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And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. LORD. Thou art a Lord, and nothing but a Lord :
Thou hast a Lady far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waning age.
FIRST SERV. And, till the tears, that she hath shed for thee,
Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world;
SLY. Am I a Lord? and have I such a Lady?
I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak ;
I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things:
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.
SEC. SERV. Will 't please your Mightiness to wash your hands?
O, how we joy to see your wit restor❜d!
O, that once more you knew but what you are!
And rail upon the hostess of the house;
And say you
SLY. Ay; the woman's maid of the house.
THIRD SERV. Why, Sir, you know no house, nor no such
Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up,
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps o' the Green,
And Peter Turph, and Henry Pimpernell;
And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.
4 manorial court. 5 officially stamped.
INDUC. SLY. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!
SLY. I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it.
Enter the Page as a Lady, with Attendants.
PAGE. How fares my noble Lord?
SLY. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough.
PAGE. Here, noble Lord: what is thy will with her?
I am your wife in all obedience.
SLY. I know it well.
What must I call her?
SLY. Al'ce Madam, or Joan Madam?
LORD. Madam, and nothing else: so lords call ladies.
And slept about some fifteen year or more.
For your physicians have expressly charg'd,
In peril to incur your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed:
I hope this reason stands for my excuse.
SLY. Ay; it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long. But I would be loth to fall into my dreams again: I will therefore tarry in despite of the flesh and the blood.
Enter a Messenger.
MESS. Your Honour's Players, hearing your amendment,
For so your doctors hold it very meet,
Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood,
PAGE. No, my good Lord; it is more pleasing stuff.
SLY. What, household stuff?
SLY. Well, we'll see 't.
It is a kind of history.
Come, Madam Wife, sit by my side,
And let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.
SCENE I. Padua. A Public Place.
Enter LUCENTIO and his man TRANIO.
Luc. Tranio, since for the great desire I had
And by my father's love and leave am arm'd
Gave me my being, and my father first,
A merchant of great traffic through the world,
Lucentio his son, brought up in Florence,
It shall become, to serve1 all hopes conceiv'd,
And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,
Will I apply that treats of happiness
By virtue specially to be achiev'd.
Balk2 logic with acquaintance that you have,
Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you :
In brief, Sir, study what you most affect.3
Luc. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise.
And take a lodging fit to entertain
Such friends as time in Padua shall beget.
But stay awhile: what company is this?
TRA. Master, some show to welcome us to Town.
Enter BAPTISTA with his two Daughters, KATHARINA and
BAP. Gentlemen, pray importune me no farther,
GRE. [aside.] To cart her rather: she's too rough for ACT I
There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife?
KATH. I pray you, Sir, is it your will
To make a stale1 of me amongst these mates?2
HOR. Mates, Maid! how mean you that? no mates for
Unless you were of gentler, milder mood.
KATH. I'faith, Sir, you shall never need to fear:
I wis it is not half way to her heart;
TRA. Hush, Master! here is some good pastime toward :3
Luc. But in the other's silence do I see
Maid's mild behaviour and sobriety.
TRA. Well said, Master; mum! and gaze your fill.
And let it not displease thee, good Bianca;
KATH. A pretty peat ! it is best put finger in the eye, an she knew why.
BIAN. Sister, content you in my discontent.
Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe:
My books and instruments shall be my company,
On them to look and practise by myself.
Luc. Hark, Tranio! thou may'st hear Minerva speak.
Sorry am I that our good will effects
Why will you mew her up,
Signior Baptista, for this fiend of Hell,
And make her bear the penance of her tongue?
BAP. Content ye, Gentlemen; I am resolv'd: