes, and good plays prove the better by the

help of good epilogues. What a case am I in then, that am neither a good epilogue nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me: my way is to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please you and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women-as I perceive by your simpering, none of you hates them-that between you and the women the play may please. If I were a woman I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me and breaths that I defied not: and, I am sure, as many as have good beards or good faces or sweet breaths will, for my kind offer, when I make curtsy, bid me farewell. [Exeunt.



A Lord. CHRISTOPHER SLY, a tinker. Hostess, Page, Players, Huntsmen, and Servants.


suitors to Bianca.


servants to Lucen
CURTIS, servants to Petruchio.
A Pedant.

Persons in

BAPTISTA, a rich gentleman of
VINCENTIC, an old gentleman of

LUCENTIO, son to Vincentio, in
love with Bianca.

KATHARINA, daughters to Bap-
the shrew,


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

PETRUCHIO, a gentleman of Ver

ona, a suitor to Katharina.

SCENE: Padua and Petruchio's country house.


SCENE I. Before an ale house on a heath.
Enter HOSTESS and SLY.

Sly. I'll pheeze you, in faith.

Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue!

Sly. Ye are a baggage: the Slys are no rogues; look in the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore paucus 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.


Host. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the thirdborough. Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by [Fort law: I'll not budge an inch, boy: let him come, and kindly. [Falls asleep. Horns winded. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his train. Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds:


Trash Merriman, the poor cur is emboss'd;
And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd 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.

First Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;
He cried upon it at the merest loss

And twice to-day pick'd 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.


First Hun. I will, my lord.

Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?

Sec. Hun. He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd with ale,

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 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


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 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 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.
Sec. Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he


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;




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