For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, And say, you would present her at the leet, 3 Serv. Why, Sir, you know no house, nor no such maid; Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd up, And twenty more such names and men as these, 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. Where is my wife? Page. Here, noble Lord; What is thy will with her? Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me →→→ My men should call' me→ Lord; I am your good-man.. Page. My husband and my Lord, my Lord and husband; I am your wife in all obedience. Sly. I know it well: Lord. Madam. What must I call her? Sly. Alce Madam, or Joan Madam? 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 and more. Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me; v 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; Or, if not so, until the sun be set: For your physicians have exprefsly charg'd, In peril to incur your former malady, 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 Servant. Serv. Your Honour's players, hearing your amend ment, 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, 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 Commonty a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick? Page. No, my good Lord; it is more pleasing stuff. Sly. What houshould stuff? Page. It is a kind of history. Sly. Well, we'll seet: Come, Madam wife, sit by my side, and let the world slip; we shall ne'er be [They sit down. younger. Padua. A public Place. Enter LUCENTIO and TRANÍO, Luc. Tranio, since for the great desire I had And, by my father's love and leave, am arm' Gave me my being, and my father first, Vincentio his son, brought up in Florence Glad that you thus continue your resolve, As Ovid be an out-cast quite abjur'd: Talk logick with acquaintance that you have, The mathematicks, and the metaphysicks, Fall to them, as you find your stomach serves you: No profit grows, where is no pleasure ta'en; In brief, Sir, study what your most affect. Luc. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise.. Such friends as time in Padua shall beget. Tra. Master, some show, to welcome us to town. Enter BAPTISTA, KATHARINA, BIANCA, GREMIO, and HORTENSIO. LUCENTIO and TRANIO stand aside. Eap. Gentlemen, impórtune me no further, For how I firmly am resolv'd you know; That. is, not to bestow my youngest daugther, Before I have a husband for the elder: If either of you both love Ka harina, Because I know you well, and love you well, Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure. Gre. To cart her rather: She's too rough for me:There, there Hortensio, will you any wife? Kath. I pray you, Sir, [To BAP.] is it your will To make a stale of me amongst these mates? Hor. Mates, maid! how mean you that? no mates for you, Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. Kath. I'faith, Sir, you shall never need to fear; I wis, it is not half way to her heart: But, if it were, doubt not, her care should be Hor. From all such devils, good Lord, deliver us! Tra. Hush, Master!, here is some good pastime toward; That wench is stark mad, or wonderful froward. Peace, Tranio. Tra. Well said, Master; mum! and gaze your fill. Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good What I have said, - Bianca, get you in: And let it not displease thee, good Bianca; For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl. Kath. A pretty peat! 'tis best Put finger in the eye, -- and 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. [Aside. Hor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange? Sorry am I, that our good will effects Bianca's grief. Gre. Wh, will you mew her up, Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell, And make her bear the penance of her tongue? |