"Enter two with a table and a banquet on it, and two other with Slie asleepe in a chaire, richlie apparelled, and the musicke plaieng. One. So: sirha now go call my Lord, And tel him that all things is ready as he wild it. And then Ile go fetch my Lord presentlie. Enter the Lord and his men. Lord. How now, what is all thinges readie? One. I my Lord. Lord. Then sound the musick, and Ile wake him straight, And see you doo as earst I gaue in charge. My lord, My lord, he sleepes soundlie: My Lord. Slie. Tapster, gis a little small ale. Heigh ho. Lord. Heers wine my lord, the purest of the grape. Slie. For which Lord? Lord. For your honour my Lord. Exit. Slie. Who I, am I a Lord? Jesus what fine apparell haue I got. Lord. More richer farre your honour hath to weare, And if it please you I will fetch them straight. Wil. And if your honour please to ride abroad, Ile fetch you lustie steedes more swift of pace Tom. And if your honour please to hunt the deere, And make the long breathde Tygre broken winded. Lord. Simon and it please your honour. Slie. Simon, thats as much as to say Simion or Simon Put foorth thy hand and fill the pot. Give me thy hand, Sim am I a lord indeed?" &c. &c. (3) SCENE II.-Enter the Page, &c.] In the old play the scene proceeds as follows: "Enter the boy in Womans attire. Slie. Sim, Is this she? Lord. I my Lord. Slie. Masse tis a prettie wench, what's her name? Boy. Oh that my louelie Lord would once vouchsafe To looke on me and leaue these frantike fits, Or were I now but halfe so eloquent, To paint in words what ile performe in deedes, I know your honour then would pittie me. Slie. Harke you mistrese, will you cat a peece of bread, Come sit downe on my knee, Sim drinke to hir Sim, For she and I will go to bed anon. Lord. May it please you, your honors plaiers be come; To offer your honour a plaie. Slie. A plaie Sim, O braue, be they my plaiers? ACT I. (1) SCENE I.-Gremio.] In the first folio, Gremio is called "a Pantelowne." "Il Pantalone was the old baffled amoroso of the early Italian Comedy, and, like the Pedant and the Braggart, formed a never-failing source of ridicule upon the Italian stage. (2) SCENE I.-I wis, it is not half way to her heart.] The word I wis, in its origin, is the Anglo-Saxon adjective gewis, certain, sure, which is still preserved in the modern German gewiss, and Dutch gewis. It is always used adverbially in the English writers of the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries, and it invariably means certainly, truly. The change of the Anglo-Saxon ge to y or i, appears to have been made in the thirteenth century, and the letters y or i are used indifferently, one being as right as the other. But although the word is really an adverb, Sir Frederic Madden thinks it questionable whether, in the latter part of the fifteenth century, it was not regarded as a prenoun and a verb, equivalent to the German ich weiss. That it was so considered in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries seems pretty generally admitted. In Shakespeare it is always printed with a capital letter, I wis; and we have no doubt he used it as a pronoun and a verb, not knowing its original scnse as an adverb. See the Glossary to Sir Frederic Madden's "Syr Gawayne. Printed for the Bannatyne Club, 1839." ACT II. (1) SCENE I.-Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA severally.] Compare the interview of the hero and heroine in the old comedy: "Enter Kate. Alfon. Ha Kate, Come hither wench & list to me, Vse this gentleman friendlie as thou canst. Feran. Twentie good morrowes to my louely Kate Kate. You iest I am sure, is she yours alreadie? Feran. I tell thee Kate I know thou lou'st me well Kate. The deuill you doo, who told you so? Feran. My mind sweet Kate doth say I am the man, Must wed, and bed, and marrie bonnie Kate. Kate. Was euer seene so grose an asse as this? Feran. I, to stand so long and neuer get a kisse. Kate. Hands off I say, and get you from this place; Or I wil set my ten commandments in your face. Feran. I prethe doo Kate; they say thou art a shrew, And I like thee the better for I would haue thee so. Kate. Let go my hand for feare it reech your care. Feran. No Kate, this hand is mine and I thy loue. Kate. In faith sir no, the woodcock wants his taile. Kate. Why father what do you meane to doo with me, She turnes aside and speakes. But yet I will consent and marrie him, And Sunday next shall be your wedding day. Feran. Why so, did I not tell thee I should be the man Father, I leaue my loulie Kate with you, Prouide your selues against our mariage daie; For I must hie me to my countrie house In hast to see prouision may be made, To entertaine my Kate when she dooth come. Exit Alfonso and Kate." (2) SCENE I.-Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten.] "A common phrase," says Nares, "which we may suppose to have been derived from some game (possibly primero), wherein the standing boldly upon a ten was often successful. A card of ten meant a tenth card, a ten, &c. I conceive the force of the phrase to have expressed, originally, the confidence or impudence of one who, with a ten, as at brag, faced, or out-faced one who had really a faced card against him. To face, meant, as it still does, to bully, to attack by impudence of face." (3) SCENE I. —If I fail not of my cunning.] At the termination of this scene in the original, the following bit of by-play is introduced: "Slie. Sim, when will the foole come againe? Slie. Here Sim, I drinke to thee. Lord. My Lord heere comes the plaiers againe, Slie. O braue, heers two fine gentlewomen." ACT III. (1) SCENE II.-Enter PETRUCHIO and GRUMIO.] The answerable scene to this in the old piece, though not without humour, is much inferior : "Enter Ferando baselie attired, and a red cap on his head. Feran. Godmorow father, Polidor well met, You wonder I know that I haue staid so long. Alfon. I marrie son, we were almost perswaded, That we should scarse haue had our bridegroome heere, But say, why art thou thus basely attired? Feran. Thus richlie father you should haue said, For when my wife and I am married once, Feran. Tush Polidor I haue as many sutes The stately legate of the Persian King, And this from them haue I made choise to weare. in Robert Armin's Comedy of "The History of the Two Maids of Moreclacke," 1609, the play begins with : "Enter a Maid strewing flowers, and a serving-man perfuming the door. Maid. Strew, strew. Man. The muscadine stays for the bride at church: So at the marriage of Mary and Philip in Winchester Cathedral, 1554, we read :-"The trumpets sounded, and they returned to their traverses in the quire, and there remayned untill masse was done; at which tyme, wyne and sopes were hallowed and delyvered to them both.”Appendix to LELAND'S Collectanea. (3) SCENE II.-Exeunt PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, and GRUMIO.] Perhaps in no part of the play is the immeasurable superiority of Shakespeare to his predecessor more evident than in the boisterous vigour and excitation of this scene. Compared with it, the corresponding situation in the original is torpidity itself: "Enter Ferando and Kate and Alfonso and Polidor and Amelia and Aurelius and Philema. Feran. Father farwell, my Kate and I must home, Sirra go make ready my horse presentlie. Alfon. Your horse? What son I hope you doo but iest I am sure you will not go so suddainly. Kate. Let him go or tarry I am resolu'de to stay, And not to trauell on my wedding day. Feran. Tut Kate I tell thee we must needes go home, Villaine hast thou saddled my horse? San. Which horse, your curtall? Feran. Sounes you slaue stand you prating here? Saddell the bay gelding for your Mistris. Kate. Not for me: for Ile not go. San. The ostler will not let me haue him you owe tenpence San. Shall I giue them another pecke of lauender. Ex. Sander. Kate. But not for me, for here I meane to dine Ile haue my will in this as well as you, Though you in madding mood would leaue your frends Despite of you Ile tarry with them still. Feran. I Kate so thou shalt but at some other time, When as thy sisters here shall be espousd, Then thou and I will keepe our wedding day In better sort then now we can prouide, For here I promise thee before them all, Exit Ferando and Kale." ACT IV. [Exit.] Enter Ferando againe. San. I hurt his foote for the nonce man. He beates them all out againe. (2) SCENE II.