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THE immediate source of this amusing drama is to be traced in a bombastic comedy, first published in 1594, under the title of, "A Pleasant Conceited Historie called The Taming of a Shrew, As it was sundry times acted by the Right Honourable the Earle of Pembrook his servants." The author of this production is unknown, but there appears to be reasonable grounds for believing it to have been written by Marlowe; unless, indeed, several imitations of passages in that writer are to be regarded as plagiarisms. It was very popular, having been reprinted in 1596 and 1607; and Shakespeare's obligations to it were doubtlessly notorious and acknowledged. He appears, in fact, to have taken no pains to conceal the extent of them. The title of his play differs only in a particle; and, if we except an incident adopted from Gascoigne's translation of the Suppositi of Ariosto, the story and the method of its treatment are the same in both dramas.

The source of the "Induction," which appears to me to be one of the choicest fragments in Shakespeare's comedies, is of oriental origin, and will recall the memory of every reader to the adventures of Abou Hassan in the Arabian-Nights. The story occurs under a great variety of forms in European literature, but some of its romantic character has been lost in its transmission. It was probably first read by Shakespeare in a collection of stories by Richard Edwards, which appeared in 1570-a book which was seen by Warton, but has since been lost, and a portion only recently recovered by Mr. Norton, of Liverpool. The Taming of the Shrew was first published in the folio of 1623. It was not mentioned by Meres in 1598; and, although that circumstance is only a kind of negative evidence, I am inclined to place the date of its composition after that year. Sir John Harrington, in 1596, mentions the older play, which would lead us to believe it had not then been superseded by Shakespeare's. Mr. Collier would assign a date after 1601, the name Baptista being improperly used in Hamlet, an error which was corrected in the Taming of the Shrew. There is, however, great uncertainty in reasoning on minute indications of this cha

racter.

A sequel or imitation of the Taming of the Shrew, under the title of, The Woman's Prize,

or the Tamer Tam'd, was written by Fletcher, and is mentioned by Herbert, as "an ould play," as early as 1633. The exact date of its composition is not known. In this play Katharina is supposed to be dead, and Petrucio married to another lady, who, with the assistance of her companions, tames the unruly husband who has cured the shrew in Shakespeare's play. It is almost unnecessary to say that Petrucio's individuality, as pourtrayed by Shakespeare, is not preserved by Fletcher; but the Woman's Prize is, nevertheless, an amusing drama; and when acted before the Court in 1633, it seems to have given greater satisfaction than the other. Herbert's memoranda are as follow:-"On Tusday night, at St. James, the 26 of Novemb. 1633, was acted before the King and Queene The Taminge of the Shrew: Likt.-On Thursday night, at St. James, the 28 of Novemb. 1633, was acted before the King and Queene The Tamer Tamd, made by Fletcher: Very well likt."

The original MS., containing these curious entries, is preserved at Powis Castle, the seat of the Earls of Powis. The MS. is, perhaps, the most curious record of early English plays known to be extant.

The Taming of the Shrew can only be correctly estimated by bearing in mind the manners and tendencies of the age in which it was written. We must recollect that the power of gentlenessits efficiency greater than force moving to gentleness-is a truth only just now beginning to be recognised. Shakespeare was one of the few writers of his time that appreciated this influence; and even in illustrating the then vernacular method of charming a woman's tongue, he has encompassed it with sufficient frolic to soften the unpleasing purpose of the story. Katharina, however, is not an ordinary type. Vixenish, proud, and dominant, she is subdued by the exhibition rather than by the action of power; by the observation of the continual proof of Petrucio's indomitable disposition, and the obvious impossibility of attempting to control it. She does not perceive that much of his character is assumed: but he is, in fact, a humorist of great power, and conquers Katharina by a succession of jests and practical jokes of his own invention.

* i. e. Take our parts, support and defend us.

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BAPTISTA, a rich Gentleman of Padua.
VINCENTIO, an old Gentleman of Pisa.
LUCENTIO, Son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca.
PETRUCIO, a Gentleman of Verona, a Suitor to
Katharina.

GREMIO, Suitor to Bianca.

Servants to Lucentio.

GRUMIO, Servants to Petrucio.

CURTIS,

Pedant, an old fellow set up to personate Vincentio.
KATHARINA, the Shrew,
BIANCA, her Sister,
Daughters to Baptista.
Widow.

Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants, attending on
Baptista and Petrució.

SCENE. Sometimes in Padua; and sometimes in Petrucio's House in the Country.
A most delicious banquet by his bed,
And brave attendants near him when he wakes,
Would not the beggar then forget himself?

