Why the Induction in The Taming of the Shrew lacks an ending

The overarching theme in The Taming of the Shrew—one that echoes through the entire play—is that of role-playing. The thematic resonance on role-playing is literally incessant. It begins with the Induction, where Shakespeare arranges for Sly, to be fooled by circumstances into playing the role of a lord, surrounded by attendants playing their required roles in the elaborate deception, watching a troop of players playing their respective roles in the play-within-a-play.

Then we find the characters in this main action of The Taming of the Shrew also playing roles according to their circumstances and schemes. Tranio plays the role of Lucentio, while the real Lucentio plays the role of Cambio, and Hortensio plays the role of Litio. Biondello is roped in to play the role of servant to the fake Lucentio, and later the travelling pedant plays the role of Lucentio’s father, Vincentio. Petruchio, even though he is not impersonating someone else, is clearly also role-playing for the purpose of subduing Kate, as he clearly informs us in his many short soliloquys.

The role-playing theme is multilayered like the skins of an onion. We peel off one layer of role-playing to find yet another layer of it at a deeper level. Shakespeare opens the play with ever-deepening layers of role-playing. The Induction informs us that we are watching a play-within-a-play, and has the purpose of building the multilayered nature of the role-playing theme.

The players that Christopher Sly is watching are playing their roles (roles that themselves involve role-playing within their play). Sly himself is playing a role, deviously imposed on him by the Duke’s men playing their roles in the deception. Of course, the real-life performers who are playing Sly and the Duke’s men in the play are also playing their roles. And we are watching these performers playing their roles. Does the regression stop here? Are we, who are watching this play, also not role-playing ourselves? We are effectively playing the roles that circumstances in our lives have imposed upon us.

At the end of the play, the audience may suddenly be aware that the Christopher Sly story has been left hanging. There is no resolution to the scheme that tricked Sly into playing the role of a lord. Did Shakespeare forget to provide an ending? This is hardly possible, as even the actors in his time would have reminded him of it.

Shakespeare has deliberately left the Sly story unfinished. Why? It is Shakespeare’s way of informing us that the role-playing does not end with the end of the play. At the end, Sly is still playing his role as a lord. And we are also still playing our roles, in our real lives, after we finish watching the play. This is how Shakespeare expands the theme by leaving it open-ended to encompass all of us in our real lives. Shakespeare leaves us with the sense that this role-playing persists way beyond the conclusion of the last Act.

What is Shakespeare’s key point? It is reflected in the question of whether Kate has really been “tamed” as the title of the play suggests. The play’s relentless thematic resonance on role-playing means that Shakespeare is suggesting that Kate herself may only be role-playing, to adapt to her external circumstances.

Shakespeare poses a more intriguing question. Has Kate’s personality really changed? In one sense, the answer seems to be no, since she is merely role-playing. Yet, in another sense, the answer may be yes. The reason is this: Is not our “personality”—at least to some extent—characterized by the roles we play? The “domineering husband,” the “submissive wife,” and so on, are roles we play; yet these roles also make up our so-called personality.

We are now confronted with an even deeper question: Is there really such a thing as our “real personality”? There is no clear demarcation between personality and the roles we play. And, given that under altered external circumstances, the roles we play also alter, what then is our “real personality”? There appears to be no such enduring entity because our personality—subject to external conditions—can and do change. Thus, we do not have a definitive unchanging “real personality” that defines who we are.

The significance of this is akin to that found in The Comedy of Errors, where we learn that labels do not define who we are. Here, in The Taming of the Shrew, we learn that, just as labels do not define our identity, neither do the roles we play. This realization will reduce the sense of separation caused by the different roles we play. It reduces the “us versus them” mentality, that under unfortunate circumstances may even be severe enough to lead to conflicts and wars. In this age of nuclear weaponry, this may mean the horror of an apocalyptic catastrophe. 

Shakespeare thus points out, in The Taming of the Shrew, that it is a mistake to think that we each have a distinct enduring identity depending on the role we play. This delusion conjures up an atmosphere of separateness. It creates a shattered world that is at odds with the true spiritual state of universal oneness in the brotherhood of man.