INTRODUCTION.

Shakespeare was indebted for nearly the whole plot of his “Taming of the Shrew” to an older play, published in 1594, under the title of “The Taming of a Shrew.” The mere circumstance of the adoption of the title, substituting only the definite for the indefinite article, proves that he had not the slightest intention of concealing his obligation.

When Steevens published the “Six Old Plays,” more or less employed by Shakespeare in six of his own dramas, no earlier edition of the “Taming of a Shrew” than that of 1607 was known. It was conjectured, however, that it had come from the press at an earlier date, and Pope appeared to have been once in possession of a copy of it, published as early as 1594. This copy has since been recovered, and is now in the collection of the Duke of Devonshire: the exact title of it is as follows:—

“A Pleasant Conceited Historic, called The taming of a Shrew. As it was sundry times acted by the Right honorable the Earle of Pembrook his seruants. Printed at London by Peter Short and are to be sold by Cutbert Burbie, at his shop at the Royall Exchange. 1594.” 4to.

It was reprinted in 1596, and a copy of that edition is in the possession of Lord Francis Egerton. The impression of 1607, the copy used by Steevens, is in the collection of the Duke of Devonshire.

There are three entries in the Registers of the Stationers' Company relating to “The Taming of a Shrew” but not one referring to Shakespeare's “Taming of the Shrew^{1 note}.” When Blounte and Jaggard, on the 8th Nov. 1623, entered “Mr. William Shakspeere's Comedyes, Histories, and Tragedyes, soe many of the said copies as are not formerly entered to other men,” they did not include “The Taming of the Shrew:” hence an inference might be drawn, that at some previous time it had been “entered to other men;” but no such entry has been found, and Shakespeare's comedy, probably, was never printed until it was inserted in the folio of of 1623.

On the question, when it was originally composed, opinions, including my own, have varied considerably; but I now think we can arrive at a tolerably satisfactory decision. Malone first believed that “The Taming of the Shrew” was written in 1606, and subsequently gave 1596 as its probable date. It appears to me, that nobody has sufficiently attended to the apparently unimportant fact that in “Hamlet” Shakespeare mistakenly introduces the name of Baptista as that of a woman, while in “The Taming of the Shrew” Baptista is the father of Katharine and Bianca. Had he been aware when he wrote “Hamlet” that Baptista was the name of a man, he would hardly have used it for that of a woman; but before he produced “The Taming of the Shrew” he had detected his own error. The great probability is, that “Hamlet” was written at the earliest in 1601, and “The Taming of the Shrew” perhaps came from the pen of its author not very long afterwards.

The recent reprint of “The pleasant Comedy of Patient Grissill,” by Dekker, Chettle, and Haughton, from the edition of 1603, tends to throw light on this point. Henslowe's Diary establishes, that the three dramatists above named were writing it in the winter of 1599. It contains various allusions to the taming of shrews; and it is to be recollected that the old “Taming of a Shrew” was acted by Henslowe's company, and is mentioned by him under the date of 11th June, 1594. One of the passages in “Patient Grissill,” which seems to connect the two, occurs in Act v. sc. 2, where Sir Owen, producing his wands, says to the marquess, “I will learn your medicines to tame shrews.” This expression is remarkable, because we find by Henslowe's Diary that, in July, 1602, Dekker received a payment from the old manager, on account of a comedy he was writing under the title of “A Medicine for a curst Wife.” My conjecture is, that Shakespeare (in coalition, possibly, with some other dramatist, who wrote the portions which are admitted not to be in Shakespeare's manner) produced his “Taming of the Shrew” soon after “Patient Grissill” had been brought upon the stage, and as a sort of counterpart to it; and that Dekker followed up the subject in the summer of 1602 by his “Medicine for a curst Wife,” having been incited by the success of Shakespeare's “Taming of the Shrew” at a rival theatre. At this time the old “Taming of a Shrew” had been laid by as a public performance, and Shakespeare having very nearly adopted its title, Dekker took a different one, in accordance with the expression he had used two or three years before in “Patient Grissill^{2 note}.”

The silence of Meres in 1598 regarding any such play by Shakespeare is also important: had it then been written, he could scarcely

have failed to mention it; so that we have strong negative evidence of its non-existence before the appearance of Palladis Tamia. When Sir John Harington, in his “Metamorphosis of Ajax,” 1596, says, “Read the booke of ‘Taming a Shrew,’, which hath made a number of us so perfect that now every one can rule a shrew in our country, save he that hath her,” he meant the old “Taming of a Shrew,” reprinted in the same year. In that play we have not only the comedy in which Petruchio and Katharine are chiefly engaged, but the Induction, which is carried out to the close; for Sly and the Tapster conclude the piece, as they had begun it.

