Taming of the Shrew

[Guru]

Lord


'Tis very true: thou didst it excellent.
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.

 

[Guru]

A Player


Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves,
Were he the veriest antic in the world.

 

[Guru]

SCENE II. A bedchamber in the Lord's house.



Enter aloft SLY, with Attendants; some with apparel, others with basin and ewer and appurtenances; and Lord

 

[Guru]

SLY


For God's sake, a pot of small ale.

 

[Guru]

First Servant


Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack?

 

[Guru]

Second Servant


Will't please your honour taste of these conserves?

 

[Guru]

Third Servant


What raiment will your honour wear to-day?

 

[Guru]

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,
sometimes more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my
toes look through the over-leather.

 

[Guru]

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 infused with so foul a spirit!

 

[Guru]

SLY


What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher
Sly, old Sly's son of Burtonheath, by birth a
pedlar, by education a cardmaker, 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--

 

[Guru]

Third Servant


O, this it is that makes your lady mourn!

 

[Guru]

Second Servant


O, this is it that makes your servants droop!

 

[Guru]

Lord


Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,
As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.
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,
Each in his office ready at thy beck.
Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays,

Music

And twenty caged nightingales do sing:
Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.
Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground:
Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark or wilt thou hunt?
Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.

 

[Guru]

First Servant


Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift
As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.

 

[Guru]

Second Servant


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.

 

[Guru]

Lord


We'll show thee Io as she was a maid,
And how she was beguiled and surprised,
As lively painted as the deed was done.

 

[Guru]

Third Servant


Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,
Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds,
And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.

 

[Guru]

Lord


Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:
Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waning age.

 

[Guru]

SLY


Am I a lord? and have I such a lady?
Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now?
I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak;
I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things:
Upon my life, I am a lord indeed
And not a tinker nor Christophero Sly.
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.

 

[Guru]

Second Servant


Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands?
O, how we joy to see your wit restored!
O, that once more you knew but what you are!
These fifteen years you have been in a dream;
Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept.

 

[Guru]

SLY


These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap.
But did I never speak of all that time?

 

[Guru]

First Servant


O, yes, my lord, but very idle words:
For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door;
And rail upon the hostess of the house;
And say you would present her at the leet,
Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts:
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.

 

[Guru]

SLY


Ay, the woman's maid of the house.

 

[Guru]

Third Servant


Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid,
Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up,
As Stephen Sly and did John Naps of Greece
And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell
And twenty more such names and men as these
Which never were nor no man ever saw.

 

[Guru]

SLY


Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!