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Lord. We'll fhew thee Io, as fhe was a maid; And how fhe was beguiled and furpris'd,

As lively painted as the deed was done.

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

Scratching her legs, that one fhall fwear the bleeds:
And at that fight fhall fad Apollo weep,

So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.
Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:
Thou haft a lady far more beautiful,

Than any woman in this waining age.

1 Man. And 'till the tears that the hath fhed for
thee,

Like envious floods o'er-ran her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world;
And yet fhe is inferior to none.

Shy. Am I a lord? and have I such a lady?
Or do I dream? or have I dream'd 'till now?
I do not fleep: I fee, I hear, I speak;
I fmell fweet favours, and I feel foft things:
Upon my life, I am a lord, indeed;

And not a Tinker, not Chriftophero Sly.-
Well, bring our lady hither to our fight;
And once again, a pot o' the fmalleft ale.

2 Man. Will't pleafe your mightiness to wash your

hands?

Oh, how we joy to fee your wits reftor'd!
Oh, that once more you knew but what you are!
Thefe fifteen years you have been in a dream,
Or, when you wak'd, fo wak'd as if you flept.
Sly. Thefe fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap.
But did I never speak of all that time?

1 Man. Oh, yes, my lord; but very idle words:-
For tho' you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you fay, ye were beaten out of door;
And rail'd upon the hoftefs of the house;

And

8

And fay, you would prefent her at the Leet,
Because the bought ftone-jugs, and no feal'd quarts
Sometimes, you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the houfe.

3 Man. Why, fir, you know no houfe, nor no fuch
maid;

Nor no fuch men, as you have reckon'd up;
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell;
And twenty more fuch names and men as thefe,
Which never were, nor no man ever faw.

Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends!
All. Amen.-9

Enter lady, with attendants.

Sly. I thank thee;-thou shalt not lose by it.
Lady. How fares my noble lord?

Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough.
Where is my wife?

Lady. Here, noble lord: What is thy will with her?
Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me-huf-
band?

My men fhould call me-lord, I am your good-man.
Lady. My husband and my lord, my lord and hufband,
I am your wife in all obedience.

8

Sly. I know it well: What must I call her?
Lord. Madam.

Leet,] As the Court leet, or courts of the manor.

JOHNSON.

In this place, Mr. Pope, and after him other editors, had introduced the three following speeches, from the old edition 1607, I have already obferved that it is by no means certain, that the former comedy of the Taming the Shrew was written by Shakefpeare, and have therefore removed them from the text.

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Sly. By the mafs, I think I am a lord indeed, "What is thy name?

"Man. Sim, an it please your honour.

Sly. Sim? that's as much as to fay, Simeon,
or Simon. Put forth thy hand, and fill the pot."

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Sly. Alce madam, or Joan madam?

Lord. Madam, and nothing elfe, fo lords call ladies.

I

Sly. Madam wife, they fay that I have dream'd, and slept

Above fome fifteen years and more.

Lady. 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.
Lady. Thrice noble lord, let me intreat of you,
To pardon me yet for a night or two;
Or, if not fo, until the fun be fet:
For your phyficians have exprefly charg'd,
In peril to incur your former malady,
That I fhould yet abfent me from your bed.
I hope, this reason ftands for my excuse.

Sly. Ay, it ftands fo, that I may hardly tarry fo long. But I would be loth to fall into my dreams again: I will therefore tarry in defpight of the flesh and the blood.

Enter a Meffenger.

Meff. Your honour's players, hearing your amend

ment,

Are come to play a pleasant comedy,
For fo your doctors hold it very meet;

Seeing too much fadnefs hath congeal'd your blood,
And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy,

Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play,

* Mr. Pope, as I fuppofe, made likewife the following addition to this fpeech, for I cannot find the paffage in either of the old copies, though it has been inferted in all the modern editions of Shakespeare.

"Sly. Come, fit down on my knee. Sim, drink to her." Madam, &c. STEEVENS.

2

―come now to-bed.] Here Mr. Pope adds again—Sim, drink saber. STEEVENS.

And

And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life. Sly. Marry, I will; let them play: Is not a Commonty, a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick? Lady. No, my good lord; it is more pleafing stuff. Sly. What, houshold stuff?

Lady. It is a kind of history.

Sly. Well, we'll fee't: come, madam wife, fit by my fide, and let the world flip, we fhall ne'er be younger.

3 Is not a commonty, a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick?] Thus the old copies; the modern ones read, It is not a commodity, &c. Commonty for comedy, &c. STEEVENS.

ACT

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Street in Padua.

Flourish. Enter Lucentio and his man Tranio.

T

LUCENTIO.

RANIO, fince-for the great defire I had
To fee 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 :
Most trusty fervant, well approv'd in all,
Here let us breathe, and happily institute
A course of learning, and ingenious ftudies.
Pifa, renowned for grave citizens, 3

Gave me my being; and my father firft,

A merchant of great traffick through the world:

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from fruitful Lombardy.] So Mr. Theobald. The former editions, inftead of from, had for. JOHNSON.

Padua is a city of Lombardy, therefore Mr. Theobald's emendation is unneceflary. STEEVENS.

2

-ingenious] I rather think it was written ingenuous ftudies, but of this and a thousand fuch observations there is little certainty.

JOHNSON.

3 Pifa, renowned for grave citizens.] This paffage, I think, fhould be read and pointed thus:

Fifa, renowned for grave citizens,

Gave me my being, and my father first,

A merchant of great traffick through the world,
Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii.

In the next line, which should begin a new fentence, Vincentio bis fon, is the fame as Vinlentio's fon, which the author of the Revifal not apprehending, has propofed to alter Vincentio into Lu

centio.

Obfervations and Conjectures, &c. printed at Oxford, 1766.

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