As it is evident that Shakespeare made great use of the old comedy, both in his Induction and in the body of his play, it is not necessary to inquire particularly to what originals the writer of “The Taming of a Shrew” resorted. As regards the Induction, Douce was of opinion that the story of “The Sleeper awakened,” in the “Arabian Nights' Entertainments,” was the source of the many imitations which have, from time to time, been referred to. Warton (Hist. Engl. Poetry, iv. 117. Edit. 1824) tells us, that among the books of Collins was a collection of tales by Richard Edwards, dated in 1570, and including “the Induction of the Tinker in Shakespeare's ‘Taming of the Shrew.’” This might be the original employed by the author of the old “Taming of a Shrew.” For the play itself he, perhaps, availed himself of some now unknown translation of Nott. viii. fab. 2, of the Piacevoli Notti of Straparola.

The Suppositi of Ariosto, freely translated by Gascoyne, (before 1566, when it was acted at Grey's Inn) under the title of “The Supposes,” seems to have afforded Shakespeare part of his plot: it relates to the manner in which Lucentio and Tranio pass off the Pedant as Vincentio, which is not found in the old “Taming of a Shrew.” In the list of persons preceding Gascoyne's “Supposes” Shakespeare found the name of Petrucio, (a character not so called by Ariosto,) and hence, perhaps, he adopted it. It affords another slight link of connexion between “The Taming of the Shrew” and “The Supposes;” but there exists a third, still slighter, of which no notice has been taken. It consists of the use of the word “supposes,” in A. v. sc. 1, exactly in the substantive sense in which it is employed by Gascoyne, and in reference to that part of the story which had been derived from his translation. How little Shakespeare's “Taming of the Shrew” was known in the beginning of the eighteenth century, may be judged from the fact, that “The Tatler,” No. 231, contains the story of it, told as of a gentleman's family then residing in Lincolnshire.

1 ^note.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ A Lord. Person in the Induction. CHRISTOPHER SLY, a Tinker. Person in the Induction. Hostess, Page, Players, Huntsmen, and Servants, Persons in the Induction. [Page], [Player 1], [Player 2], [Players], [Huntsman 1], [Huntsman 2], [Servant], [Servant 1], [Servant 2], [Servant 3], [Servants] BAPTISTA, a rich Gentleman of Padua. VINCENTIO, an old Gentleman of Pisa. LUCENTIO, Son to Vincentio. PETRUCHIO, a Gentleman of Verona. GREMIO, Suitor to Bianca. HORTENSIO, Suitor to Bianca. TRANIO, Servant to Lucentio. BIONDELLO, Servant to Lucentio. GRUMIO, Servant to Petruchio. CURTIS, Servant to Petruchio. The Pedant. KATHARINA [Katherina], Daughter to Baptista. BIANCA, Daughter to Baptista. Widow. Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Baptista and Petruchio. [Servant], [Nathaniel], [Philip], [Joseph], [Nicholas], [Peter] SCENE, sometimes in Padua; and sometimes in Petruchio's House in the Country.

11Q0364

TAMING OF THE SHREW.

INDUCTION. SCENE I. Before an Alehouse on a Heath. Enter Hostess and Sly.

Sly.

I'll pheese you, in faith^{1 note note}.

Host.

A pair of stocks, you rogue!

Sly.

Y'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^{2 note}!

Host.

You will not pay for the glasses you have burst^{3 note}?

Sly.
No, not a denier. Go by, S. Jeronimy:
Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee^{4 note}
.

Host.

I know my remedy; I must go fetch and headborough^{5 note}.

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.

Lord.
Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds:
Brach Merriman,—the poor cur is emboss'd^{6 note},
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.

1 Hun.
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.

1 Hun.
I will, my lord.

Lord.
What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?

2 Hun.
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?

1 Hun.
Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.

2 Hun.
It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd.

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 with 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 bason,
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 11Q0365^{7 note},
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.

1 Hun.
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.— [Sly is borne out. A trumpet sounds.
Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds:— [Exit Servant.
Belike, some noble gentleman, that means,
Travelling some journey, to repose him here.— Re-enter Servant.
How now? who is it?

Serv.
An it 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 to-night?

2 Play.
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.

1 Play.
I think, 'twas Soto that your honour means^{8 note}.

Lord.
'Tis very true: thou didst it excellent.
Well, you are come to me in 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-eying of his odd behaviour,
(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.

