Page images
PDF
EPUB

A

WITTIE and PLEASANT

COMEDIE

CALLED

The Taming of the SHREW.

As it was acted

By his MAIESTIES Seruants at the Blacke
Friers and the Globe.

Written by WILL. SHAKESPEAre.

LONDON,

Printed by W. S. for Iohn Smethwicke, and are to be fold at his Shop in Saint Dunftones Church-yard

[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors]

There was an Edition of this Comedy printed by V. S. for Nich. Ling, 1607. There is scarce a Line of this the fame with the present Play, yet the Plot and Scenery scarcè differ at all from it.

Vide Warburton's Tables.

The Taming of the Shrew.

I'

Actus primus. Scœna prima.

Enter Begger and Hoftes, Chriftophero Sly.

Le pheeze you infaith.

Begger.

Hoft. A paire of stockes you rogue.

Beg. Y'are a baggage, the Slies are no rogues. Looke in the Chronicles, wee came in with Richard Conqueror: therefore Paucas pallabris, let the world flide: Seffa.

Hoft. You will not pay for the glaffes you have burst? Beg. No, not a deniere: goe by Ieronimie, goe to thy cold bed, and warme thee.

Hoft. I know my remedie, I must go fetch the headborough.

[ocr errors]

Beg. Third, or fourth, or fift borough, Ile anfwere him by law. Ile not budge an inch boy: let him come and kindly. Falles afecpe.

Winde hornes. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his traine.

Lo. Huntsman I charge thee, tender well my hounds,

Brach Meriman, the poor curre is imbost.

And couple Clowder with the deepe mouth'd brach,
Saw'st thou not boy how Siluer made it good,
At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault,
I would not loose the dogge for twentie pound.

Huntf. Why Belman is as good as he my lord,
He cried vpon it at the meereft loffe,

B 2

And

And twice to day pick'd out the dulleft fent,
Trust me, I take him for the dogge.

Lord. Thou art a foole, if Eccho were as fleete,
I would esteeme him worth a dozen fuch :
But fup them well, and looke vnto them all.
To-morrow I intend to hunt againe.

Huntf. I will my lord.

Lord. What's heere? One dead, or drunke? See doth he breath?

2 Hun. He breath's my lord. Were he not warm'd with ale, this were a bed but cold to fleepe fo foundly.

Lord. Oh mounftrous beaft, how like a fwine he lyes.
Grimme death how foule and loathfome is thine image:
Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.
What thinke you, if he were conuey'd to bed,
Wrap'd in sweet cloathes: rings put vpon his fingers :
A most delicious banquet by his bed,

And braue attendants neere him when he wakes,
Would not the begger then forget himselfe?

1 Hunts. Beleeue me lord, I thinke hee cannot choose.
2 Hunts. It would feeme strange unto him when he wak’d.
Lord. Euen as a flat'ring dreame, or worthles fancie.

Then take him vp, and manage well the ieft:

Carrie him gently to my faireft chamber,

And hang it round with all my wanton pictures,
Balme his foule head in warme diftilled waters,
And burne fweet wood to make the lodging fweete:
Procure me muficke readie when he wakes,

To make a dulcet and a heauenly found:
And if he chance to fpeake, be ready straight
(And with a low fubmiffiue reuerence)
Say, what is it your honor will command:
Let one attend him with a filuer bafon

Full of rofe-water, and beftrew'd with flowers,

Another

Another beare the ewer: the third a diaper,
And fay wilt please your lordship coole your hands.
Some one be readic with a coftly fuite,

And aske him what apparell he will weare:
Another tell him of his hounds and horse,
And that his lady mournes at his disease,
Perfwade him that he hath bin lunaticke,
And when he fayes he is, fay that he dreames,
For he is nothing but a mightie lord:
This do, and doe it kindly, gentle firs,
It will be pastime paffing excellent,

If it be hufbanded with modeftie.

1 Huntf. My lord I warrant you we wil play our part As he fhall thinke by our true dilligence

He is no leffe than what we say he is.

Lord. Take him vp gently, and to bed with him, And each one to his office when he wakes.

Sound Trumpets,

Sirrah, go fee what trumpet 'tis that founds,
Belike fome noble gentleman that meanes
(Trauelling fome iourney) to repofe him heere.

Enter Seruingman.

How now? who is it?

Ser. An't please your honor, players That offer feruice to your lordship.

Enter Players.

Lord. Bid them come neere:

Now fellowes, you are welcome.

Players. We thanke your honor.

Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to night?

2 Player. So please your lordshippe to accept our dutie.

[blocks in formation]
« PreviousContinue »