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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.
Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue!

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.


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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.
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

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?

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.
What think you, if he were convey'd to bed,
Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his

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


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?'

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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.

And then, with kind embracements, tempting kisses,

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

First Hun. My lord, I warrant you we will No better than a poor and loathsome beggar.

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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 ourselves

Were he the veriest antick 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. Exit one with the Players.

Sirrah, go you to Barthol'mew my page,
And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady:
That done, conduct him to the drunkard's


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 command,
Wherein your lady and your humble wife


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.
Exit Servant.


I know the boy will well usurp the grace,
Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman:
I long to hear him call the drunkard husband,
And how my men will stay themselves from

When they do homage to this simple peasant.
I'll in to counsel them: haply, my presence
May well abate the over-merry spleen
Which otherwise would grow into extremes.

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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 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


Second Serv. O! this it is that makes your servants droop.

Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,

As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.

May show her duty, and make known her love?' | O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth,.


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And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.
Lord. Thou art a lord and nothing but a lord:
Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waning age.

First Serv. And till the tears that she hath shed for thee

Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world;
And yet she is inferior to none.

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.
Second Serv. Will't please your mightiness to
wash your hands?

Servants present an 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, 80
Or, when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept.
Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly

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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.

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;
For so your doctors hold it very meet,
Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your

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?
Page. It is a kind of history.


Sly. Well, we 'll see 't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side,

And let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.




SCENE I.-Padua. A public Place.


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;
No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en:"
In brief, sir, study what you most affect.



Luc. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise.

If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore,
We could at once put us in readiness,
And take a lodging fit to entertain
Such friends as time in Padua shall beget.
But stay awhile: what company is this?

Tra. Master, some show to welcome us to town.


stand aside.

Bap. Gentlemen, importune me no further,
For how I firmly am resolv'd you know;
That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter so
Before I have a husband for the elder.
If either of you both love Katharina,
Because I know you well and love you well,
Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure.
Gre. Aside. To cart her rather: she's too
rough for me.

There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife?
Kath. 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.

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. Hor. From all such devils, good Lord deliverus! Gre. And me too, good Lord!

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.

Peace, Tranio !


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. s 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?
Bap. Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolv'd. ∞
Go in, 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. I Kath. Why, and I trust I may go too; may not?

What! shall I be appointed hours, as though, belike,

I knew not what to take, and what to leave! Ha!


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. Fare well: yet, for the love I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit man to teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father.


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?

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;
But see, while idly I stood looking on,
I found the effect of love in idleness;
And now in plainness do confess to thee,
That art to me as secret and as dear
As Anna to the Queen of Carthage was,
Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio,
If I achieve not this young modest girl.
Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst :
Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt.


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
That mortal ears might hardly endure the din?
Luc. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move,
And with her breath she did perfume the air;
Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her.

Tra. Nay, then, 'tis time to stir him from his

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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.
We have not yet been seen in any house,
Nor can we be distinguished by our faces
For man or master: then, it follows thus:
Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead,
Keep house, and port, and servants, as I should:
I will some other be; some Florentine,
Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa.
"Tis hatch'd and shall be so: Tranio, at once
Uncase thee, take my colour'd hat and cloak: 210
When Biondello comes, he waits on thee;
But I will charm him first to keep his tongue.
Tra. So had you need.

In brief then, sir, sith it your pleasure is,
And I am tied to be obedient;

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.


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