The Taming of the Shrew. Уильям Шекспир

          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 shall echoes from the hollow earth.

        FIRST SERVANT. Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as

      swift

          As breathed stags; ay, fleeter than the roe.

        SECOND SERVANT. 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 wi' th' wind.

        LORD. We'll show thee lo as she was a maid

          And how she was beguiled and surpris'd,

          As lively painted as the deed was done.

        THIRD SERVANT. 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.

        FIRST SERVANT. And, till the tears that she hath shed for thee

          Like envious floods o'er-run 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' th' smallest ale.

        SECOND SERVANT. Will't please your Mightiness to wash your

      hands?

          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?

        FIRST SERVANT. 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,

          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.

        THIRD SERVANT. 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,

          And Peter Turph, 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.

      Enter the PAGE as a lady, with ATTENDANTS

      Enter a MESSENGER