The Taming of the Shrew E-Book

William Shakespeare

• Herausgeber: Charles River Editors
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Seitenzahl: 112

Beschreibung

Chios Classics brings literature's greatest works back to life for new generations.  All our books contain a linked table of contents.

The Taming of the Shrew is a comedy written by William Shakespeare. The plot centers around the courtship of Petruchio and Katherina. The latter is headstrong and not easily impressed. The movie 10 Things I Hate About You is loosely based off The Taming of the Shrew.

Leseprobe

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW

………………

William Shakespeare

CHIOS CLASSICS

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Copyright © 2015 by William Shakespeare

TABLE OF CONTENTS

The Taming of the Shrew

Persons in the Induction

Persons of the Play

Scene I. Before an alehouse on a heath.

Scene II. A bedchamber in the Lord’s house.

Act I

Scene I. Padua. A public place.

Scene II. Padua. Before Hortensio’s house.

Scene I. Padua. A room in Baptista’s house.

Scene I. Padua. Baptista’s house.

Scene II. Padua. Before Baptista’s house.

Scene I. Petruchio’s country house.

Scene II. Padua. Before Baptista’s house.

Scene III. A room in Petruchio’s house.

Scene IV. Padua. Before Baptista’s house.

Scene V. A public road.

Scene I. Padua. Before Lucentio’s house.

Scene II. Padua. Lucentio’s house.

The Taming of the Shrew

By

William Shakespeare

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW

………………

PERSONS IN THE INDUCTION

………………

A Lord,

Christopher Sly, a tinker.

Hostess,

Page,

Players, Huntsmen, and Servants.

PERSONS OF THE PLAY

………………

Baptista, a rich gentleman of Padua, father of Bianca and Katherina.

Vincentio, an old gentleman of Pisa.

Lucentio, son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca.

Petruchio, a gentleman of Verona, a suitor to Katharina.

Gremio and Hortensio, suitors to Bianca.

Tranio and Biondello, servants to Lucentio.

Grumio, Curtis, Nathaniel, Nicholas, Joseph, Philip and Peter, servants to Petruchio.

A Pedant,

Katharina the shrew,

Bianca,

A Widow,

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

Scene: Padua, and Petruchio’s country house.

INDUCTION

………………

SCENE I. BEFORE AN ALEHOUSE ON A HEATH.

………………

Enter Hostess and Sly

Sly

I’ll pheeze you, in faith.

Hostess

A pair of stocks, you rogue!

Sly

Ye are a baggage: the Slys are no rogues; look in the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore paucas pallabris; let the world slide: sessa!

Hostess

You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?

Sly

No, not a denier. Go by, Jeronimy: go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.

Hostess

I know my remedy; I must go fetch the third — borough.

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.

Falls asleep

Horns winded. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his train

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.

First Huntsman

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.

First Huntsman

I will, my lord.

Lord

What’s here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?

Second Huntsman

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!

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?

First Huntsman

Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.

Second Huntsman

It would seem strange unto him when he waked.

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 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 basin

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.

First Huntsman

My lord, I warrant you we will 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:

Exit Servingman

Belike, some noble gentleman that means,

Travelling some journey, to repose him here.

Re-enter Servingman

How now! who is it?

Servant

An’t please your honour, players

That offer service to your lordship.

Lord

Bid them come near.

Enter Players

Now, fellows, you are welcome.

Players

We thank your honour.

Lord

Do you intend to stay with me tonight?

A Player

So please your lordship to accept our duty.

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.

A Player

I think ’twas Soto that your honour means.

Lord

’Tis very true: thou didst it excellent.

Well, you are come to me in a 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-eyeing of his odd behavior —

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.

A Player

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.

Exit one with the Players

Sirrah, go you to Barthol’mew my page,

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 observed 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 command,

Wherein your lady and your humble wife

May show her duty and make known her love?’

And then with kind embracements, tempting kisses,

And with declining head into his bosom,

Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy’d

To see her noble lord restored to health,

Who for this seven years hath esteem’d 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 dispatch’d with all the haste thou canst:

Anon I’ll give thee more instructions.

Exit a Servingman

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 BEDCHAMBER IN THE LORD’S HOUSE.

………………

ENTER ALOFT SLY, WITH ATTENDANTS; some with apparel, others with basin and ewer and appurtenances; and Lord

Sly

For God’s sake, a pot of small ale.

First Servant

Will’t please your lordship drink a cup of sack?

Second Servant

Will’t please your honour taste of these conserves?

Third Servant

What raiment will your honour wear to-day?

Sly

I am Christophero Sly; call not me ‘honour’ nor ‘lordship:’ I ne’er 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, 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!

O, that a mighty man of such descent,

Of such possessions and so high esteem,

Should be infused with so foul a spirit!

Sly

What, would you make me mad? Am 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 lyingest knave in Christendom. What! I am not bestraught: here’s —

Third Servant

O, this it is that makes your lady mourn!

Second Servant

O, this is it that makes your servants droop!

Lord

Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,

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.

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 with wind.

Lord

We’ll show thee Io as she was a maid,

And how she was beguiled and surprised,

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 Christophero Sly.

Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;

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

Second Servant

Will’t please your mightiness to wash your hands?

O, how we joy to see your wit restored!

O, that once more you knew but what you are!

These fifteen years you have been in a dream;

Or when you waked, so waked 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;