Ok, since I'll be speed updating, there shall be NO NOTES, until the last chapter!
So, I'll see you all then…HOPEFULLY!
Wish me luck!
-Shining Riku-
Let me warn you, this is in old English. Good luck reading it. :(
You've been warned.
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Up on the screen, scrolled a list of people, and who they were playing. Crazy yawned as it passed before his eyes. He hated plays, but for some reason, he was too tired to care.
Solid Snake-Christopher Sly - Tinker
Lyon-Bartholomew - A Page
Dr. Mario-Baptista Minola - Father of Kate and Bianca
C. Falcon-Vincentio - Father of Lucentio
Samus Aran-Katherine (Kate) - The "shrew" of the title
Ganon-Petruchio - Suitor and husband of Kate
Peach-Bianca - Sister of Kate; the ingenue
Mario-Lucentio - Suitor of Bianca (later disguised as the teacher Cambio)
Waluigi-Gremio - Elderly Suitor of Bianca
Wario-Hortensio - Suitor of Bianca (later disguised as the teacher Litio)
Nameless wireframe-A Pedant (later impersonates Vicentio)
Luigi-Tranio - Servant of Lucentio (later impersonates Lucentio)
Felious-Biondello - Servant of Lucentio
Marth-Grumio - Servant of Petruchio
Roy-Curtis - Servant of Petruchio
Paul-Nathaniel - Servant of Petruchio
Link-Joseph - Servant of Petruchio
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
SCENE I. Before an alehouse on a heath.
Inside an old hotel, in the dinning area, sat Snake, wrapped in beggar's clothing. He was being pestered by a female frame disguised as a hostess.
"I'll pheeze you, in faith." Snake grunted, before taking a swing from a glass and tossing it across the room.
"A pair of stocks, you rogue!" The hostess demanded.
"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!" Snake said, before grabbing another
glass and sucking it dry.
"You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?" the hostess asked angrily.
"No,
not a denier." Snake said. "Go by, Jeronimy: go to thy
cold
bed, and warm thee."
"I know my remedy; I
must go fetch the
third--borough." The hostess said. She
aimed her nose at the sky, and walked out the front door in a huff.
"Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him
by
law: I'll not budge an inch, boy: let him come,
and kindly."
Snake said to the empty space, before leaning back in his chair and
closing his eyes. In a matter of moments, he was asleep.
There was the sound of horns, and after a bit, Matt dressed in lordly clothing came in, followed by two frames in hunting clothing.
"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." Matt said.
"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." The first frame said.
"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." Matt said.
"I will, my lord." the frame replied.
Matt looked around the empty
room, then noticed the silent, still form of Snake.
"What's
here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?"
"He
breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd with ale,
This were a bed
but cold to sleep so soundly." the other huntsman said.
"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?" Matt
sighed.
"Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose." the first frame said.
"It would seem strange unto him when he waked." the second frame said.
"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." Matt
said.
"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." the first frame said.
"Take him up
gently and to bed with him;
And each one to his office when he
wakes." Matt said.
The frames carried Snake upstairs, and down a hallway out of sight. After they disappeared, a trumpet sounded.
"Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds:" Matt said.
A frame servant nearby nodded silently, and walked out.
"Belike, some noble gentleman that means,
Travelling
some journey, to repose him here." Matt said.
The servant reappeared.
"How now! who is it?" Matt exclaimed.
"An't please your honour, players
That
offer service to your lordship." The servant replied.
"Bid them come near." Matt ordered.
The servant leaned out the door and whistled sharply, then stepped back as more frames dressed up as musicians walked in.
"Now, fellows, you are welcome."
"We thank your honour." The musicians said.
"Do you intend to stay with me tonight?"
"So please your lordship to accept our duty." One of the musicians spoke up.
"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."
"I think 'twas Soto that your honour means." Another musician said.
"'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." Matt
said.
"Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves,
Were
he the veriest antic in the world." another frame said.
"Go,
sirrah, take them to the buttery,
And give them friendly welcome
every one:
Let them want nothing that my house affords." Matt
said while waving them away.
The musicians left the room, leaving Matt with his servant again.
"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 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
dispatch'd with all the haste thou canst:
Anon I'll give thee more
instructions."
The servant left the room once again.
"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." Matt said.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
SCENE II. A bedchamber in the Lord's house.
