Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred fhun your

house, As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. Oh, noble Lord, bethink thee of thy birth, Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, And banish hence these abject lowly dreams. Look, how thy servants do attend on thee; Each in his office ready at thy beck. Wilt thou have music? hark, Apollo plays; [Music. . And twenty caged nightingales do fing. Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee 10 a couch, Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. Say, thou wilt walk, we will bestrow the ground: Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd, Their harness ftudded all with gold and pearl. Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks, will foar Above the morning lark. Or wilt thou hunt? Thy hounds shall make the welkin anfwer them, And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.

1 Man. Say, thou wilt course, thy greyhounds are As breathed itags; ay, fleeter than the roe.

2 Man. Doft thou love pictures? we will fetch thee
Adonis, painted by a running brook ; (straight
And Citherea all in sedges hid;
Which seem to move, and wanton with her breath,
Ev'n as the waving fedges play with wind.

Lord. We'll shew thee Io, as she was a maid,
And how she was beguiled and surpris'd,
As lively painted as the deed was done.

3 Man. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,
Scratching her legs, that one shall (wear she bleeds:
And at that fight ihall fad 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 waining age,

as fwift

1 Man. And 'till the tears, that she hath shed for

thee,
Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world,
And
yet

she is inferior to none.
Sly. Am I a Lord, and have I such a Lady?
Or do I dream? or have I dream'd 'till now?
I do not sleep; I fee, I hear, 1 speak;
I smell sweet favours, and I feel soft things:
Upon my life, I am a Lord, indeed;
And not a Tinker, nor Christophero Sly.
Well, bring our Lady hither to our light,
And once again, a pot o'th' {mallest ale.
2 Man. Will’t please your Mightiness to wash your

hands?
Oh, how we joy to see your wits relor'd!
Oh, that once more you knew but what you

are! These fifteen years you have been in a dream, Or, when you wak'd, fo wak'd as if you slept.

Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap:
But did I never speak of all that tine?

1 Man. Oh, yes, my Lord, but very idle words.
For tho' you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of door,
And rail'd upon the Hostess of the house;
And say, you would present her at the Leet,
Because she bought ftone-jugs, and no feal'd quarts:
Sometimes, you would call out for Cicely Hacket.

Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
3 Man Why, Sir, you know no house; nor no

such maid;
Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd up;
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell,
And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.
Sly. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends !

All.

1

All. Amen

Sly. By th' Mass, I think I am a Lord indeed. What is thy name?

Man. Sim, an't please your Honour.

Sly. Sim? that's as much as to say, Simeon or Si. mon , put forth thy hand and fill the pot.

[The servant gives him drink.

[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors]

Enter Lady, with Attendants.
I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it.

Lady. How fares my noble Lord ?

Sly. Marry, I fare well, for here is cheer enough. Where's my wife?

Lady. Here, noble Lord, what is thy will with her?

Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me hufband ? My men should call me lord, I am your good man.

Lady. My husband and my lord, my Lord and husband; I am your wife in all obedience.

Sly. I know it well: what must I call her?
Lord. Madam.
Sly. Alce madam, or Joan madam?
Lord. Madam, and nothing else, so lords call ladies.

Sly. Come, sit down on my knee. Sim, drink to her. Madam wife, they say, that I have dream'd, and slept above some fifteen years

and more. Lady. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me, Being all this time abandon d from your bed.

. Sly, 'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone:Madam, undress you, and come now to bed. Sim, drink to her.

Lady. Thrice-noble Lord, let me entreat of you, To pardon me yet for a night or two: Or, if not so, until the sun be set;

For

For your Physicians have exprelly charg'd,
In peril to incur your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed;
I hope, this reason ftands for my excuse.

Sly. Ay, it stands fo, that I may hardly tarry so long; but I would be loath to fall into my dream again: I will therefore tarry in despight of the flesh and the blood.

[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors]

Enter a Messenger.
OUR Honour's Players, hearing your

amendment,
Are come to play a pleasant Comedy;
For so

your

doctors hold it very meet, Seeing too much fadness hath congeal'd your blood; And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy. Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play, And frame your mind to mirth and merriment; Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life.

Sly. Marry, I will; let them play; is it not a Commodity? a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick ?

Lady. No, my good Lord, it is more pleasing stuff.
Sly. What, houshold stuff?
Lady. It is a kind of history.

Sly. Well, we'll see't: come, Madam wife, fit by my side, and let the world slip, we shall ne'er be younger.

[ocr errors]

THE

THE

TAMING of the SHREW.

A C T I. S CE N E I.

A Street in PADU A.

Flourish. Enter Lucentio and Tranio.

LUCENTIO.

TRA

'R AN10, fince for the great desire I had

To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,
I am arriv'd from 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:
Most trusty servant, well approv'd in all,
Here let us breathe, and haply institute
A course of learning, and ingenious studies.
Pisa, renowned for grave citizens,
Gave me my Being; and my father first,
A merchant of great traffic through the world:
Vincentio's come of the Bentivolii

,
Vincentio his son, brought up in Florence,
It shall become to serve all hopes conceiv'd,
To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds:
And therefore, Tranio, for the time I ftudy,
To Virtue and that part of philosophy
Will I apply, that treats of happiness! 3
By virtue specially to be atchiev'd.
Tell me thy mind, for I have Pifa left,

And

« ZurückWeiter »