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    The Taming of The Shrew
    The Taming of The Shrew
    The Taming of The Shrew
    Ebook144 pages1 hour

    The Taming of The Shrew

    By Wiliam Shakespeare

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    William Shakespeare was born in Stratford-upon-Avon in late April 1565 and baptised there on 26th April. He was one of eight children. Little is known about his life but what is evident is the enormous contribution he has made to world literature. His writing was progressive, magnificent in scope and breathtaking in execution. His plays and sonnets helped enable the English language to speak with a voice unmatched by any other. William Shakespeare died on April 23rd 1616, survived by his wife and two daughters. He was buried two days after his death in the chancel of the Holy Trinity Church. The epitaph on the slab which covers his grave includes the following passage, Good friend, for Jesus’s sake forbear, To dig the dust enclosed here. Blessed me the man that spares these stones, And cursed be he that moves my bones. Here we publish his comedy from 1593 'The Taming of the Shrew'.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCopyright Group
    Release dateMar 13, 2014
    ISBN9781783943357
    The Taming of The Shrew

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      Book preview

      The Taming of The Shrew - Wiliam Shakespeare

      The Taming Of The Shrew by William Shakespeare

      William was born in Stratford-upon-Avon in late April 1565 and baptised there on 26th April. He was one of eight children.  Little is known about his life but what is evident is the enormous contribution he has made to world literature.  His writing was progressive, magnificent in scope and breathtaking in execution.  His plays and sonnets helped enable the English language to speak with a voice unmatched by any other. 

      William Shakespeare died on April 23rd 1616, survived by his wife and two daughters. He was buried two days after his death in the chancel of the Holy Trinity Church. The epitaph on the slab which covers his grave includes the following passage,

      Good friend, for Jesus’s sake forbear,

      To dig the dust enclosed here.

      Blessed me the man that spares these stones,

      And cursed be he that moves my bones.

      Index Of Contents

      Induction, Scene 1

      Induction, Scene 2

      Act I, Scene 1

      Act I, Scene II

      Act II, Scene I

      Act III, Scene II

      Act III, Scene III

      Act IV, Scene I

      Act IV, Scene II

      Act IV, Scene III

      Act IV, Scene IV

      Act IV, Scene V

      Act V, Scene I

      Act V, Scene II

      William Shakespeare – A Short Biography

      William Shakespeare – A Concise Bibliography

      ACT I

      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

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