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So we wept; and there was the first gentleman- Which lets go by some sixteen years, and like tears that ever we shed.

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Shep. We may live, son, to shed many more. Clo. Ay; or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous estate as we are.

Aut. I humbly beseech you, Sir, to pardon me all the faults I have committed to your worship, and to give me your good report to the prince my master.

Shep. Pr'ythee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we an gentlemen.

Clo. Thou wilt amend thy life?

Aut. Ay, an it like your good worship. Clo. Give me thy hand: I will swear to the prince, thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in Bobemia.

Shep. You may say it, but not swear it. Clo. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman ? Let boors and franklins say it, I'll swear it. Shep. How if it be false, son?

Clo. If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman may swear it, in the behalf of his friend :-And I'll swear to the prince, thou art a tall + fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt not be drunk; but I know, thou art no tall fellow of thy bands, and that thou wilt be drunk; but I'll swear it and I would, thou would'st be a tall fellow of thy hands.

Aut. I will prove so, Sir, to my power. Clo. Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow : If I do not wonder, how thou darest venture to be drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust me not.-Hark! the kings and the princes, our kindred, are going to see the queen's picture. Come, follow us: we'll be thy good masters.

makes ber

As she liv'd now.

Leon. As now she might have done,
So much to my good comfort, as it is
Now piercing to my soul. Oh? thus she stood,
Even with such life of majesty, (warm life,
As now it coldly stands,) when first I woo'd
⚫her!

I am asham'd: Does not the stone rebuke me,
For being more stone than it 1-O royal piece,
There's magic in thy majesty; which bas
My evils conjur'd to remembrance; and
From thy admiring daughter took the spirits,
Standing like stone with thee!

Per. And give me leave;

And do not say, 'tis superstition, that

I kneel, and then implore her blessing.-Lady,
Dear queen, that ended when I but began,
Give me that hand of your's, to kiss.
Paul. O patience,

The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour's
Not dry.

Cam. My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on;

Which sixteen winters cannot blow away,
So many summers, dry scarce any joy
Did ever so long live; no sorrow,
But kill'd itself much sooner.

Pol. Dear my brother,

Let him that was the cause of this, have power
To take off so much grief from you as he
Will piece up in himself.

Paul. Indeed, my lord,

If I had thought the sight of my poor image · [Exeunt. Would thus have wrought you, (for the stone is mine,)

SCENE III-The same.~A Room in PAUL. INA's House.

I'd not have show'd it.

Leon. Do not draw the curtain.

Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't; lest
your fancy

Enter LEONTES, POLIXENES, FLORIZEL, PER-
DITA, CAMILLO, PAULINA, Lords, and At-May think anon, it moves.

tendants.

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In many singularities; but we saw not
That which my daughter came to look upon,
The statue of her mother.

Paul. As she liv'd peerless,

So her dead likeness, I do well believe,
Excels whatever yet you looked upon,

Or hand of mau hath done therefore I keep it
Lonely apart: But here it is prepare
To see the life as lively mock'd, as ever [well.
Still sleep mock'd death: behold; and say, 'tis
(PAULINA undraws a Curtain, and dis-
covers a statue.

I like your silence, it the more shows off
Your wonder: But yet speak ;-first, you, my
Comes it not something near?
[liege

Leon. Her natural posture!
Chide me, dear stone; that I may say, indeed,
Thon art Hermione: or, rather, thou art she,
In thy not chiding; for she was as tender,
As infancy and grace.-But yet, Paulina,
Hermione was not so much wrinkled; nothing
So aged, as this seems.

Pol. Oh! not by much.

Paul. So much the more our carver's excellence :

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Leon. Let be, let be,

Would I were dead, but that methinks already[lord, What was he, that did make it?-See, my Would you not deem, it breath'd? and that those veins Did verily bear blood?

Pol. Masterly done:

The very life seems warm upon her lip.
Leon. The fixure of her eye has motion in't †
As we are mock'd with art.

Paul. I'll draw the curtain ;

My lord's almost so far transported, that
He'll think anon, it lives.

Leon. O sweet Paulina,

Make me to think so twenty years together;
No settled senses of the world can match
The pleasure of that madness. Let't alone.
Paul. I am sorry, Sir, I have thus far stirr'd
you but

I could afflict you further.
Leon. Do, Paulina;

For this affliction has a taste as sweet
As any cordial comfort.-Still, methinks,
There is an air comes from her: What fine
chisel

[me, Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock For I will kiss her.

Paul. Good my lord, forbear:
The ruddiness upon her lip is wet:
You'll mar it, if you kiss it; stain your own
With oily painting: Shall I draw the curtaiu?
Leon. No, not these twenty years.

Per. So long could I
Stand by, a looker on.

Paul. Either forbear,

Quit presently the chapel; or resolve you
For more amazement: If you can behold it,
I'll make the statue move indeed; descend,

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Paul. Music; awake her strike.- [Music. 'Tis time; descend; be stone no more: approach:

Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come;
I'll fill your grave up stir; nay, come away;
Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him
Dear life redeems you.-You perceive, she stirs
[HERMIONE comes down from the Pedestal.
Start not her actions shall be holy, as,
You hear, my spell is lawful: do not shun her,
Until you see her die again; for then
You kill her double: Nay, present your hand :
When she was young, you woo'd her; now, in
age,

Is she become the suitor.

