Speeches (Lines) for Christopher Sly in "The Taming of the Shrew"

Total: 24
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# Act / Scene Speech text
1 Prologue / 1
  • I'll pheeze you, in faith.
  • I'll pheeze you, in faith.
  • .

    Christopher Sly. I'll pheeze you, in faith.

2 Prologue / 1
  • Y'are a baggage; the Slys are no rogues. Look in the
    chronicles: we came in...
  • 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!
  • Hostess. A pair of stocks, you rogue!

    Christopher 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!

3 Prologue / 1
  • No, not a denier. Go by, Saint Jeronimy, go to thy cold bed
    and warm thee.
  • No, not a denier. Go by, Saint Jeronimy, go to thy cold bed
    and warm thee.
  • Hostess. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?

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

4 Prologue / 1
  • Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by law.
    I'll not budge a...
  • Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by law.
    I'll not budge an inch, boy; let him come, and kindly.
    [Falls asleep]
    Wind horns. Enter a LORD from hunting, with his train
  • Hostess. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the third-borough.

    Christopher 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.
    [Falls asleep]
    Wind horns. Enter a LORD from hunting, with his train

5 Prologue / 2
  • For God's sake, a pot of small ale.
  • For God's sake, a pot of small ale.
  • Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery,
    And give them friendly welcome every one;
    Let them want nothing that my house affords.
    [Exit one with the PLAYERS]
    Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew 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 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 overjoyed
    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 dispatch'd with all the haste thou canst;
    Anon I'll give thee more instructions. Exit a SERVINGMAN
    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

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

6 Prologue / 2
  • I am Christophero Sly; call not me 'honour' nor 'lordship.' I
    ne'er drank sa...
  • 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, sometime more feet than
    shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather.
  • Third Servant. What raiment will your honour wear to-day?

    Christopher Sly. 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, sometime more feet than
    shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather.

7 Prologue / 2
  • What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old
    Sly's son of Burt...
  • What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old
    Sly's son of Burton Heath; 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 lying'st knave in
    Christendom. What! I am not bestraught. [Taking a pot of ale]
    Here's-
  • Lord. 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!

    Christopher Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old
    Sly's son of Burton Heath; 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 lying'st knave in
    Christendom. What! I am not bestraught. [Taking a pot of ale]
    Here's-

8 Prologue / 2
  • Am I a lord and have I such a lady?
    Or do I dream? Or have I dream'd till no...
  • 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.
  • 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.

    Christopher 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.

9 Prologue / 2
  • These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap.
    But did I never speak of all t...
  • These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap.
    But did I never speak of all that time?
  • 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.

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

10 Prologue / 2
  • Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
  • Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
  • 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.

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

11 Prologue / 2
  • Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends!
  • Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends!
  • 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.

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

12 Prologue / 2
  • I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it.
  • I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it.
  • All. Amen.

    Christopher Sly. I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it.

13 Prologue / 2
  • Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough.
    Where is my wife?
  • Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough.
    Where is my wife?
  • Page. How fares my noble lord?

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

14 Prologue / 2
  • Are you my wife, and will not call me husband?
    My men should call me 'lord';...
  • Are you my wife, and will not call me husband?
    My men should call me 'lord'; I am your goodman.
  • Page. Here, noble lord; what is thy will with her?

    Christopher Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me husband?
    My men should call me 'lord'; I am your goodman.

15 Prologue / 2
  • I know it well. What must I call her?
  • I know it well. What must I call her?
  • Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;
    I am your wife in all obedience.

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

16 Prologue / 2
  • Al'ce madam, or Joan madam?
  • Al'ce madam, or Joan madam?
  • Lord. Madam.

    Christopher Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam?

17 Prologue / 2
  • Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd
    And slept above some fifteen year o...
  • Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd
    And slept above some fifteen year or more.
  • Lord. Madam, and nothing else; so lords call ladies.

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

18 Prologue / 2
  • 'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone.
    [Exeunt SERVANTS]
    Madam, un...
  • 'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone.
    [Exeunt SERVANTS]
    Madam, undress you, and come now to bed.
  • Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me,
    Being all this time abandon'd from your bed.

    Christopher Sly. 'Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone.
    [Exeunt SERVANTS]
    Madam, undress you, and come now to bed.

19 Prologue / 2
  • Ay, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long. But I would be
    loath to fa...
  • 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.
  • 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.

    Christopher 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.

20 Prologue / 2
  • Marry, I will; let them play it. Is not a comonty a
    Christmas gambold or a t...
  • Marry, I will; let them play it. Is not a comonty a
    Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick?
  • Messenger. 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.

    Christopher Sly. Marry, I will; let them play it. Is not a comonty a
    Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick?

21 Prologue / 2
  • What, household stuff?
  • What, household stuff?
  • Page. No, my good lord, it is more pleasing stuff.

    Christopher Sly. What, household stuff?

22 Prologue / 2
  • Well, we'll see't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side and let
    the world slip;-...
  • Well, we'll see't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side and let
    the world slip;-we shall ne'er be younger.
  • Page. It is a kind of history.

    Christopher Sly. Well, we'll see't. Come, madam wife, sit by my side and let
    the world slip;-we shall ne'er be younger.

23 I / 1
  • Yes, by Saint Anne do I. A good matter, surely; comes there
    any more of it?
  • Yes, by Saint Anne do I. A good matter, surely; comes there
    any more of it?
  • First Servant. My lord, you nod; you do not mind the play.

    Christopher Sly. Yes, by Saint Anne do I. A good matter, surely; comes there
    any more of it?

24 I / 1
  • 'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady
    Would 'twere done!...
  • 'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady
    Would 'twere done! [They sit and mark]
  • Page. My lord, 'tis but begun.

    Christopher Sly. 'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady
    Would 'twere done! [They sit and mark]

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© Copyright 2017-2022 Shakespeare Network - Maximianno Cobra - All rights reserved.