In Matt's supposed bedroom, Snake lay upon the bed in tidy clothes, and a few servant frames has cleaning basins and towels. Matt watched them as they worked.
Suddenly, Snake woke up with a groan.
"For God's sake, a pot of small ale." Snake said.
"Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack?" the first servant said.
"Will't please your honour taste of these conserves?" the second servant said.
"What raiment will your honour wear to-day?" the third servant asked.
"I am Christophero Sly; call not
me 'honour' nor
'lordship:' I ne'er drank sack in my life; 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,
sometimes more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my
toes
look through the over-leather." Snake said.
"Heaven
cease this idle humour in your honour!
O, that a mighty man of
such descent,
Of such possessions and so high esteem,
Should be
infused with so foul a spirit!" Matt laughed
mirthlessly.
"What, would you make me mad? Am not I
Christopher
Sly, old Sly's son of Burtonheath, by birth a
pedlar,
by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a
bear-herd, and now by
present profession a tinker?
Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife
of Wincot, if
she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen
pence
on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the
lyingest
knave in Christendom. What! I am not
bestraught: here's--"
Snake said.
"O, this it is that makes your lady mourn!" the third frame wailed.
"O, this is it that makes your servants droop!" the second servant sighed.
"Hence
comes it that your kindred shuns 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," Matt said.
The musicians slipped in, while playing light, airy 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."
"Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds
are as swift
As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe."
the first servant said.
"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." the second
servant said.
"We'll show thee Io as she was a maid,
And
how she was beguiled and surprised,
As lively painted as the deed
was done." spoke Matt
"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." the third frame said.
"Thou
art a lord, and nothing but a lord:
Thou hast a lady far more
beautiful
Than any woman in this waning age." Matt
said.
"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."
the first servant said.
"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 Christophero Sly.
Well, bring our lady hither to our
sight;
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale." Snake
requested.
"Will't please your mightiness to wash your
hands?
O, how we joy to see your wit restored!
O, that once
more you knew but what you are!
These fifteen years you have been
in a dream;
Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept." the
second frame said.
"These fifteen years! by my fay, a
goodly nap.
But did I never speak of all that time?" Matt
asked.
"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." the first servant said.
"Ay, the woman's maid of the house." Snake said.
"Why,
sir, you know no house nor no such maid,
Nor no such men as you
have reckon'd up,
As Stephen Sly and did 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." the third
servant said.
"Now Lord be thanked for my good amends!"
"Amen." everybody said.
"I
thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it."
Lyon, and a few
attendants slipped into the room, and Lyon was blushing madly, and he
was wearing a dress.
"How fares my noble lord?" Lyon faked a woman's voice excellently.
"Marry, I fare well
for here is cheer enough.
Where is my wife?" Snake
said.
"Here, noble lord: what is thy will with her?" Lyon said, blushing all the worse.
"Are you my wife and
will not call me husband?
My men should call me 'lord:' I am your
goodman." Snake said.
"My husband and my lord, my
lord and husband;
I am your wife in all obedience." Lyon
said.
"I know it well. What must I call her?" Snake said.
"Madam." Matt nodded.
"Al'ce madam, or Joan madam?" Snake asked.
"'Madam,' and
nothing else: so lords
call ladies." Matt explained.
"Madam
wife, they say that I have dream'd
And slept above some fifteen
year or more." Snake wondered.
"Ay, and the time
seems thirty unto me,
Being all this time abandon'd from your
bed." Lyon said.
"'Tis much. Servants, leave me and
her alone.
Madam, undress you and come now to bed." Snake
ordered.
"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 charged,
In peril to
incur your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your
bed:
I hope this reason stands for my excuse." Lyon said,
blushing so badly his face was pure crimson, as if he were on
fire.
"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." Snake
said, sounding like he couldn't care less.
Just then, a messenger appeared in the doorway.
"Your honour's
players, heating 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." The messenger said.
"Marry,
I will, let them play it. Is not a
comondy a Christmas gambold or
a tumbling-trick?" Snake asked.
"No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff." Lyon assured him.
"What, household stuff?" Snake asked.
"It is a kind of
history." Lyon explained."Well, well see't. Come,
madam wife, sit by my side
and let the world slip: we shall ne'er
be younger." Snake
said.
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