|The Taming of the Shrew|
| Taming of the Shrew
| Induction, Scene 1
Enter Hostess and SLYSLY
I'll pheeze you, in faith.Hostess
A pair of stocks, you rogue!SLY
Ye are a baggage: the Slys are no rogues; look inHostess
the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror.
Therefore paucas pallabris; let the world slide: sessa!
You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?SLY
No, not a denier. Go by, Jeronimy: go to thy coldHostess
bed, and warm thee.
I know my remedy; I must go fetch theSLY
Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer himLord
by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy: let him come,
Horns winded. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his train
Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds:First Huntsman
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.
Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;Lord
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.
Thou art a fool: if Echo were as fleet,First Huntsman
I would esteem him worth a dozen such.
But sup them well and look unto them all:
To-morrow I intend to hunt again.
I will, my lord.Lord
What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?Second Huntsman
He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd with ale,Lord
This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.
O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies!First Huntsman
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?
Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.Second Huntsman
It would seem strange unto him when he waked.Lord
Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy.First Huntsman
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:
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:
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.
My lord, I warrant you we will play our part,Lord
As he shall think by our true diligence
He is no less than what we say he is.
Take him up gently and to bed with him;Servant
And each one to his office when he wakes.
Some bear out SLY. A trumpet soundsSirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds:
Exit ServingmanBelike, some noble gentleman that means,
Travelling some journey, to repose him here.
Re-enter ServingmanHow now! who is it?
An't please your honour, playersLord
That offer service to your lordship.
Bid them come near.Players
Enter PlayersNow, fellows, you are welcome.
We thank your honour.Lord
Do you intend to stay with me tonight?A Player
So please your lordship to accept our duty.Lord
With all my heart. This fellow I remember,A Player
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.
I think 'twas Soto that your honour means.Lord
'Tis very true: thou didst it excellent.A Player
Well, you are come to me in a 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 behavior,--
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.
Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves,Lord
Were he the veriest antic in the world.
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 PlayersSirrah, 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;
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 observed 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?'
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 restored to health,
Who for this seven years hath esteem'd 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.
Exit a ServingmanI 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.
| Taming of the Shrew
| Induction, Scene 1