The Taming of the Shrew

Sly

I’ll pheeze you, in faith.

Hostess

A pair of stocks, you rogue!

Sly

Hostess

You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?

Sly

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

Hostess

I know my remedy; I must go fetch the thirdborough.

[Exit.]

Sly

[Wind horns. 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;

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.

1 Huntsman

Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;

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.

To-morrow I intend to hunt again.

1 Huntsman

I will, my lord.

Lord

What’s here? One dead, or drunk?

See, doth he breathe?

2 Huntsman

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.

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?

1 Huntsman

2 Huntsman

It would seem strange unto him when he wak’d.

Lord

Even as a flatt’ring dream or worthless fancy.

Then take him up, and manage well the jest:

Carry him gently to my fairest chamber,