Introduction.

SCENE I.-Before an Alehouse on a Heath.
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 !+
[have burst?
Host. You will not pay for the glasses you
Sly. No, not a denier! Go by, St. 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'll 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?
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
1 Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my
lord;

He cried upon it at the merest loss,
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 conveyed to bed,
Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his
fingers,

*Beat or knock. + Few words. + Be quiet. ? This line and the scrap of Spanish is used in burlesque from an old play called Hieronymo, or the Spanish Tragedy.

1 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.

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

Lord. Even as a flatt'ring dream, or worthless 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 pictures:
Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet:
Procure me music ready when he wakes,
To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound;
And if he chance to speak, be ready straight,
And, with a low submissive reverence,
Say, What is it your honour will command?
Let one attend him with a silver bason,
Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers;
Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,
And say,-Will 't please your lordship cool your
hands?

Some one be ready with a costly suit,
And ask him what apparel he 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 he 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.++

[part,

1 Hun. My lord, I warrant you, we'll play our 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: [Exit Servant. Belike, some noble gentleman, that means, Travelling some journey, to repose him here.

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1 Play. We thank your honour. Lord. Do you intend to stay with me tonight? [duty.

2 Play. So please your lordship to accept our Lord. With all my heart,-This fellow I remember,

Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son ;-
'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well:
I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd.

means.

1 Play. I think, 'twas Soto that your honour [lent. Lord. 'Tis very true;-thou didst it excelWell, 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 contain ourselves,

Were he the veriest antic in the world.

Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, 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 chamber,

And call him madam, do him obeisance.
Tell him from me, (as he will win my love,)
He bear himself with honourable action,
Such as he hath observ'd in noble ladies
Unto their lords, by them accomplished:
Such duty to the drunkard let them do,
With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy;
And say,-What is 't your honour will command,
Wherein your lady, and your humble wife,
May show her duty, and make known her love?
And then, with kind embracements, tempting
And with declining head into his bosom, [kisses,
Bid him shed tears, as being overjoyed
To see her noble lord restor❜d to health,
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,
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.

See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst;
Anon I'll give thee more instructions.

[Exit Servant. 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.
SCENE II.-A Bed-chamber 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 Heaven's sake, a pot of small ale.

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

2 Serv. Will 't please your honour taste of these 3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-day?

Sly. I am Christopher Sly. Call not me 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 than feet; nay, sometime, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather. [honour! Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your O that a mighty man of such descent, Of such possessions, and so high esteem, Should be infused with so foul a spirit!

Am

Sly. What! would you make me mad? 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? 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 lying'st knave in Christendom. What! I am

not bestraught: Here's

1 Serv. O, this it is that makes your lady mourn, 2 Serv. O, this it is that makes your servants droop. [your house, Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred shun 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? hark! Apollo plays. [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:
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, And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. 1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift

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 hid,

Which seem to move and wanton with her breath
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.

3 Serv. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny wood;

Scratching her feet 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.

[thee,

1 Serv. And, till the tears that she hath shed for Like envious floods o'er-ran her lovely face, She was the fairest creature in the world; And yet she is inferior to none.

*Distracted.

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;

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.

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

[Servants present a ewer, bason, and napkin. O, how we joy to see your wit restor❜d! O, 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 But did I never speak of all that time? [nap. 1 Serv. 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 seal'd 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 house, nor no such maid;

Nor no such men as you have reckon❜d up,-
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps' o' the Green,
And Peter Turph, and Henry Pimpernell;
And twenty more such names and men as these,
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? Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough. Where is my wife? [her? Page. Here, noble lord. What is thy will with Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me husband? [man. My men should call me lord; I am your goodPage. 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. Alice Madam, or Joan Madam? [ladies. Lord. Madam, and nothing else; so lords call 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; Enter a Servant.

Serv. Your honour's players, hearing your amendment,

Are come to play a pleasant comedy,
For so your doctors hold it very meet: [blood,
Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your
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: Is it not a
commonty,+ a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling-
trick?
[stuff.
Page. No, my good lord; it is more pleasing
Sly. What, household stuff?

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Page. 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. [They sit down.

Act First.

SCENE I.-Padua. A public Place.
Enter LUCENTIO and TRANIO.

Luc. TRANIO, since, for the great desire I had
To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,
I am arriv'd for fruitful Lombardy,
The pleasant garden of great Italy;
And, by my father's love and leave, am armı'd
With his good will, and thy good company,
My trusty servant, well approv'd 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 conceiv'd,
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 achiev'd.
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.