1 Play.
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.— [Exeunt Servant and Players.
Sirrah, go you to Bartholmew my page, [To a Servant.
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 observ'd 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 restor'd to health,
Who for this seven years hath esteemed him
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar.
And if the boy have not a woman's gift,
To rain a shower of commanded tears,
An onion will do well for such a shift,
Which, in a napkin being close convey'd,
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst:
Anon I'll give thee more instructions. [Exit Servant.
I know, the boy will well usurp the grace,
Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman:
I long to hear him call the drunkard husband,
And how my men will stay themselves from laughter,
When they do homage to this simple peasant.
I'll in to counsel them: haply, my presence
May well abate the over-merry spleen,
Which otherwise would grow into extremes. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Bedchamber in the Lord's House. Sly is discovered^{9 note}, with Attendants; some with apparel, others with bason, ewer, and appurtenances. Enter Lord, dressed like a Servant.

Sly.

For God's sake, a pot of small ale.

1 Serv.

Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack?

2 Serv.

Will't please your honour taste of these conserves?

3 Serv.

What raiment will your honour wear today?

Sly.

I am Christophero Sly; call not me honour, nor lordship: I ne'er drank sack in my life^{1 note}; and if you give me any conserves, give me conserves of beef. Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay, sometime, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather.

Lord.
Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour! 11Q0366
O! that a mighty man, of such descent,
Of such possessions, and so high esteem,
Should be infused with so foul a spirit!

Sly.

What! would you make me mad? Am not I

Christopher Sly, old Sly's son, of Burton-heath^{2 note}; by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd^{3 note}, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat alewife of Wincot^{4 note}, if she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale, 11Q0367 score me up for the lyingest knave in Christendom. What! I am not bestraught^{5 note}. Here's—

1 Serv.
O! this it is that makes your lady mourn.

2 Serv.
O! this it is^{6 note} that makes your servants droop.

Lord.
Hence comes it that your kindred shun your house,
As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.
O, noble lord! bethink thee of thy birth;
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.
Look how thy servants do attend on thee,
Each in his office ready at thy beck:
Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays, [Music.
And twenty caged nightingales do sing:
Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch,
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.
Say thou wilt walk, we will bestrew the ground:
Or wilt thou ride, thy horses shall be trapp'd,

Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark: or wilt thou hunt?
Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them,
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.

1 Serv.
Say thou wilt course, thy greyhounds are as swift
As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.

2 Serv.
Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight
Adonis painted by a running brook,
And Cytherea all in sedges hid,
Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.

Lord.
We'll show thee Io as she was a maid,
And how she was beguiled and surpris'd,
As lively painted as the deed was done.

3 Serv.
Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,
Scratching her legs, that one shall swear she bleeds;
And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,
So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.

Lord.
Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:
Thou hast a lady, far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waning age.

1 Serv.
And, till the tears that she hath shed for thee,
Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world;
And yet she is inferior to none.

Sly.
Am I a lord? and have I such a lady?
Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now?
I do not sleep; I see, I hear, I speak:
I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things.—
Upon my life, I am a lord, indeed,
And not a tinker, nor Christopher Sly.—
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.

2 Serv.
Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands? [Servants present an ewer, bason, and napkin.
O, how we joy to see your wit restor'd!
O, that once more you knew but what you are!
These fifteen years you have been in a dream,
Or, when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept.

Sly.
These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap.
But did I never speak of all that time?

1 Serv.
O! yes, my lord, but very idle words;—
For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of door,
And rail upon the hostess of the house,
And say you would present her at the leet^{7 note},
Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts.
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.

Sly.
Ay, the woman's maid of the house.

3 Serv.
Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such maid,
Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd up,—
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece^{8 note},
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell,
And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.

Sly.
Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends!

All.
Amen.

Sly.
I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it. Enter the Page, as a lady, with Attendants.

Page.
How fares my noble lord?

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

Page.
Here, noble lord: what is thy will with her?

Sly.
Are you my wife, and will not call me husband?
My men should call me lord: I am your good-man.

Page.
My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;
I am your wife in all obedience.

Sly.
I know it well.—What must I call her?

Lord.
Madam.

Sly.
Al'ce madam, or Joan madam?

Lord.
Madam, and nothing else: so lords call ladies.

Sly.
Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd,
And slept above some fifteen year and more. 11Q0368

Page.
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.

Page.
Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you
To pardon me yet for a night or two;
Or if not so, until the sun be set,
For your physicians have expressly charg'd,
In peril to incur your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed.
I hope this reason stands for my excuse.

Sly.

Ay, it stands so, that I may hardly tarry so long; but I would be loath to fall into my dreams again: I will therefore tarry, in despite of the flesh and the blood.

Serv.
Your honour's players, hearing your amendment,
Are come to play a pleasant comedy;
For so your doctors hold it very meet,
Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood,
And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy:

Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play,
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life.

Sly.

Marry, I will let them play it. Is not a commonty a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling-trick?

Page.
No, my good lord: it is more pleasing stuff.

Sly.
What, household stuff?

Page.
It is a kind of history.

Sly.
Well, we'll see't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side,
And let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger. 11Q0369

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