Gru. Now, were I not a little pot, and soon hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roof of my mouth, my heart in my belly, 'ere I should come by fre to thaw me. Act IV. Scene I. TAMING OF THE SHREW. LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE. WARBURTON and Farmer have questioned the authenticity of this play; one declaring it to be certainly spuri. ous, and the other supposing that Shakspeare merely adapted it to the stage, with certain additions and cor rections. Malone, however, upon very satisfactory grounds, ranks it among the earliest efforts of Shakspeare's ¿ause; as it abounds with the doggrel measure so common in the old comedies immediately preceding the time at which he commenced writing for the stage; and with a tiresome play upon words, which he took occasion to condemn in one of his subsequent comedies. The year 1549 is the probable date of its production. Yet Steevens discovers the hand of Shakspeare in almost every scene; and Johnson considers the whole play very popular, sprightly, and diverting. "The two plots (says the learned Doctor) are so well united, that they cau hardly be called two, without injury to the art with which they are interwoven." That part of the story which suggests the title of the play, is probably a work of invention. The under-plot, which comprises the love-scenes of Lucentio, the pleasing incident of the pedant, with the characters of Vincentio, Tranto, Gremio and Biondello, is taken from a comedy of George Gascoigne's (an author of considerable popularity) called Supposes, translated from Ariosto's I Suppositi, and acted in 1566, by the gentlemen of Grey's Inn. The singular Induction to this piece is taken from Goulart's "Histories admirables de notre temps," in which its leading circumstance is related as a real fact, practised upon a mean artisan at Brussels, by Philip the Good, duke of Burgundy. The Taming of the Shrew condensed within the compass of a modern after-piece invariably elicits considerable mirth; for the respective parts of Katharina and Petruchio are exceedingly spirited, ludicrous, and diverting. But, in its present form, many of the scenes are unpardonably tedious, and many of the incidents perplexingly involved. To those who look for “sermous in stones, and good in every thing," we cannot exactly point out the moral of this domestic occurrence; since the successful issue of Petruchio's experiment in one solitary instance, will scarcely warrant its practical repetition in any of the numerous cases which seem to call for a similar remedy. SCENE, sometimes in Padua ; and sometimes in Petruchio's House in the Country. CHARACTERS in the INDUCTION To the original Play of The Taming of a Shrew, entered on the Stationers' Books in 1594, and printed in quarto, in 1607. JEROBEL, Duke of Cestus. PHYLEMA, AURELIUS, his Son, Suitors to the Daughters Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants to Fe FERANDO, POLIDOR, of Alphonsus. rando and Alphonsus. SCENE, Athens; and sometimes Ferando's Country House. INDUCTION. And say, Will't please your lordship cool your bands? SCENE I-Before an Alehouse on a Heath. Some one be ready with a costly suit, Enter HOSTESS and SLY." Sly. I'll pheese you, in faith. Aud ask him what apparel be will wear; Sly. Y'are a baggage; the Slies are no rogues: Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst ?g 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, P'il 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 huntsmen and servants. Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds: Brach ** Merriman,-the poor cur is emboss'd, Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good Lord. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fleet, 1 Hun. I will, my lord. Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe ? 2 Hun. He breathes, my lord: Were he not This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. A most delicious banquet by his bed, choose. Hun. It would seem strange unto him when be wak'd. Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worthless fancy. It will be pastime passing excellent, 1 Hun. My lord, I warrant you, we'll play As he shall think, by our true diligence, Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with And each one to his office, when he wakes.— How now? Who is it? Serv. An it please your honour, Enter PLAYERS. Now, fellows, you are welcome. 1 Play. We thank your honour. 2 Play. So please your lordship to accept our Lord. With all my heart.-This fellow I re member, Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son ;- I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part 1 Play. I think, 'twas Soto that your honour means. Lord. 'Tis very true;-thou didst it excel- Well, you are come to me in happy time; Then take him up, and manage well the jest:-Were he the veriest antick in the world. And hang it round with all my wanton pic Lord. Go, sirab, take them to the buttery, And call him-madam, do him obeisance,- Wherein your lady, and your humble wife, And then-with kind embracements, tempting kisses, And with declining head into his bosom, When they do homage to this simple peasant. SCENE 11. [Exeunt. A Bedchamber in the LORD's House. SLY is discovered in a rich night gown, with attendants; some with apparel, others with bason, ewer, and other appurtenances. Enter LORD, dressed like a Servant. Sly. For God's sake a pot of small ale. 1 Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack? 2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these conserves ? 3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day ? On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. soar Above the morning lark: Or wilt thou hunt? Thy bounds shall make the welkin answer them, And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. 1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. Adonis, painted by a running brook : 3 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, 1 Serv. And, till the tears that she bath shed for thee, Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face, Sly. Am I a lord? and have 1 such a lady? Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not mehonour, nor lordship: I never 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, sometimes, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the over-Oh! leather. Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your Oh! that a mighty man, of such descent, [SERVANTS present an ewer, basin, and napkin. Oh! how we joy to see your wit restor❜d! that once more you knew but what you are ! These fifteen years you have been in a dream ; 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? And rail upon the hostess of the house; Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am 1 Serv. O yes, my lord; but very idle words :not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton- For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, beath; by birth a pedlar, by education a card-Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of door; maker, 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 1 Serv. Oh! this it is, that mourn. makes your lady 2 Serv. Oh! this it is that makes your servants droop. Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shun your house, As beaten bence by your strange lunacy. ment, Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket. Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house. 3 Serv. Why, Sir, you know no house, nor no such maid; Nor no such men, as you bave reckon'd up,As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece, And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell; And twenty more such names and men as these, Which never were, nor no man ever saw. Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends! |