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Characters in the Induction.
Christopher Sly, a drunken Tinker.
to be play'd.
Page, Players, Huntfmen, and other Servants attending on the Lord.
Baptifta, Father to Catharina and Bianca; very rich. Vincentio, an old gentleman of Pifa.
Lucentio, Son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca. Petruchio, a Gentleman of Verona, a fuitor to Catharina Gremio,
} Pretenders to Bianca.
} Servants to Lucentio.
Grumio, Servant to Petruchio.
Pedant, an old fellow fet up to perfonate Vincentio
Catharina, the Shrew.
Taylor, Haberdashers; with Servants attending on Baptifta, and Petruchio.
SCENE, fometimes in Padua; and fometimes in Petruchio's House in the Country.
Before an Alehoufe on a Heath.
Enter Hoftefs and Sly.
"'LL pheese you,' in faith.
Hoft. A pair of ftocks, you rogtie!
Sly. Y'are a baggage; the Slies are norogues. Look in the Chronicles, we came in with Richard Conqueror; therefore, paucus pallabris; let the world fide: Sella.
I'll pheese you,-] To phesze or feafe, is to feparate a twift into fingle threads. In the figutative fenfe it may well enough be taken, like teaze or toze, for to barrass, to plague. Perhaps Ill pheeze you, may be equivalent to I'll comb your head, a phrafe vulgarly used by perfons of Sly's character on like occafions,
no rogues.] That is, no vagrants, no mean fellows, but Gentlemen.
2-paucus pallabris;] Sly as an ignorant Fellow, is purpofely made to aim at Languages out of his Knowledge, and knock the words out of Joint. The Spaniards lay, pocas palabras, i. e. few words: as they do likewise, Ceffa, i. e. be quiet. THEOB.
Hoft. You will not pay for the glaffes you have burst? Sly. No, not a denier: go by, Jeronimothy cold bed, and warm thee.
Hoft. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the Thirdborough.
Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by law; I'll not budge an inch, boy; let him come, and kindly. [Falls afleep.
3 Go by S. Jeronimy, go to thy in Effect, "Don't be troublecold Bed, and warm thee.] All" fom, don't interrupt me, go, the Editions have coined a Saint "by ;" and, to fix the Satire in here, for Sly to fwear by. But his Allufion, pleafantly calls her the Poet had no fuch Intentions. Jeronymo. THEOBALD. The Paffage has particular Hu- -I must go fetch the Headmour in it, and must have been borough. very pleafing at that time of day. But I must clear up a Piece of Stage history, to make it underflood. There is a fuftian old Play, call'd, Hieronymo; Or, The Spanish Tragedy: which, I find, was the common Butt of Rallery to all the Poets of Shakefeare's Time: and a Paffage, that appear'd very ridiculous in that Play, is here humorously alluded to. Hieronymo, thinking himself injur'd, applies to the King for Juftice; but the Courtiers, who did not defire his Wrongs fhould be fet in a true Light, attempt to hinder him from an Audience.
Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth Borough, &c.] This corrupt Reading had pafs'd down through all the Copies, and none of the Editors pretended to guess at the Poet's Conceit. What an infipid, unmeaning Reply does Sly make to his Hoflefs? How do third, or fourth, or fifth Borough relate to Headborough? The Author intended but a poor Witticism, and even That is loft. The Hoftefs would fay, that the'll fetch a Conftable: and this Officer fhe calls by his other Name, a Thirdborough: and upon this Term Sly founds the Conundrum in his Anfwer to her. Who does not perceive, at a fingle glance, fome Conceit started by this certain Correction? There is an Attempt at Wit, tolerable enough for a Tinker, and one drunk too. Third-borough is a Saxon-term fufficiently explain'd by the Gloffaries: and in our Statute-books, no farther back than the 28th Year of Henry VIIIth, we find it used to fignify a Conftable.
Hiero. Juftice, ob! juftice to
Hieronymo. Lor. Back;fee't thou not, the King is busy? Hiero. Ob, is he fo? King. Who is He, that interrupts our Business? Hiero. Not I: Hieronymo, beware; go by, go by. So Sly here, not caring to be dun'd by the Hofefs, cries to her
Wind borns. Enter a Lord from bunting, with a Train. Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds,
Brach, Merriman, the poor cur is imboft; 5
Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my Lord;
Lord. Thou art a fool; if Eccho were as fleet,
Hun. I will, my Lord.
Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? fee, doth he breathe?
Were he not
2 Hun. He breathes, my Lord.
This were a bed but cold, to fleep fo foundly.
Lord. O monftrous beaft! how like a fwine he lies! -Grim death, how foul and loathfome is thy image!Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. What think you, if he were convey'd to bed, Wrapt in fweet cloaths; rings put upon his fingers; A moft delicious banquet by his bed,
s Brach, Merrim n,] Sir T. Hanmer reads, Leech Merriman, that is, apply Jome remedies to Merriman, the poor cur has his onts fwelled. Perhaps we might ead, bathe Merriman, which is
I believe the common practice of hwntfmen, but the prefent reading may stand
tender will my hounds, Brach-Merriman cur is imboft.
And brave attendants near him, when he wakes;
1 Hun. Believe me, Lord, I think he cannot chuse.
Lord. Even as a flatt'ring dream, or worthless fancy. Then take him up, and manage well the jeft: Carry him gently to my faireft chamber, And hang it round with all my wanton pictures; Balm his foul head with warm diftilled waters, And burn fweet wood to make the lodging sweet. Procure me mufick ready, when he wakes, To make a dulcet and a heav'nly found; And if he chance to speak, be ready straight, And with a low fubmiffive reverence
Say, what is it your Honour will command?
Full of rose water, and beftrew'd with flowers;
And fay, will't please your lordship cool your hands?
If it be husbanded with modefty.
Hun. My Lord, I warrant you, we'll play our
As he fhall think, by our true diligence,
He is no less than what we fay he is.
Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with him;
modefty.] By modefly is meant moderation, without fuffering ur merriment to break into any excess.