Exit a Servingman
I know the boy will well usurp the grace,
Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman.
I long to hear him call the drunkard husband,
And how my men will stay themselves from laughter
When they do homage to this simple peasant.
I’ll in to counsel them. Haply my presence
May well abate the over-merry spleen
Which otherwise would grow into extremes.
Exeunt
Induction 2
Enter aloft Sly, the drunkard, with attendants, some with apparel, basin, and ewer, and other appurtenances; and Lord
SLY For God’s sake, a pot of small ale!
FIRST SERVINGMAN
Will’t please your lordship drink a cup of sack?
SECOND SERVINGMAN
Will’t please your honour taste of these conserves?
THIRD SERVINGMAN
What raiment will your honour wear today?
SLY I am Christophero Sly. Call not me ‘honour’ nor ‘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, sometime 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,
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 Burton Heath, by birth a pedlar, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a bearherd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat alewife 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 lying‘st knave in Christendom. What, I am not bestraught; here’s—
THIRD SERVINGMAN
O, this it is that makes your lady mourn.
SECOND SERVINGMAN
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.
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?
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 trimmed up for Semiramis.
Say thou wilt walk, we will bestrew the ground.
Or wilt thou ride, thy horses shall be trapped,
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
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.
FIRST SERVINGMAN
Say thou wilt course, thy greyhounds are as swift
As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.
SECOND SERVINGMAN
Dost thou love pictures? We will fetch thee straight
Adonis painted by a running brook,
And Cytherea all in sedges hid,
Which seem to move and wanton with her breath
Even as the waving sedges play wi’th’ wind.
LORD
We’ll show thee Io as she was a maid,
And how she was beguiled and surprised,
As lively painted as the deed was done.
THIRD SERVINGMAN
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.
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 SERVINGMAN
And till the tears that she hath shed for thee
Like envious floods o’errun 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 dreamed till now?
I do not sleep. I see, I hear, I speak.
I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things.
Upon my life, I am a lord indeed,
And not a tinker, nor Christopher Sly.
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight,
And once again a pot o’th’ smallest ale.
SECOND SERVINGMAN
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.
SLY
These fifteen years—by my fay, a goodly nap.
But did I never speak of all that time?
FIRST SERVINGMAN
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,
And rail upon the hostess of the house,
And say you would present her at the leet
Because she brought stone jugs and no sealed quarts.
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
SLY Ay, the woman’s maid of the house.
THIRD SERVINGMAN
Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such maid,
Nor no such men as you have reckoned up,
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greet,
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernel,
And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.
SLY
Now Lord be thankèd for my good amends.
ALL Amen.
SLY I thank thee. Thou shalt not lose by it.
Enter Bartholomew the Page, as Lady, with attendants
BARTHOLOMEW
How fares my noble lord?
SLY
Marry, I fare well,
For here is cheer enough. Where is my wife?
BARTHOLOMEW
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.
BARTHOLOMEW
My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;
I am your wife in all obedience.
SLY
I know it well. (
To the Lord
) What must I call her?
LORD Madam.
SLY Al’ce Madam or Joan Madam?
LORD
Madam, and nothing else. So lords call ladies.
SLY
Madam wife, they say that I have dreamed,
And slept above some fifteen year or more.
BARTHOLOMEW
Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,
Being all this time abandoned from your bed.
SLY
Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone.
Exeunt [Lord and] attendants
Madam, undress you and come now to bed.
BARTHOLOMEW
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 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.
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.
MESSENGER
Your honour’s players, hearing your amendment,
Are come to play a pleasant comedy,
For so your doctors hold it very meet,
Seeing too much sadness hath congealed 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 comonty
A Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick?
BARTHOLOMEW
No, my good lord, it is more pleasing stuff.
SLY
What, household stuff?
BARTHOLOMEW
It is a kind of history.
SLY
Well, we’ll see’t. Come, madam wife, sit by my side
And let the world slip. We shall ne’er be younger.
1.1
Flourish. Enter Lucentio and his man, Tranio
LUCENTIO
Tranio, since for the great desire I had
To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,
I am arrived fore fruitful Lombardy,
The pleasant garden of great Italy,
And by my father’s love and leave am armed
With his good will and thy good company,
My trusty servant, well approved 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, come of the Bentivolii.
Vincentio’s son, brought up in Florence,
It shall become to serve all hopes conceived
To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds.
And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,
Virtue and that part of philosophy
Will I apply that treats of happiness
By virtue specially to be achieved.
Tell me thy mind, for I have Pisa left
And am to Padua come as he that leaves
A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep,
And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst.
TRANIO
Mi perdonate,
gentle master mine.
I am in all affected as yourself,
Glad that you thus continue your resolve
To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy.
Only, good master, while we do admire
This virtue and this moral discipline,
Let’s be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray,
Or so devote to Aristotle’s checks
As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured.
Balk logic with acquaintance that you have,
And practise rhetoric in your common talk.
Music and poesy use to quicken you;
The mathematics and the metaphysics,
Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you.
No profit grows where is no pleasure ta’en.
In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
LUCENTIO
Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise.
If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore,
We could at once put us in readiness
And take a lodging fit to entertain
Such friends as time in Padua shall beget.
But stay a while, what company is this?
TRANIO
Master, some show to welcome us to town.
Enter Baptista with his two daughters, Katherine and Bianca; Gremio, a pantaloon; Hortensio, suitor to Bianca. Lucentio and Tranio stand by
BAPTISTA
Gentlemen, importune me no farther,
For how I firmly am resolved you know:
That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter
Before I have a husband for the elder.
If either of you both love Katherina,
Because I know you well and love you well
Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure.
GREMIO
To cart her rather. She’s too rough for me.
There, there, Hortensio. Will you any wife?
KATHERINE (to
Baptista)
I pray you, sir, is it your will
To make a stale of me amongst these mates?
HORTENSIO
‘Mates’, maid? How mean you that? No mates for
you
Unless you were of gentler, milder mould.
KATHERINE
I’faith, sir, you shall never need to fear.
Iwis it is not half-way to her heart,
But if it were, doubt not her care should be
To comb your noddle with a three-legged stool,
And paint your face, and use you like a fool.
HORTENSIO
From all such devils, good Lord deliver us.
GREMIO And me too, good Lord.
TRANIO
(aside
to Lucentio)
Husht, master, here’s some good pastime toward.
That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward.
LUCENTIO
(aside
to
Tranio)
But in the other’s silence do I see
Maid’s mild behaviour and sobriety.
Peace, Tranio.
TRANIO
(aside
to Lucentio)
Well said, master. Mum, and gaze your fill.