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Taming of the shrew
Taming of the shrew
Taming of the shrew
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Taming of the shrew

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Tranio, since for the great desire I had
To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,
I am arrived for fruitful Lombardy,
The pleasant garden of great Italy;
And by my father's love and leave am arm'd
With his good will and thy good company,
My trusty servant, well approved in all,
Here let us breathe and haply institute
A course of learning and ingenious studies.
Pisa renown'd for grave citizens
Gave me my being and my father first,
A merchant of great traffic through the world,
Vincetino come of Bentivolii.
Vincetino's son brought up in Florence
It shall become to serve all hopes conceived,
To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds:
And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,
Virtue and that part of philosophy
Will I apply that treats of happiness
By virtue specially to be achieved.
Tell me thy mind; for I have Pisa left
And am to Padua come, as he that leaves
A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep
And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateMay 6, 2016
ISBN9786050431841
Author

William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare was born in April 1564 in the town of Stratford-upon-Avon, on England’s Avon River. When he was eighteen, he married Anne Hathaway. The couple had three children—an older daughter Susanna and twins, Judith and Hamnet. Hamnet, Shakespeare’s only son, died in childhood. The bulk of Shakespeare’s working life was spent in the theater world of London, where he established himself professionally by the early 1590s. He enjoyed success not only as a playwright and poet, but also as an actor and shareholder in an acting company. Although some think that sometime between 1610 and 1613 Shakespeare retired from the theater and returned home to Stratford, where he died in 1616, others believe that he may have continued to work in London until close to his death.

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    Taming of the shrew - William Shakespeare

    V

    INTRODUCTION

    SCENE I. Before an alehouse on a heath.

    Enter Hostess and SLY

    SLY

    I'll pheeze you, in faith.

    Hostess

    A pair of stocks, you rogue!

    SLY

    Ye 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!

    Hostess

    You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?

    SLY

    No, not a denier. Go by, Jeronimy: go to thy cold

    bed, and warm thee.

    Hostess

    I know my remedy; I must go fetch the

    third--borough.

    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.

    Falls asleep

    Horns winded. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his train

    Lord

    Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds:

    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.

    First Huntsman

    Why, Belman is as good as he, my 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.

    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:

    To-morrow I intend to hunt again.

    First Huntsman

    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,

    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,

    Would not the beggar then forget himself?

    First Huntsman

    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.

    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.

    First Huntsman

    My lord, I warrant you we will play our part,

    As he shall think by our true diligence

    He is no less than what we say he is.

    Lord

    Take him up gently and to bed with him;

    And each one to his office when he wakes.

    Some bear out SLY. A trumpet sounds

    Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds:

    Exit Servingman

    Belike, some noble gentleman that means,

    Travelling some journey, to repose him here.

    Re-enter Servingman

    How now! who is it?

    Servant

    An't 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 tonight?

    A Player

    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.

    A Player

    I think 'twas Soto that your honour means.

    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.

    A Player

    Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves,

    Were he the veriest antic 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.

    Exit one with the Players

    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;

    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 Servingman

    I know the boy will well usurp the grace,

    Voice,

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