Lord 

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 thee,

Each in his office, ready at thy beck.

Wilt thou have music?

     Hark, Apollo plays,

And twenty caged nightingales do sing.

Or wilt thou sleep? We'll have thee to the couch

Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed

On purpose trimmed for Semiramis.

Say thou wilt walk, we will betrew the ground.

Or wilt thou ride, thy horses shall be trapped,

Their harness studded with gold and pearl.

Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar

Above the morning lark.  Or wilt thou hunt,

Thy hounds will make the welkin answer them

And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.

First Servingman

Say thou wilt course, thy greyhounds are as swift

As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.

Second Servingman

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 the wind.

Lord

We'll show thee Io as she was a maid,

And how she was beguiled and surprised,

And lively panted as the deed was done.

Third Servingman

Or Daphe roaming through a thorny wood,

Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds,

And at that night shall sad Apollo weep,

So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.

Lord

Thou art a lord and nothing but a lord.   

The Taming of the Shrew

Act 1, Scene 1

William Shakespeare     

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