2 Serv. Will't please your Honour taste of these conferves! 3 Serv. What raiment will your Honour wear to-day? Sly. I am Chriftopher Sly, call not me Honour, nor Lordship: I ne'er drank fack in my life; and if you give me any conferves, give me conferves of beef : ne'er afk me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more ftockings than legs, nor no more fhoes than feet; nay fometimes more feet than fhoes, or fuch fhoes as my toes look through the over-leather. Lord. Heav'n ceafe this idle humour in your Honour ! Oh that a mighty man of such descent, Of fuch poffeffions, and fo high esteem, Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christophero Sly, old Sly's fon of Burton-heath, by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by prefent profeffion a tinker? Afk Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she know me not; if fhe fay I am not fourteen pence on the fcore for fheer ale, fcore me up for the lying'ft knave in Christendom. What! I am not beftraught here's : 1 Man. Oh, this it is that makes your lady mourn. 2 Man. Oh, this it is that makes your fervants droop. Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred fhun your houfe, As beaten hence by your ftrange lunacy. Oh, Noble Lord, bethink thee of thy birth, Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, Look how thy fervants do attend on thee, Wilt thou have mufic? hark, Apollo plays; [Mufic. And twenty caged nightingales do fing. Or wilt thou fleep? we'll have thee to a couch, On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. Say thou wilt walk, we will beftrow the ground: Their harness ftudded all with gold and pearl. I Man. Say thou wilt courfe, thy greyhounds are as As breathed ftags; ay, fleeter than the roe. [fwift, 2 Man. Doft thou love pictures? we will fetch thee Adonis, painted by a running brook; [ftraight And Cytherea all in fedges hid; Which feem to move, and wanton with her breath, Lord. We'll thew thee Io, as fhe was a maid, And how she was beguiled and furpris'd, As lively painted as the deed was done. 3 Man. Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, Scratching her legs, that one fhall fwear the bleeds: And at that fight shall fad Apollo weep: So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. Lord. Thou art a Lord, and nothing but a Lord: Thou haft a Lady far more beautiful Than any woman in this waining age. .I Man. And till the tears that the hath shed for thee, Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face, She was the faireft creature in the world, And yet fhe is inferior to none. Sly. Am I a Lord, and have I fuch a Lady? 2 Man. Wilt please your Mightiness to wash your Oh, how we joy to fee your wits reftor'd! [hands? 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 flept. Sly. Thefe fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap But did I never speak of all that time? 1 Man. Oh, yes, my Lord, but very idle words. For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, And fay, you would prefent her at the leet, 3 Man. Why, Sir, you know no houfe, nor no fuch : And twenty more fuch names and men as thefe, Sly. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!! Sly. By th' mafs, I think I am a Lord indeed. Man. Sim, an't please your Honour. Sly. Sim? that's as much as to fay Simeon or Simon; put forth thy hand and fill the pot. SCENE V. [The fervant gives him drink.. Enter Lady, with attendants.. I thank thee ;- thou shalt not lose by it. 1 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. I know it well: what muft I call her. Sly. Alce Madam, or Joan Madam? Lord. Madam, and nothing elfe; fo Lords call Ladies. Sly. Come, fit down on my knee. Sim, drink to her. Madam wife, they fay that I have dream'd, and flept above fome 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 intreat of you your bed; I hope this reafon stands for my excufe. Sly. Ay, it ftands fo, that I may hardly tarry fo long; but I would be loth to fall into my dream again. will therefore tarry in defpight of the flesh and the blood." SCENE. VI. Enter a Meffenger. Me. Your Honour's players, hearing your amend Are come to play a pleasant comedy; For fo your Doctors hold it very meet, [ment, Seeing too much fadnefs hath congeal'd your blood; Therefore they thought it good you hear a play,, Sly Marry, I will; let them play; is it not a commodity a Chriftmas gambol, or a tumbling trick? Lady. No, my good Lord, it is more pleafing ftuff. Sly. What, houshold ftuff? Lady. It is a kind of hiftory. Sly. Well, we'll fee't: come, Madam wife, fit by my fide, and let the world flip, we fhall ne'er be younger. The 298 The TAMING of the SHREW. Luc. ACT I. SCENE I Aftreet in Padua. Flourish. Enter Lucentio and Tranio. T Ranio, fince for the great- Gave me my being; and my father first, Vincentio his fon, brought up in Florence, Glad that you thus continue your refolve, pray; |