TAMING OF THE SHREW. INDUCTION. SCENE I-Before an Ale-house on a Heath. Enter Hostess and SLY. 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, paucus pallabris; let the world slide: Sessa! Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? Sly. No, not a deuier: 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 hounds: Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss'd, And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach. 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, I would esteem him worth a dozen such. But sup them well, and look unto them all; 1 Hun. I will, my lord. Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe? [with ale, 2 Hun. He breathes, my lord: Were he not warni'd 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, 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 waked. 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; And say,-Wilt please your lordship cool 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, Re-enter a Servant. How now? who is it? Serv. 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 Well, you are come to me in happy time; B (For yet his honour never heard a play,) 1 Play. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves, Were he the veriest antic in the world. Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, [Exeunt Servant and Players. Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page, To a Servant.) And see him dress'd in all suits like a dy: Bid him shed tears, as being overjoyed To see her noble lord restored to health, Who, for twice seven years, hath esteem'd him To rain a shower of commanded tears, [Exit Servant. I know, the boy will well usurp the grace, 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. SCENE II.-A Bedchamber in the Lord's House. SLY is discovered in a rich night-gown, with Allendants some with apparel, others with basin, ewer, and other appurtenances. Enter Lord, dressed like a servant. Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale. [sack ? 1 Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of 2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these con. serves? 3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to day? Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me-honour, 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 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, Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-heath; by birth a pedlar, by education a card-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. O, this it is, that makes your lady mourn. 2 Serv. O, this it is, that makes your servants droop. Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred shun your As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. [house, O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth; Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, And banish hence these abject lowly dreams : Each in his office ready at thy beck. Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays, (Music.) And twenty cagéd nightingales do sing: Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch, On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. Say, thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground: |