THE TAMING OF THE SHREW.

DRAMATIS PERSONE.

Suitors to Bianca.

GREMIO,
HORTENSIO,
TRANIO,

BIONDELLO, Servants to Lucentio.

Servants to Petruchio.

GRUMIO,
CURTIS, S
A Pedant.

KATHARINA, the shrew,
BIANCA,
Widow.

}

Daughters to Baptista.

A Lord.

CHRISTOPHER SLY, a Tinker.
Hostess, Page, Players, Hunts-
men, and Servants.

BAPTISTA, a rich Gentleman of Padua.
VINCENTIO, an old Gentleman of Pisa.
LUCENTIO, Son to Vincentio, in love with

Bianca.
PETRUCHIO, a Gentleman of Verona, a suitor to
Katharina.

Persons in the
Induction.

Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Baptista and Petruchio.
SCENE.-Sometimes in Padua, and sometimes in Petruchio's House in the Country.

INDUCTION.

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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Host. I know my remedy: I must go fetch the third-borough. Exit.

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
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.

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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?'

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.

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And then, with kind embracements, tempting kisses,

First Hun. My lord, I warrant you we will play our part,

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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.

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.
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.

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How now! who is it?
Serv.

An it please your honour,
Players that offer service to your lordship.
Lord. Bid them come near.

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.

Enter Players.

Now, fellows, you are welcome.
Players. We thank your honour.
Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night?
A Player. So please your lordship to accept
our duty.

Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I re-
member,

Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son :
'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well.
I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part
Was aptly fitted and naturally perform'd.

A Player. I think 'twas Soto that your honour

means.

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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

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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
chamber;

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120

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
laughter

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.
Exeunt.

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
May show her duty, and make known her love?' |

SCENE II.-A Bedchamber in the Lord's House.

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 honour!

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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

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,

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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

nap.
But did I never speak of all that time?

First Ser. 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,
Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd
quarts.
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.

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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,
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell,

As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. Second Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight

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Adonis painted by a running brook,
And Cytherea all in sedges hid,
Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.

Lord. We'll show thee Io as she was a maid,
And how she was beguiled and surpris'd,
As lively painted as the deed was done.
Third Serv. Or Daphne roaming through a
thorny wood,

Scratching her legs that one shall swear she
bleeds;

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.

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 :

First Serv. And till the tears that she hath For your physicians have expressly charg'd,
shed for thee
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.

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.

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Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam ?
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. Sly. 'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone.

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Gre. What's that, I pray?

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.

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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

Master, your love must live a maid at home;
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
To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her?
Tra. Ay, marry am I, sir; and now 'tis plotted.
Luc. I have it, Tranio.

Tra.

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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.

Luc.
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?

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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;

That love should of a sudden take such hold? 150 But I will charm him first to keep his tongue.

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.

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 ;

Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst : 160 And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid

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-
tents:

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

trance.

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pray, awake, sir: if you love the maid,
Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it
stands:

Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd,
That till the father rid his hands of her,

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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,

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That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest daughter.

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