TAMING OF THE SHREW. INDUCTION. SCENE I.-Before an Alehouse 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 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? 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: Trash Merriman,—the poor cur is emboss'd; And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach. 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: Lord. [Sees SLY.] What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe? 2 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,- 1 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. Carry him gently to my fairest chamber, And hang it round with all my wanton pictures: And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet: Let one attend him with a silver bason Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers; And say, Will 't please your lordship cool your hands? And ask him what apparel he will wear; And that his lady mourns at his disease: This do, and do it kindly, gentle Sirs: It will be pastime passing excellent, If it be husbanded with modesty. I Hun. My lord, I warrant you, we will play our part, Ι As he shall think, by our true diligence, Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with him; [SLY is borne out. Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds :Belike, some noble gentleman, that means, Travelling some journey, to repose him here.Re-enter Servant. How now! who is it? Serv. A trumpet sounds. [Exit Servant. An it please your honour, Players that offer service to your lordship. Lord. Bid them come near. Enter Players. Now, fellows, you are welcome. Players. 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. honour means. 1 Play. I think 'twas Soto that your 1 Play. Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves, 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. [Exeunt Servants and Players. [To a Servant.] 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; May show her duty, and make known her love? Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst : I know the boy will well usurp the grace, I long to hear him call the drunkard husband; [Exit Servant. And how my men will stay themselves from laughter, I'll in to counsel them; haply my presence May well abate the over-merry spleen, Which otherwise would grow into extremes. SCENE II.-A Bedchamber in the Lord's House. [Exeunt Enter SLY is discovered in a rich night gown, with Attendants; some with appard, others with bason, ewer, and appurtenances, others with wine and sweetmeats. 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? Sly. I am 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! O, that a mighty man, of such descent, Of such possessions, and so high esteem, Should be infusèd with so foul a spirit! 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 fourteenpence 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 house, O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth! Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, And banish hence these abject lowly dreams. Look how thy servants do attend on thee, Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground: 1 Serv. Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift 2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight 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, [Music. |