— 66 but at last I spied Exit.' An ancient angel coming down the hill."] For upwards of a century, the expression, "An ancient angel," has been a puzzle to commentators. Theobald, Hanmer, and Warburton concurred in substituting engle, or enghle (the most innocent meaning of which is gull, or dupe) for "angel" and this word has been supported strenuously by Gifford. In a note to Jonson's Poetaster, Act II. Sc. 1, he quotes a passage from Gascoigne's Supposes, the play Shakespeare is thought to have been under obligations to for this part of the plot, which he considers decisive" There Erostrato, the Biondello of Shakespeare, looks out for a person to gull by an idle story, judges from appearances that he has found him, and is not deceived:At the foot of the hill I met a gentleman, and as methought by his habits and his looks he should be none of the wisest." Again, this gentleman being, as I guessed at the first, a man of small sapientia.' And Dulippo (the Lucentio of Shakespeare) as soon as he spies him coming, exclaims, 'Is this he? go meet him by my truth, HE LOOKS LIKE A GOOD SOUL, he that fisheth for him might be sure to catch a codshead.'” But, after all, as Mr. Singer observes, it is not necessary to depart from the reading of the old copy. Cotgrave explains Angelot à la grosse escaille, "An old angell; and by metaphor a fellow of th' old, sound, honest, and worthie stamp.' So an ancient angel may here have meant only a good old simple soul. It is singular that, while so much consideration has been bestowed on this expression, one very similar in "The Tempest," Act II. Sc. 1, "This ancient morsel," should scarcely have been noticed. (3) SCENE III.-Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave.] We subjoin the analogous scene from the original play: "Enter Sander and his Mistres. San. Come Mistris. Kate. Sunder I prethe helpe me to some meate, Kate. Why man thy Maister needs never know it. San. I, I could helpe you to some but that I doubt the mustard is too colerick for you, But what say you to a sheepes head and garlick? San. I but the garlike I doubt will make your breath stincke, and then my maister will course me for letting You eate it: But what say you to a fat Capon? Kate. Thats meate for a King sweet Sander helpe "Enter Ferando and Kate and Sander. San. Master the haberdasher has brought my Mistresse home hir cappe here. Feran. Come hither sirra: what haue you there? Habar. A veluet cappe sir and it please you. Feran. Who spoake for it? didst thou Kate? Kate. What if I did, come hither sirra, giue me The cap, Ile see if it will fit me. She sets it one hir head. Feran. O monstrous, why it becomes thee not, Let me see it Kate: here sirra take it hence, This cappe is out of fashion quite. Kate. The fashion is good inough: belike you meane to make a foole of me. Feran. Why true he meanes to make a foole of thee Hence againe, and Ile content thee for thy paines. Taylor. I thanke you sir. Exit Taylor. Feran. Come Kate we now will go see thy fathers house Euen in these honest meane abilliments, Our purses shall be rich our garments plaine, To shrowd our bodies from the winter rage, And that's inough, what should we care for more Thy sisters Kate to morrow must be wed, It will be nine a clocke ere we come there. Kate. Nine a clock, why tis allreadie past two In the after noone by all the clocks in the towne. Feran. I say tis but nine a clock in the morning. Kate. I say tis two a clock in the after noone. Feran. It shall be nine then ere we go to your fathers, Come backe againe we will not go to day. Nothing but crossing of me still, Ile haue you say as I doo ere you go. Exeunt Omnes." (5) SCENE V.-Allots thee for his lovely bed-fellow !] Compare the opening of the original scene: "Feran. Come Kate the Moone shines cleare to night Methinkes. Kate. The moone? why husband you are deceiued It is the sun. Feran. Yet againe come backe againe it shall be Kate. Why Ile say as you say it is the moone. Kate. Iesus saue the glorious moone. Feran. I am glad Kate your stomack is come downe, I know it well thou knowest it is the sun, But I did trie to see if thou wouldst speake, And crosse me now as thou hast donne before, And trust me Kate hadst thou not named the moone, But soft whose this thats comming here." ACT V. (1) SCENE I.-Call forth an officer.] In the original the performance is interrupted at this point by the Tinker : "Slie. I say wele haue no sending to prison. Lord. My Lord this is but the play, theyre but in iest. To prison thats flat: why Sim am not I Don Christo Vary ? * Lord. No more they shall not my Lord, (2) SCENE II.