PERSONS REPRESENTED.

A Lord.
CHRISTOPHER SLY, a drunken Tinker.
Hostess, Page, Players, Huntsmen, and
other Servants attending on the Lord.

BAPTISTA, a rich Gentleman of Padua.
VINCENTIO, an old Gentleman of Pisa.

Persons in the
Induction.

LUCENTIO, Son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca. PETRUCHIO, a Gentleman of Verona, a Suitor to Katharina.

PEDANT, an old fellow set up to personate Vincentio.

KATHARINA, the Shrew, Daughters to Baptista.
BIANCA, her Sister,

Widow.

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

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

TAMING OF THE SHREW.

INDUCTION.

SCENE I. Before an Alehouse on a Heath.

Enter Hostess and SLY.

Sly.

I'LL pheese1 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: Sessa3!

1 So again in Troilus and Cressida, Ajax says of Achilles :'I'll pheese his pride.' And in Ben Johnson's Alchemist.

'Come, will you quarrel? I'll feize you, sirrah.’ Mr. Gifford says, ' this word does not mean to drive, but to beat, to chastise, to humble, &c. in which sense (in the west of England) it may be heard every day.' This is conformable to Skinner's interpretation of 'Fease or Feag, Virgis cædere, Flagellare.' It appears formerly to have sometimes been used in the sense of to drive away, as in Stanyhurst's Translation of Virgil: ' Feaze away the drone bees.' And again :

'We are toused, and from Italy feazed.'

I find in Baret's Alvearie, 1573: a feese, or race; Procursus.' Johnson has noticed Sir Thomas Smith's explanation of 'to feize, in fila diducere.' Kersey, in his Dictionary, 1708, says, that it is a sea-term, and signifies' to separate a cable by untwisting its ends.' This seems to have some analogy with to teize, or tease, wool: as 'feese, or race,' may with to chase, or drive away. I have since found it in Ray's Proverbs, ed. 1737, p. 269, as communicated to him by a Somersetshire man :-I'll vease thee, that is, hunt, drive thee.

2 Pocas palabras, Span. few words. VOL. III.

3

Cessa, Ital. be quiet.

H H

Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst1?

Sly. No, not a denier: Go by, says Jeronimy ;Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee 5.

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 brach8.

4 Broke.

5 This line and the scrap of Spanish is used in burlesque from an old play called Hieronymo, or the Spanish Tragedy. The old copy reads: S. Jeronimy.' The emendation is Mason's. 6 An officer whose authority equals that of a constable.

6

7 Emboss'd,' says Philips in his World of Words, ' is a term in hunting, when a deer is so hard chased that she foams at the mouth; it comes from the Spanish Desembocar, and is metaphorically used for any kind of weariness.' Malone has more than once given the same etymology of this word without acknowledgment, but it is erroneous. Skinner has pointed out its most probable derivation from the Italian word Ambascia or Ambastia, which signifies difficulty of breathing coming from excessive fatigue;' and which is also used metaphorically, like the English word, for weariness. Emboss'd is used in both these senses by Shakspeare and Spenser, as well as in the more common and still usual one of swelling with protuberances. Thus an emboss'd stag is a distress'd stag foaming and panting for breath, like the brach or hound Merriman in the text.

8 Brach originally signified a particular species of dog used for the chase. It was a long eared dog, hunting by the scent. The etymology of the word has not been clearly pointed out; it is from the Gothic racke, hence the Saxon ræc, and the English rache or ratche. In the Book of St. Albans, among the names

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 Hunt. Why, Belman is as good as he,
upon it at the merest loss,

my

He cried
And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent:
Trust me, I take him for the better dog.

lord;

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 Hunt. I will, my lord.

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

2 Hunt. 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! Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image!

of dyvers manere houndes,' we have 'raches;' and among the companyes of bestys,' &c. 'a kenel of rachys.' And again:

all other bestes that huntyd shall be,

Shall be sought and found with ratches so free.' Skelton also, in his Interlude of Magnificence, printed in the reign of Henry VIII.:

'Here is a leyshe of ratches for to renne a hare.’ Hence brache and brach. A similar name for a hound is found in most European languages. It came at length to be used in England for a bitch, probably from similarity of sound, and this was a very general acceptation of the word in Shakspeare's time, as appears from Baret's Dictionary: a brach or biche, Canicula; Petite Chienne.' The reason assigned in 'The Gentleman's Recreation,' 8vo. p. 27: A brach is a mannerly name for all hound bitches.' It may be remarked that Merriman could hardly be the name of a bitch; yet there seems no reason to suppose the first brach in this passage a corruption of some other word, for connected speech is no more necessary than it is usual in such field directions.

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 Hunt. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. 2 Hunt. It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd.

Lord. Even as a flattering 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 with warm distilled waters,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet:
Procure me musick 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 lunatick.
And, when he says he is, say that he dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty lord.

This do, and do it kindly 9, gentle sirs;

9 Naturally.