Lean. Don Diego, you know my father well, Don Alphonfo de Luna; I am a scholar of this university, and am willing to fubmit to whatever punishment he, thro' your means, fhall inflict; but wreak not your vengeance here. Dieg. Thus then my hopes and cares are at once fru. ftrated; poffefs'd of what I thought a jewel, I was defirous to keep it for myself; I rais'd up the walls of this houfe to a great height; I barr'd up my windows towards the street; I put double bolts on my doors; I banish'd all that had the shadow of man or male kind; and I ftood continually centinel over it myself, to guard my fufpicion from surprise: thus fecur'd, I left my watch for one little moment, and in that moment. Leon. Pray, pray, guardian, let me tell you the ftory, and you'll find I am not to blame. Dieg. No, child, I only am to blame, who fhould have confidered that fixteen and fixty agree ill together. But tho' I was too old to be wife, I am not too old to learn; and fo, I fay, fend for a fmith directly, beat all the grates from my windows, take the locks from my doors, and let egrefs and regress be given freely. Leon. And will you be my husband, Sir? Dieg. No, child, I will give you to one that will make you a better husband: here, young man, take her: if your parents confent, to-morrow fhall fee you join'd in the face of the church; and the dowry which I promised her, in cafe of failure on my fide of the contract, shall now go with her as a marriage-portion. Lean. Signor, this is fo generous Dieg. No thanks; perhaps I owe acknowledgments to you; but you, Urfula, have no excufe, no paffion to plead, and your age fhould have taught you better. I'll give you five hundred crowns, but never let me fee you more. Mun. And what you give me, Massa? Dieg. Baftinadoes for your drunkennefs and infidelity. Call in my neighbours and friends. Oh! man! man! how fhort is your forefight, how ineffectual your prudence, while the very means you use are deftructive of your ends! Go Go forge me fetters that shall bind My mafter here is quite abfurd. That men fhould rule our fex is meet; Where the fun's warm and melting rays, Which wid dis matter will agre: An owl once took it in his head Lean. To fum up all you now have heard, Let all her ways be unconfin'd; VOL. III. Bb САТНА. To various things the flage has been compar'd, This night, for want of better fimile, So, as the cant and cuftom of the trade is, "You're welcome, gem'min; and kindly welcome, ladies." To draw in customers, our bills are spread; You cannot mifs the fign, 'tis Shakespeare's head. From From this fame bead, this fountain-head divine, For you, my [To the upper gallery. But foou'd you call for Falstaff, where to find him; No more, with merry wags, to Eaftcheape come: He's gone to jeft and laugh and give bis fack at home, As for the learned critics, grave and deep, Who catch at words, and catching fall asleep; Who in the forms of paffion-bum-and bar! For fuch our mafter will no liquor draw. So blindly thoughtful, and fo darkly read, They take Tom Durffy's for the Shakespeare's bead. They drank whole nights what's that—when wine is pure? "Here's cream!-damn'd fine!—immenfe! upon my word!” Sir William, what fay you?—The beft, believe me In this eb Jack!—the devil can't deceive me. Thus the wife critic, too, miftakes his wine, Cries out with lifted bands, 'tis great!divine! Then jogs his neighbour, as the wonders ftrike him; This Shakespeare! Shakespeare!-ob there's nothing like him! Some little perry's mixt for filling up.. The five long acts, from which our three are taken, * Left then this precious liquor run to wafte, 'Tis now confin'd and bottled to your tafte. 'Tis my chief wifh, my joy, my only plan, To lofe no drop of that immortal man ! * The action of the Winter's Tale, as written by Shakespeare, comprehends fixteen years. [N. B. This prologue was spoken to the dramatic paftoral, called the Winter's Tale, and to this comedy, both of which are altered from Shakespeare, and were performed the fame night.] ACT I. SCENE, Baptifta's House. Enter BAPTISTA, PETRUCHIO, and GRUMIO.' ΤΗ HUS have I, 'gainst my own felf-intereft, You have my free confent, win her, and wed her. You knew him well, and knowing him know me, Bap. Yes, when the fpecial thing is well obtain'd, My daughter's love; for that is all in all. Pet. Why, that is nothing: for I tell you, father, I am as peremptory as fhe proud-minded; And where two raging fires meet together, They do confume the thing that feeds their fury. Tho' little fire grows great with little wind, Yet extreme gults will blow out fire and all;' So I to her, and fo fhe yields to me; For I am rough, and woo not like a babe. Grum. Nay, look you, Sir, he tells you flatly what his mind is why, give him gold enough, and marry him to a puppet, or an old trot with ne'er a tooth in * her head. Tho' she had as many difeafes as two-andfifty horfes, why, nothing comes amifs, fo money comes withal.' Bap. As I have fhow'd you, Sir, the coarfer fide, Now let me tell you, fhe is young and beauteous, Brought up as beft becomes a gentlewoman; Her only fault (and that is fault enough) Is, |