Imágenes de páginas

ing the fire fhall warm myfelf; for, confidering the weather, a taller man than I will take cold: holla, họa, Curtis!

Enter Curtis.

Curt. Who is it that calls fo coldly?

Gru. A piece of ice. If thou doubt it, thou may'ft flide from my fhoulder to my heel, with no greater a run but my head and my neck. A fire, good Curtis.

Curt. Is my mafter and his wife coming, Grumio? Gru. Oh, ay, Curtis, ay; and therefore fire, fire; caft on no water.

Curt. Is fhe fo hot a Shrew, as fhe's reported?


Gru. She was, good Curtis, before this froft; but thou know'ft, winter tames man, woman, and beaft; for it hath tam'd my old mafter, and my new mistress, and thyself, fellow Curtis.

Curt. 5 Away, you three-inch'd fool; I am no



Gru. Am I but three inches? why, my horn is a foot, and fo long am I at the leaft. But wilt thou make a fire, or fhall I complain on thee to our mif

[merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]
[ocr errors][merged small]

trefs, whose hand, fhe being now at hand, thou fhalt foon feel to thy cold comfort, for being flow in thy hot office.

Curt. I pr'ythee, good Gremio, tell me, how goes the world?


Gru. A cold world, Curtis, in every office but and therefore, fire: do thy duty, and have thy duty; for my mafter and miftrefs are almost frozen

to death.

Curt. There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news.

Gru. Why, Jack boy, ho boy, and as much news as thou wilt.

Curt. Come, you are fo full of conycatching.

Gru. Why therefore, fire: for I have caught extream cold. Where's the cook? is fupper ready, the houfe trimm'd, rushes ftrew'd, cobwebs fwept, the fervingmen in their new fuftian, their white ftockings, and every officer his wedding garment on ? be the Jacks fair within, the fills fair without, carpets laid, and every thing in order?


Curt. All ready and therefore, I pray thee, what • news?

Gru. First, know my horse is tired, my mafter and miftrefs fall'n out.

Curt. How?

Gru. Out of their faddles into the dirt; and thereby hangs a tale.

Curt. Let's ha't, good Grumio.

Gru. Lend thine ear.

Curt. Here.

Gru. There.

[blocks in formation]

[Strikes bim.

[blocks in formation]

Curt. This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.

Gru. And therefore 'tis call'd a fenfible tale: and this cuff was but to knock at your ear, and beseech liftning. Now I begin imprimis, we came down a foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress.

Curt. Both on one horse?

Gru. What's that to thee?
Curt. Why, a horse.

But hadft thou not

Gru. Tell thou the tale. croft me, thou should'st have heard how her horse fell, and the under her horfe: thou should'st have heard in how miry a place, how fhe was bemoil'd, how he left her with the horse upon her, how he beat me because her horfe ftumbled, how the waded through the dirt to pluck him off me; how he swore, how the pray'd that never pray'd before; how I cry'd; how the horses ran away; how her bridle was burft: how I loft my crupper; with many things of worthy memory, which now fhall die in oblivion, and thou return unexpérienc'd to thy grave.

Curt. By this reckoning he is more fhrew than fhe. Gra. Ay, and that you and the proudeft of you all fhall find when he comes home. But what talk I of this? call forth Nathanael, Jofeph, Nicholas, Philip, Walter, Sugarfop, and the reft: let their heads be fleekly comb'd, their blue coats brufh'd, and their garters of an indifferent knit; let them curt'fy with their left legs, and not prefume to touch a hair of my mafter's horfe tail, 'till they kifs their hands. Are they all ready?

Curt They are.

Gru. Call them forth.

Curt. Do you hear, ho? you must meet my master to countenance my mistress.

9 Garters of an indifferent knit.] What is the fenfe of this I know not, unless it means,

that their Garters fhould be fellows; indifferent, or not different, one from the other.


Gru. Why, fhe hath a face of her own.

Curt. Who knows not that?

Gru. Thou, it feems, that call'd for company to countenance her.

Curt. I call them forth to credit her.

Enter four or five Serving-men.

Gru. Why, fhe comes to borrow nothing of them.
Nath. Welcome home, Grumio.
Phil. How now, Grumio?

Jof. What, Grumio!

Nich. Fellow Grumio!

Nath. How now, old lad?

Gru. Welcome, you; how now, you; what, you; fellow, you; and thus much for greeting. Now, my fpruce companions, is all ready, and all things neat? Nath. All things are ready; how near is our mafter? Gru. E'en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore -cock's paffion, filence !I hear my

be notmaster.


Enter Petruchio and Kate.

Pet. Where be thefe knaves? what, no man at door to hold my stirrup, nor to take my horfe? where is Nathanael, Gregory, Philip?

All Serv. Here, here, Sir? here, Sir.

[ocr errors]

Pet. Here, Sir, here, Sir, here, Sir, here, Sir? You loggerheaded and unpolifh'd grooms: What? no attendance? no regard? no duty? Where is the foolish knave I fent before?

Gru. Here, Sir, as foolish as I was before.

Pet. You peafant fwain, you whorefon, malt-horfe drudge,

Did not I bid thee meet me in the park,

And bring along thefe rafcal knaves with thee?


Gru. Nathanael's coat, Sir, was not fully made: And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i'th'heel: There was no link to colour Peter's hat ',

And Walter's dagger was not come from fheathing:
There were none fine, but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory;
The reft were ragged, old and beggarly,

Yet as they are, here are they come to meet you.
Pet. Go, rafcals, go, and fetch my supper in.

Where is the life that late I led?

Where are those- -fit down, Kate

[Exeunt Servants. [Singing.

And welcome. Soud, foud, foud, foud'!

Enter Servants with Supper.

Why, when, I fay? nay, good sweet Kate, be merry.
Off with my boots, you rogue: you villains, when?

It was the Friar of Orders grey,
As he forth walked on his way.


Out, out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry.
Take that, and mind the plucking off the other.

[Strikes him. Be merry, Kate fome water here; what hoa!

Enter one with water.

Where's my spaniel Troilus? firrah, get you hence,
And bid my coufin Ferdinand come hither:

One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted with.
Where are my flippers; fhall I have fome water?
Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily:
You, whorefon villain, will you let it fall?

[ocr errors]

Cath. Patience, I pray you, 'twas a fault unwilling.
Pet. A whorefon, beatle-headed, flap-ear'd knave:

no link to colour Peter's hat,] Link, I believe, is the fame with what we now call lamp black.

[blocks in formation]


is, Sweet, fweet. Soot, good, and
fometimes footh, is fweet.
in Milton, to fing foothly, is, to
fing sweetly.


« AnteriorContinuar »