Tra. 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, T As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd: Talk 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, [you: Fall to them, as you find your stomach serves No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en;In brief, sir, study what you most affect.

Luc. Gramercies, Tranío, 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? [town. Tra. Master, some show, to welcome us to Enter BAPTISTA, KATHARINA, BIANCA, GREMIO, and HORTENSIO. LUCENTIO and TRANIO stand aside.

Bap. Gentlemen, impórtune me no farther, For how I firmly am resolv'd you know: That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter, Before I have a husband for the elder: If either of you both love Katharina, 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
To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool,
And paint your face, and use you like a fool.
Hor. From all such devils, good heaven deliver
us!

Gre. And me too!
[toward;
Tra. Hush, master! here's some good pastime
That wench is stark mad, or wonderful froward.
Luc. But in the other's silence I do see
Maids' mild behaviour and sobriety.
Peace, Tranio.

[fill. Tra. Well said, master; mum and gaze your 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;+ it is best Put finger in the eye-an 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.

Why, will you mew‡ her up, Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell, And make her bear the penance of her tongue? Bap. Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolv'd: Go in, Bianca. [Exit BIANCA. And, for I know she taketh most delight In music, instruments, and poetry, Schoolmasters will I keep within my house, Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio, Or, Signior Gremio, you know any such, Prefer them hither; for to cunning men I will be very kind, and liberal To mine own children in good bringing-up; And so farewell. Katharina, you may stay; For I have more to commune with Bianca. [Exit. Kath. Why, and I trust I may go too. May I not? [belike, What, shall I be appointed hours; as though, I knew not what to take, and what to leave? [Exit. Gre. You may go to the devil; your gifts? are so good, here's none will hold you. Our love is not so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together, and fast it fairly out; our cake's dough on both sides. Farewell:-Yet, for the love I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit man to teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father.

Hor. So will I, Signior Gremio: But a word, I pray. Though the nature of our quarrel yet never brook'd parle, know now, upon advice, it toucheth us both,-that we may yet again have access to our fair mistress, and be happy rivals in Bianca's love,-to labour and effect one thing specially.

Gre. What's that, I pray?

Hor. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister. Gre. A husband! a devil.

Hor. I say, a husband.

Gre. I say, a devil: Think'st thou, Hortensio, though her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to her?

Hor. Tush, Gremio, though it pass your patience and mine to endure her loud alarums, why,

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man, there be good fellows in the world, an a man could light on them, would take her with all faults, and money enough.

Gre. I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry with this condition,-to be whipped at the high-cross every morning.

Hor. 'Faith, as you say, there's small choice in rotten apples. But, come; since this bar in law makes us friends, it shall be so far forth friendly maintain'd, till, by helping Baptista's eldest daughter to a husband, we set his youngest free for a husband, and then have to 't afresh.-Sweet Bianca!-Happy man be his dole! How say you, Signior Gremio?

Gre. I am agreed and would I had given him the best horse in Padua to begin his wooing, that would thoroughly woo her, wed her, and rid the house of her. Come on.

[Exeunt GRE. and HOR. Tra. [Advancing.] I pray, sir, tell me,-Is it possible

That love should of a sudden take such hold?
Luc. O Tranio, till I found it to be true,
I never thought it possible, or likely;
But see! while idly I stood looking on,
I found the effect of love in idleness:
And now in plainness do confess to thee,-
That art to me as secret, and as dear,
As Anna to the queen of Carthage was,-
Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio,
If I achieve not this fair modest girl:
Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst;
Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt.

Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you now; Affection is not rated** from the heart: [so,If love have touched you, nought remains but Redime te captum, quam queas minimo.

Luc. Gramercies, lad; go forward, this con

tents;

The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound.
Tra. Master, you look'd so longly++ on the maid,
Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all.
Luc. O yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face,
Such as the daughter ‡‡ of Agenor had
That made great Jove to humble him to her hand,
When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand.
Tra. Saw you no more? mark'd you not, how
her sister

Began to scold; and raise up such a storm,
That mortal ears might hardly endure the din?

Luc. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move, And with her breath she did perfume the air; Sacred, and sweet, was all I saw in her.

trance.

Tra. Nay, then, 'tis time to stir him from his
I pray, awake, sir: If you love the maid,
Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it
stands:

Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd,
That, till the father rid his hands of her,
Master, your love must live a maid at home;
And therefore has he closely mew'd her up,
Because she shall not be annoy'd with suitors.

Luc. Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father's he!
But art thou not advis'd, he took some care
To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her?
Tra. Ay, marry, am I, sir; and now 'tis plotted.
Luc. I have it, Tranio.

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