-Exeunt.] Shakespeare's piece terminates here, and no more is heard of the inimitable Christopher. Whether this is owing to the latter portion of the Induction having been lost, or whether the poet purposely dismissed the Tinker and the characters of the apologue, before whom we were to suppose the comedy was played, in the first act, we shall probably never know. In the old drama, at the end, the scene is supposed to change from the nobleman's palace to the outside of the alehouse-door, * Christo Vary ?] A humorous variation of Christopher; whence, probably, Shakespeare's Christophero Sly. and Sly is properly re-introduced in the same state in which he first appeared: "Then enter two bearing of Slie in his Tapster. Now that the darkesome night is ouerpast, Now must I hast abroad: but soft whose this? Slie. Sim gis some more wine, whats all the Tapster. A lord with a murrin: come art thou dronken still? Slie. Whose this? Tapster, oh Lord sirra, I haue had The brauest dreame to night, that euer thou Hardest in all thy life. Tapster. I marry but you had best get you home, For your wife will course you for dreaming here tonight. Slie. Will she? I know now how to tame a shrew, I dreamt vpon it all this night till now, And thou hast wakt me out of the best dreame Tapster. Nay tarry Slie for Ile go home with thee, Exeunt Omnes." CRITICAL OPINIONS ON THE TAMING OF THE SHREW. "FROM whatever source the Apologue to this drama may have been directly taken, we cannot but feel highly indebted to Shakspeare for its conversion into a lesson of exquisite moral irony, while, at the same time, it unfolds his wonted richness of humour, and minute delineation of character. The whole, indeed, is conducted with such lightness and frolic spirit, with so many happy touches of risible simplicity, yet chastised by so constant an adherence to nature and verisimilitude, as to form one of the most delightful and instructive sketches. "So admirably drawn is the character of Sly, that we regret to find the interlocution of the group before whom the piece is supposed to be performed, has been dropped by our author after the close of the first scene of the play. Here we behold the jolly tinker nodding, and, at length, honestly exclaiming, 'Would 't were done!' and though the integrity of the representation requires that he should finally return to his former state, the transformation, as before, being effected during his sleep, yet we hear no more of this truly comic personage; whereas in the spurious play, he is frequently introduced commenting on the scene, is carried off the stage fast asleep, and on the termination of the drama, undergoes the necessary metamorphosis. It would appear, therefore, either that our bard's continuation of the Induction has been unaccountably lost, or that he trusted the remainder of Sly's part to the improvisatory ingenuity of the performers; or, what is more likely, that they were instructed to copy a certain portion of what had been written, for this subordinate division of the tinker's character, by the author of the elder play. Some of the observations, indeed, of Sly, as given by the writer of this previous comedy, are incompatible with the fable and Dramatis Persona of Shakspeare's production; and have, consequently, been very injudiciously introduced by Mr. Pope; but there are two passages which, with the exception of but two names, are not only accordant with our poet's prelude, but absolutely necessary to its completion. Shakspeare, as we have seen, represents Sly as nodding at the end of the first scene, and the parts of the anonymous play to which we allude are those where the nobleman orders the sleeping tinker to be put into his own apparel again, and where he awakens in this garb, and believes the whole to have been a dream; the only alterations required in this finale being the omission of the Christian appellative Sim, and the conversion of Tapster into Hostess. These few lines were, most probably, those which Shakspeare selected as a necessary accompaniment to his piece, from the old drama supposed to have been written in 1590 ;* and these lines should be withdrawn from the notes in all the modern editions, and though distinguished as borrowed property, should be immediately connected with the text. "As to the play itself, the rapidity and variety of its action, the skilful connexion of its double plot, and the strength and vivacity of its principal characters, must for ever ensure its popularity. There is, indeed, a depth and breadth of colouring in its execution, a boldness and prominency of relief, which may be thought to border upon coarseness; but the result has been an effect equally powerful and interesting, though occasionally, as the subject demanded, somewhat glaring and grotesque. Petruchio, Katharina, and Grumio, the most important personages of the play, are consistently supported throughout, and their peculiar features touched, and brought forward with singular sharpness and "I suspect," says Mr. Malone, "that the anonymous Taming of a Shrew' was written about the year 1590, either by George Peele or Robert Greene." |