The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare [book recommendations based on other books txt] 📗

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 shall echoes from the hollow earth.

FIRST SERVANT. Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift As breathed stags; ay, fleeter than the roe.

SECOND SERVANT. 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 lo as she was a maid And how she was beguiled and surpris’d, As lively painted as the deed was done.

THIRD SERVANT. 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 SERVANT. And, till the tears that she hath shed for thee Like envious floods o’er-run 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 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 SERVANT. 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?

FIRST SERVANT. 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.

THIRD SERVANT. 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.

Exeunt SERVANTS

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

 

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 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 sit down]

 

A flourish of trumpets announces the play

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ACT I. SCENE I.

Padua. A public place

 

Enter LUCENTIO and his man TRANIO

 

LUCENTIO. 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 satiety seeks to quench his thirst.

TRANIO. 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 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.

 

Enter BAPTISTA with his two daughters, KATHERINA and BIANCA; GREMIO, a pantaloon; HORTENSIO, suitor to BIANCA. LUCENTIO and TRANIO stand by But stay awhile; what company is this?

TRANIO. Master, some show to welcome us to town.

BAPTISTA. 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.

GREMIO. To cart her rather. She’s too rough for me.

There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife?

KATHERINA. [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.

KATHERINA. I’ faith, sir, you shall never need to fear; Iwis it is not halfway 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.

HORTENSIO. From all such devils, good Lord deliver us!

GREMIO. And me, too, good Lord!

TRANIO. Husht, master! Here’s some good pastime toward; That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward.

LUCENTIO. But in the other’s silence do I see Maid’s mild behaviour and sobriety.

Peace, Tranio!

TRANIO. Well said, master; mum! and gaze your fill.

BAPTISTA. 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.

KATHERINA. A pretty peat! it is best

Put finger in the eye, an she knew why.

BIANCA. 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.

LUCENTIO. Hark, Tranio, thou mayst hear Minerva speak!

HORTENSIO. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange?

Sorry am I that our good will effects Bianca’s grief.

GREMIO. Why will you mew her up,

Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell, And make her bear the penance of her tongue?

BAPTISTA. 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. Katherina, you may stay; For I have more to commune with Bianca. Exit KATHERINA. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not?

What! shall I be appointed hours, as though, belike, I knew not what to take and what to leave? Ha! Exit GREMIO. You may go to the devil’s dam; your gifts are so good here’s none will hold you. There! 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.

HORTENSIO. 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.

GREMIO. What’s that, I