[To PHEBE.] You to his love must accord, Or have a woman to your lord : [To TOUCHSTONE and AUDREY.] You and you are sure together, As the winter to foul weather. How thus we met, and these things finish. SONG. Wedding is great Juno's crown: O blessed bond of board and bed! Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou art to me! Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. Phe. [To SILVIUS.] I will not eat my word, now thou art mine; Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine. Enter JAQUES de Bois. Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a word or I am the second son of old Sir Rowland, [two: That bring these tidings to this fair assembly.-Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day Men of great worth resorted to this forest, Address'd a mighty power; which were on foot, In his own conduct, purposely to take His brother here, and put him to the sword: And to the skirts of this wild wood he came; Where, meeting with an old religious man, After some question with him, was converted Both from his enterprise and from the world; His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother, And all their lands restor'd to them again, That were with him exil'd. This to be true, I do engage my life. Duke S. Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers' wedding: To one, his lands withheld; and to the other, A land itself at large, a potent dukedom. First, in this forest, let us do those ends That here were well begun, and well begot: And after, every of this happy number, Welcome, young man; That have endur'd shrewd days and nights with us, Play, music!-and you, brides and bridegrooms all, Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.-[To DUKE S.] You to your former honour I bequeath; Your patience, and your virtue, well deserve it :[To ORLANDO.] You to a love, that your true faith doth merit:— [To OLIVER.] You to your land, and love, and great allies: [To SILVIUS.] You to a long and well deserved bed: [To TOUCHSTONE.] And you to wrangling; for thy loving voyage Is but for two months victual'd.-So, to your pleaI am for other than for dancing measures. [sures: Duke S. Stay, Jaques, stay. Jaq. To see no pastime, I:--what you would have, I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. [Exit. Duke S. Proceed, proceed: we will begin these rites, As we do trust they 'll end, in true delights. EPILOGUE. Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady the epilogue; but it is no more unhandsome, than to see the lord the prologue. If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good play needs no epilogue: yet to good wine they do use good bushes; and good plays prove the better by the help of good epilogues. What a case am I in, then, that am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insinuate with you in the behalf of a good play! I am not furnished like a beggar, therefore to beg will not become me: my way is, to conjure you; and I'll begin with the women. I charge you, O women, for the love you bear to men, to like as much of this play as please you: and I charge you, O men, for the love you bear to women, (as I perceive by your simpering none of you hates them,) that between you and the women, the play may please. If I were a woman, I would kiss as many of you as had beards that pleased me, complexions that liked me, and breaths that I defied not; and, I am sure, as many as have good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, will, for my kind offer, when I make court'sy, bid me farewell. [Exeunt. SCENE,-Sometimes in PADUA; and sometimes in PETRUCHIO'S House in the Country. INDUCTION. SCENE I.-Before an Alehouse on a Heath. Enter Hostess and SLY. Sly. I'll pheese you, in faith. 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? Sly. No, not a denier. Go by, Saint Jeronimy, Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. Host. 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. [Lies down on the ground, and jalis 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; I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. 1 Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; Lord. Thou art a fool: if Echo were as fleet, 1 Hun. I will, my lord. Lord. [Sees SLY.] What's here? one dead, or drunk? Sce, 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. lies! Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image! Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. And brave attendants near him when he wakes,- I Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. 2 Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd. Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worthless fancy. Then take him up, and manage well the jest:- And say,-Will't please your lordship cool your hands? Some one be ready with a costly suit, This do, and do it kindly, gentle Sirs: I Hun. My lord, I warrant you, we will play our Re-enter Servant. How now! who is it? 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. 1 Play. I think 'twas Soto that your honour means. Lord. 'Tis very true: thou didst it excellent.— Well, you are come to me in 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-eying of his odd behaviour, (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. [selves, 1 Play. Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourWere 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 Servant and Players. [To a Servant.] Sirrah, go you to Barthol'mew my page, And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady: May show her duty, and make known her love? And then, with kind embracements, tempting kisses, And with declining head into his bosom,- 2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these conserves? 3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear today? 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, 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 alewife 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 I 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, As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth! [Music. |