Array The griffin classics - William Shakespeare - Complete Collection

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’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 dream’d till now?

I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak;

I smell sweet savors, 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.

2. Serv.

Will’t please your mightiness to wash your hands?

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 nap,

But did I never speak of all that time?

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 of Greece,

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.

Enter [the Page as a] lady, with Attendants.

Sly.

I thank thee, thou shalt not lose by it.

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 husband?

My men should call me ‘lord’; I am your goodman.

Page.

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.

Al’ce 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 or more.

Page.

Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,

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 expressly charg’d,

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.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess.

Your honor’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 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 comonty a Christmas gambold, or a tumbling-trick?

Page. No, my good lord, it is more pleasing stuff.

Sly. What, household stuff?

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 all sit.] Flourish.

¶

Robert Smirke , p. — Robert Thew , e.

Enter Lucentio and his man 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 arm’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 saciety seeks to quench his thirst.

Tra.

Mi perdonato, 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 abjur’d.

Balk logic with acquaintance that you have,

And practice 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.

Luc.

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?

Tra.

Master, some show to welcome us to town.

Enter Baptista with his two daughters, Katherina and Bianca, Gremio, a pantaloon, Hortensio, [suitor] to Bianca. Lucentio, Tranio stand by.

Bap.

Gentlemen, importune 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 Katherina,

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.