Leon. Oh! she's warm!

[Embracing her.

If this be magic, let it be an art Lawful as eating.

Pol. She embraces him.

Cam. She bangs about his neck;

If she pertain to life, let her speak too.

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Thy father's court for thou shalt bear, that 1,Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle

Gave hope thou wast in being,-have preserv'd Myself, to see the issue.

Paul. There's time enough for that; Lest they desire, upon this push to trouble Your joys with like relation.-Go together, You precious winners all; your exultation Partake to every one. I, an old turtle, Will wing me to some wither'd bough; and there My mate, that's never to be found again, Lament till I am lost.

Leon. O peace, Paulina;

Thou should'st a busband take by my conset,
As I by thine, a wife: this is a match,
And made between's by vows. Thou hast found
mine;

But how, is to be question'd: for I saw her,
As I thought, dead; and have, in vain, said masy
A prayer upon her grave: I'll not seek far
(For him, I partly know his mind,) to find ther
An honourable husband:-Come, Camille,
And take her by the hand: whose worth, and
honesty,

Is richly noted; and here justified

By us, a pair of kings.-Let's from this place.— What?-Look upon my brother 1-both your

pardons,

That e'er I put between your holy looks

Pol. Ay, and make't manifest where she has My ill suspicion.-This your son-in-law,

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TAMING OF THE SHREW.

LITERARY AND HISTORICAL NOTICE.

WARBURTON and Farmer have questioned the authenticity of this play; one declaring it to be certainly spari. ous, and the other supposing that Shakspeare merely adapted it to the stage, with certain additions and cor rections. Malone, however, upon very satisfactory grounds, ranks it among the earliest efforts of Shakspeare's muse; as it abounds with the doggrel measure so common in the old comedies immediately preceding the time at which he commenced writing for the stage; and with a tiresome play upon words, which he took occasion to condemn in one of his subsequent comedies. The year 1549 is the probable date of its production. Yet Steevens discovers the hand of Shakspeare in almost every scene; and Johnson considers the whole play very popular, sprightly, and diverting. "The two plots (says the learned Doctor) are so well united, that they can hardly be called two, without injury to the art with which they are interwoven." That part of the story which suggests the title of the play, is probably a work of invention. The under-plot, which comprises the love-scenes of Lucentio, the pleasing incident of the pedant, with the characters of Vincentio, Tranio, Gremio and Biondello, is taken from a comedy of George Gascoigne's (an author of considerable popularity) called Supposes, translated from Ariosto's I Suppositi, and acted in 1566, by the gentlemen of Grey's Inn. The singular Induction to this piece is taken from Goulart's "Histories admirables de notre temps,” in which its leading circumstance is related as a real fact, practised upon a mean artisau at Brussels, by Philip the Good duke of Burgundy. The Taming of the Shrew condensed within the compass of a modern after-piece invariably elicits considerable mirth; for the respective parts of Katharina and Petruchio are exceedingly spirited, Indicrous, and diverting. But, in its present form, many of the scenes are unpardonably tedious, and many of the incidents perplexingly involved. To those who look for "sermons in stones, and good in every thing," we cannot exactly point out the moral of this domestic occurrence; since the successful issue of Petruchio's experiment in one solitary instance, will scarcely warrant its practical repetition in any of the numerous cases which seem to call for a similar remedy.

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SCENE, sometimes in Padua; and sometimes in Petruchio's House in the Country.

CHARACTERS in the InDUCTION

To the original Play of The Taming of a Shrew, entered on the Stationers' Books in 1594, and printed in quarto, in 1607.

A LORD, &c.

SLY.

A Tapster.

Page, Players, Huntsmen, &c.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

ALPHONSUS, a merchant of Athens.

JEROBEL, Duke of Cestus.

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PHYLEMA,

Suitors to the D

rando and Alphonsus.

AURELIUS, his Son, Suitors to the Daughters Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants to Fe

FERANDO,

POLIDOR,

SCENE, Albens; and sometimes Ferando's Country House.

INDUCTION.

And say, —Will't please your lordship cool your bands?

SCENE I-Before an Alehouse on a Heath. Some one be ready with a costly suit,

Enter HOSTESS and SLY.

Sly. I'll pheese⚫ you, in faith. Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue ! Sly. Y'are a baggage; the Slies are no rogues: Look in the chronicles, we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore, paucas pallabris; + let the world slide: Sessa ft

Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? §

Sly. No, not a denier: Go by, says Jeronimy ; -Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.

Host. I know my remedy, I must go fetch the thirdborough. ¶ Exit. Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'l answer him by law; I'll not budge an inch, boy; let him come, and kindly.

[Lies down on the ground and falls asleep. Wind horns. Enter a LORD from hunting, with huntsmen and servants.

Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds: Brach⚫ Merriman,-the poor cur is emboss'd,++ And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd

brach.

Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault f
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
1 Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my
He cried upon it at the merest loss, flord;
And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent:
Trust me, I take him for the better dog.

Lord. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fleet,
I would esteem him worth a dozen such.
But sup them well, and look unto them all;
To-morrow I intend to hunt again.

1 Hun. I will, my lord.

Lord. What's here ? one dead, or drunk ↑ See, doth he breathe ?

2 Hun. He breathes, my lord: Were he not warm'd with ale,

This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.
Lord. O monstrous beast! how like a swine
he lies!
[image!
Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine
Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man, →→→→
What think you, if he were convey'd to bed,
Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his
fingers,

A most delicious banquet by his bed,
And brave attendants near him when he wakes
Would not the beggar then forget himself?
1 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot

choose.

And ask him what apparel be will wear;
Another tell him of his hounds and horse,
And that his lady mourns at his disease:
Persuade him, that he hath been lunatic;
And, when he says he is-, say, that be dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty lord.
This do, and do it kindly, gentle Sirs;
It will be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modesty.†

1 Hun. My lord, I warrant you, we'll play our part,

As he shall think, by our true diligence,
He is no less than what we say he is.
Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with
him:

And each one to his office, when he wakes.—

[Some bear out SLY. A trumpet sounds. Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds— [Erit SERVASTBelike, some noble gentleman; that means, Travelling some journey, to repose him here.Re-enter a SERVANT.

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Lord. 'Tis very true;-thon didst it excellent.

Well, you are come to me in happy time; The rather for I have some sport in hand, Wherein your cunning can assist me much. There is a lord will hear you play to-night: But I am doubtful of your modesties: Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour, (For yet his honour never heard a play,) You break into some merry passion, And so offend him: for I tell you, Sirs, If you should smile, he grows impatient. i Play. Fear not, my lord: we can contai ourselves, :-Were be the veriest antick in the world.

Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd.

Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worth

less fancy.

Then take him up, and manage well the jest
Carry him gently to my fairest chamber,
And hang it round with all my wanton pic-

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Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the battery, And give them friendly welcome every one: Let them want nothing that my house affords. [Exeunt SERVANT and PLAYERS. Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page, [To a SERVANT. And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady: That done, conduct him to the drunkard's cham ber,

And call him-madám, do him obeisance,—
Tell him from me, (as he will win my love,-
He bear himself with honourable action,
Such as he bath observ'd in noble ladies
Unto their lords, by them accomplished:
Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy ;
And say,-What is't your honour will com
mand,

Wherein your lady, and your humble wife,
May show her duty, and make known her Love!

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And then-with kiud embracements, tempting
kisses,

And with declining head into his bosom,
Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd
To see her noble lord restor'd to bealth,
Who, for twice seven years, hath esteemed him
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar:
And if the boy have not a woman's gift,
To rain a shower of commanded tears,
An onion will do well for such a shift;
Which in a napkin being close convey'd,
Sball in despite enforce a watery eye.
See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst;
Anou I'll give thee more instructions.~~~~
[Exit SERVANT.
I know, the boy will wel! 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 connsel them: haply my presence
May well abate the over-merry spleen,
Which otherwise would grow into extremes.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

A Bedchamber in the LORD's House. SLY is discovered in a rich night gown, with attendants; some with apparel, others with bason, ewer, and other appurtenances. Enter LORD, dressed like a Servant.

Sly. For God's sake a pot of small ale.

1 Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack ?

2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these conserves ?

3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day?

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As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.
2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch
thee straight

Adonis, painted by a running brook:
And Cytherea all in sedges bid;
[breath,
Which seem to move and wanton with ber
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.
Lord. We'll show thee lo, as she was a maid;
And how she was beguiled and surpris'd,
As lively painted as the deed was done.

3 Serv. 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.

1 Serv. And, till the tears that she hath shed
for thee,
Like envious floods, o'er-ran 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 1 dream'd till now?
I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak ;

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

2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands?

I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things :Upon my life, I am a lord, indeed; And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly.Sty. I am Christophero Sly; call not me-Well, bring our lady hither to our sight; honour, nor lordship: I never 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 thau feet; nay, 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!

Oh! that a mighty man, of such descent,
Of such possessions, and so high esteem,
Should be infused with so foul a spirit!

[SERVANTS present an ewer, basin, and
napkin.

Oh! how we joy to see your wit restor❜d!
Oh! that once more you knew but what you

are !

These fifteen years you have been in a dream;
Or, when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept.
Sly. These fifteen years, by my fay, a goodly

nap.

Bat did I never speak of all that time!

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

Sig. What, would you make nie mad? Am 1 Serv. O yes, my lord; but very idle words :not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton For though you lay here in this goodly chamber, beath; by birth a pedlar, by education a card-Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of door; maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? 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--

1 Serv. Oh! this it is, that makes your lady

mourn.

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quarts:

Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
3 Serv. Why, Sir, you know no bouse, nor
no such maid;

Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd up,-
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell;
And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no inan ever saw.

Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good
amends!

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