A WITTIE and PLEASANT COMEDIE CALLED The Taming of the SHREW. As it was acted By his MAIESTIES Seruants at the Blacke 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 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. 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, Huntf. Why Belman is as good as he my lord, B 2 And And twice to day pick'd out the dulleft fent, Lord. Thou art a foole, if Eccho were as fleete, 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. And braue attendants neere him when he wakes, 1 Hunts. Beleeue me lord, I thinke hee cannot choose. 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, To make a dulcet and a heauenly found: Full of rofe-water, and beftrew'd with flowers, Another Another beare the ewer: the third a diaper, And aske him what apparell he will weare: 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, 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. |