A Lord. Christopher Sly, a Drunken Tinker. Hostess, Page, Players, Huntsmen, and other Persons in the Baptista, a rich Gentleman of Padua. Lucentio, Son to Vincentio, in Love with Bianca. Induction. Petruchio, a Gentleman of Verona, a Suitor to Katharina Gremio, Hortensio, Grumio, Servants to Petruchio, Pedant, an old Fellow set up to personate Vincentio. Katharina, the Shrew: Daughters to Baptista. Widow. Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Baptista and Petruchio. SCENE, sometimes in Padua; and sometimes in Petruchio's House in the Country. To the Original Play of The Taming of the Shrew, entered on the Stationers' Books in 1594, and printed in quarto in 1607. Polidor, Valeria, Servant to Aurelius. Sander, Servant to Ferando. Phylotus, a Merchant who personates the Duke. Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants to Ferando and Alphonsus. SCENE, Athens; and sometimes Ferando's Country House. INDUCTION. SCENE I. Before an Alehouse on a Heath. Sly. I'LL pheese you, in faith. Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue! Sly. Y'are a baggage; the Slies 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, 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, 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. Wind Horns. Enter a Lord from Hunting, with Huntsmen and Servants. Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my Brach Merriman,-the poor cur is emboss'd, [hounds: 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. 1 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: Lord. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fleet, 40 X 12 43 1 Hun. I will, my lord. [he breathe? Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth 2 Hun. He breathes, my lord: Were he not warm'd This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. [with ale, 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, 1 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. 2 Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd. Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worthless fancy. And hang it round with all my wanton pictures: your hands? 1 Hun. My lord, I warrant you we'll play our part, 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. [Some bear out Sly. A Trumpet sounds. Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds: [Exit Servant. Belike, some noble gentleman; that means, How now? who is it? An it please your honour, Players that offer service to your lordship. Enter Players. Now, fellows, you are welcome. 1 Play. We thank your honour. Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night? 2 Play. So please your lordship to accept our duty. Lord. With all my heart.-This fellow I remember, 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. 1 Play. I think, 'twas Soto that your honour means.. 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, you should smile, he grows impatient. If 1 Play. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves, Were he the veriest antic in the world. 1 |