THE TAMING OF THE SHREW INDUCTION.2

a word from our sponsors

The First Web Folio Edition of Shakespeare's Works

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW INDUCTION.2

A bedchamber in the Lord's house.

[Enter aloft SLY, with Attendants; some with apparel,

others with basin and ewer and appurtenances; and Lord]

SLY For God's sake, a pot of small ale.

First Servant Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack?

Second Servant Will't please your honour taste of these conserves?

Third Servant What raiment will your honour wear to-day?

SLY I am Christophero Sly; call not me 'honour' nor 5

'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, 10

sometimes more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my

toes look through the over-leather.

Lord Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour!

O, that a mighty man of such descent,

Of such possessions and so high esteem, 15

Should be infused with so foul a spirit!

SLY What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher

Sly, old Sly's son of Burtonheath, by birth a

pedlar, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a

bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? 20

Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife 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-- 25

Third Servant O, this it is that makes your lady mourn!

Second Servant O, this is it that makes your servants droop!

Lord Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,

As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.

O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth, 30

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, 35

[Music]

And twenty caged nightingales do sing:

Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch

Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed

On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.

Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground: 40

Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd,

Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.

Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar

Above the morning lark or wilt thou hunt?

Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them 45

And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.

First Servant Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift

As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.

Second Servant Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight

Adonis painted by a running brook, 50

And Cytherea all in sedges hid,

Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,

Even as the waving sedges play with wind.

Lord We'll show thee Io as she was a maid,

And how she was beguiled and surprised, 55

As lively painted as the deed was done.

Third Servant Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,

Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds,

And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,

So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. 60

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 Servant And till the tears that she hath shed for thee

Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face, 65

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 see, I hear, I speak; 70

I smell sweet savours 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 sight;

And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale. 75

Second Servant Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands?

O, how we joy to see your wit restored!

O, that once more you knew but what you are!

These fifteen years you have been in a dream;

Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept. 80

SLY These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap.

But did I never speak of all that time?

First Servant O, yes, my lord, but very idle words:

For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,

Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door; 85

And rail upon the hostess of the house;

And say you would present her at the leet,

Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts:

Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.

SLY Ay, the woman's maid of the house. 90

Third Servant Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid,

Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up,

As Stephen Sly and did John Naps of Greece

And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell

And twenty more such names and men as these 95

Which never were nor no man ever saw.

SLY Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!

ALL Amen.

SLY I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it.

[Enter the Page as a lady, with attendants]

Page How fares my noble lord? 100

SLY Marry, I fare well for here is cheer enough.

Where is my wife?

Page Here, noble lord: what is thy will with her?

SLY Are you my wife and will not call me husband?

My men should call me 'lord:' I am your goodman. 105

Page 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 Al'ce madam, or Joan madam? 110

Lord 'Madam,' and nothing else: so lords

call ladies.

SLY Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd

And slept above some fifteen year or more.

Page Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me, 115

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.

Page Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you

To pardon me yet for a night or two, 120

Or, if not so, until the sun be set:

For your physicians have expressly charged,

In peril to incur your former malady,

That I should yet absent me from your bed:

I hope this reason stands for my excuse. 125

SLY Ay, it stands so that I may hardly

tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into

my dreams again: I will therefore tarry in

despite of the flesh and the blood.

[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger Your honour's players, heating your amendment, 130

Are come to play a pleasant comedy;

For so your doctors hold it very meet,

Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood,

And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy:

Therefore they thought it good you hear a play 135

And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,

Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.

SLY Marry, I will, let them play it. Is not a

comondy a Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick?

Page No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff. 140

SLY What, household stuff?

Page It is a kind of history.

SLY Well, well see't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side

and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.

[Flourish]

This edition copyright © 2000 Dana Spradley, Publisher, shakespeare.com. Originally derived from the Complete Moby Shakespeare(tm), which is now in the public domain.
'The First Web Folio Edition' is a trademark of Dana Spradley, Publisher, shakespeare.com. All rights reserved.

If you're not reading this on shakespeare.com, you're in the wrong place.


		[Enter aloft SLY, with Attendants; some with apparel,
		others with basin and ewer and appurtenances; and Lord]

SLY	I am Christophero Sly; call not me 'honour' nor	5
	'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,	10
	sometimes more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my
	toes look through the over-leather.

Lord	Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour!
	O, that a mighty man of such descent,
	Of such possessions and so high esteem,	15
	Should be infused with so foul a spirit!

SLY	What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher
	Sly, old Sly's son of Burtonheath, by birth a
	pedlar, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a
	bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker?	20
	Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife 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--	25

Lord	Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,
	As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.
	O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth,	30
	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,	35
	[Music]
	And twenty caged nightingales do sing:
	Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch
	Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
	On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.
	Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground:	40
	Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd,
	Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
	Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar
	Above the morning lark or wilt thou hunt?
	Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them	45
	And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.

First Servant		Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift
		As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.

Second Servant	Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight
	Adonis painted by a running brook,	50
	And Cytherea all in sedges hid,
	Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
	Even as the waving sedges play with wind.

Lord	We'll show thee Io as she was a maid,
	And how she was beguiled and surprised,	55
	As lively painted as the deed was done.

Third Servant	Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,
	Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds,
	And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
	So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.	60

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 Servant	And till the tears that she hath shed for thee
	Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face,	65
	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 see, I hear, I speak;	70
	I smell sweet savours 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 sight;
	And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.	75

Second Servant	Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands?
	O, how we joy to see your wit restored!
	O, that once more you knew but what you are!
	These fifteen years you have been in a dream;
	Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept.	80

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

First Servant	O, yes, my lord, but very idle words:
	For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
	Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door;	85
	And rail upon the hostess of the house;
	And say you would present her at the leet,
	Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts:
	Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.

Third Servant	Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid,
	Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up,
	As Stephen Sly and did John Naps of Greece
	And Peter Turph and Henry Pimpernell
	And twenty more such names and men as these	95
	Which never were nor no man ever saw.

SLY		I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it.
		[Enter the Page as a lady, with attendants]

SLY		Marry, I fare well for here is cheer enough.
		Where is my wife?

SLY		Are you my wife and will not call me husband?
		My men should call me 'lord:' I am your goodman.	105

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

SLY		Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd
		And slept above some fifteen year or more.

Page		Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,	115
		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.

Page	Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you
	To pardon me yet for a night or two,	120
	Or, if not so, until the sun be set:
	For your physicians have expressly charged,
	In peril to incur your former malady,
	That I should yet absent me from your bed:
	I hope this reason stands for my excuse.	125

SLY		Ay, it stands so that I may hardly
		tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into
		my dreams again: I will therefore tarry in
		despite of the flesh and the blood.
		[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	Your honour's players, heating your amendment,	130
	Are come to play a pleasant comedy;
	For so your doctors hold it very meet,
	Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood,
	And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy:
	Therefore they thought it good you hear a play	135
	And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
	Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.

SLY		Marry, I will, let them play it. Is not a
		comondy a Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick?

SLY		Well, well see't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side
		and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.
		[Flourish]

	Type or paste text or Web address (beginning with http://) here: http://www.shakespeare.com/FirstFolio/THE_TAMING_OF_THE_SHREW/INDUCTION.2.html
	Powered by Systran	Translate from: