We have hitherto supposed Shakspeare the author of The
Taming of The Shrew, but his property in it is extremely disputable.
I will give my opinion, and the reasons on which it is
founded. I suppose then the present play not originally the work
of Shakspeare, but restored by him to the stage, with the whole
Induction of the Tinker; and some other occasional improvements;
especially in the character of Petruchio. It is very obvious
that the Induction and the Play were either the words of
different hands, or written at a great interval of time. The
former is in our author's best manner, and a great part of the
latter in his worst, or even below it. Dr. Warburton declares it
to be certainly spurious; and without doubt, supposing it to
have been written by Shakspeare, it must have been one of his
earliest productions. Yet it is not mentioned in the list of his
works by Meres in 1598.
I have met with a facetious piece of Sir John Harrington,
printed in 1596, (and possibly there may be an earlier edition,)
called The Metamorphosis of Ajax, where I suspect an allusion
to the old play: “Read the Booke of Taming a Shrew, which
hath made a number of us so perfect, that now every one can
rule a shrew in our countrey, save he that hath hir.”—I am
aware a modern linguist may object that the word book does not
at present seem dramatick, but it was once technically so:
Gosson, in his Schoole of Abuse, containing a pleasant Invective
against Poets, Pipers, Players, Jesters, and such like Caterpillars
of a Commonwealth, 1578, mentions “twoo prose bookes
played at the Bell-Sauage:” and Hearne tells us, in a note at
the end of William of Worcester, that he had seen a MS. in the
nature of a Play or Interlude, intitled The Booke of Sir Thomas
Moore.
And in fact there is such an old anonymous play in Mr. Pope's
list: “A pleasant conceited history, called, The Taming of a
Shrew—sundry times acted by the Earl of Pembroke his servants.”
Which seems to have been republished by the remains of that
company in 1607, when Shakspeare's copy appeared at the
Black-Friars or the Globe.—Nor let this seem derogatory from
the character of our poet. There is no reason to believe that he
wanted to claim the play as his own; for it was not even printed
till some years after his death; but he merely revived it on his
stage as a manager.
In support of what I have said relative to this play, let me
-- 352 --
only observe further at present, that the author of Hamlet speaks
of Gonzago, and his wife Baptista; but the author of The
Taming of the Shrew knew Baptista to be the name of a man.
Mr. Capell indeed made me doubt, by declaring the authenticity
of it to be confirmed by the testimony of Sir Aston Cockayn. I
knew Sir Aston was much acquainted with the writers immediately
subsequent to Shakspeare; and I was not inclined to dispute his
authority: but how was I surprised, when I found that Cockayn
ascribes nothing more to Shakspeare, than the Induction, Wincot
Ale, and the Beggar! I hope this was only a slip of Mr. Capell's memory.
Farmer.
The following is Sir Aston's Epigram:
“TO MR. CLEMENT FISHER, OF WINCOT.
“Shakspeare your Wincot-ale hath much renown'd,
“That fox'd a beggar so (by chance was found
“Sleeping) that there needed not many a word
“To make him to believe he was a lord:
“But you affirm (and in it seem most eager)
“'Twill make a lord as drunk as any beggar.
“Bid Norton brew such ale as Shakspeare fancies
“Did put Kit Sly into such lordly trances:
“And let us meet there (for a fit of gladness)
“And drink ourselves merry in sober sadness.”
Sir A. Cockayn's Poems, 1659, p. 124.
In spite of the great deference which is due from every commentator
to Dr. Farmer's judgment, I own I cannot concur with
him on the present occasion. I know not to whom I could impute
this comedy, if Shakspeare was not its author. I think his
hand is visible in almost every scene, though perhaps not so evidently
as in those which pass between Katharine and Petruchio.
I once thought that the name of this play might have been
taken from an old story, entitled, The Wyf lapped in Morells
Skin, or The Taming of a Shrew; but I have since discovered
among the entries in the books of the Stationers' Company the
following: “Peter Shorte] May 2, 1594, a pleasaunt conceyted
hystorie, called, The Taminge of a Shrowe.” It is likewise
entered to Nich. Ling. Jan. 22, 1606; and to John Smythwicke,
Nov. 19, 1607.
It was no uncommon practice among the authors of the age
of Shakspeare, to avail themselves of the titles of ancient performances.
Thus, as Mr. Warton has observed, Spenser sent
out his Pastorals under the title of The Shepherd's Kalendar,
a work which had been printed by Wynken de Worde, and reprinted
about twenty years before these poems of Spenser appeared, viz. 1559.
Dr. Percy, in the first volume of his Reliques of Ancient English
-- 353 --
Poetry, is of opinion, that The Frolicksome Duke, or the
Tinker's Good Fortune, an ancient ballad in the Pepys' Collection,
might have suggested to Shakspeare the Induction for this comedy.
The following story, however, which might have been the
parent of all the rest, is related by Burton in his Anatomy of
Melancholy, edit. 1632, p. 649: “A Tartar Prince, saith
Marcus Polus, lib. ii. cap. 28, called Senex de Montibus, the
better to establish his government amongst his subjects, and to
keepe them in awe, found a convenient place in a pleasant valley
environed with hills, in which he made a delitious parke full of
odorifferous flowers and fruits, and a palace full of all contents that could possibly be devised, musicke, pictures, variety
of meats, &c. and chose out a certaine young man whom with
a soporiferous potion he so benummed, that he perceived nothing;
and so fast asleepe as he was, caused him to be conveied into this
faire garden. Where, after he had lived awhile in all such pleasures
a sensuall man could desire, he cast him into a sleepe againe,
and brought him forth, that when he waked he might tell others he
had beene in Paradise.”—Marco Paolo, quoted by Burton, was
a traveller of the 13th century.
Chance, however, has at last furnished me with the original
to which Shakspeare was indebted for his fable; nor does this
discovery at all dispose me to retract my former opinion, which
the reader may find at the conclusion of the play. Such parts
of the dialogue as our author had immediately imitated, I have
occasionally pointed out at the bottom of the page; but must
refer the reader, who is desirous to examine the whole structure
of the piece, to Six old Plays on which Shakspeare founded, &c.
published by S. Leacroft, at Charing-cross, as a Supplement to
our commentaries on Shakspeare.
Beaumont and Fletcher wrote what may be called a sequel to
this comedy, viz. The Woman's Prize, or the Tamer Tam'd; in
which Petruchio is subdued by a second wife.
Steevens.
Among the books of my friend the late Mr. William Collins of
Chichester, now dispersed, was a collection of short comick stories
in prose, printed in the black letter under the year 1570:
“sett forth by maister Richard Edwards, mayster of her Majesties
revels.” Among these tales was that of the Induction of the
Tinker in Shakspeare's Taming of the Shrew; and perhaps
Edwards's story-book was the immediate source from which
Shakspeare, or rather the author of the old Taming of a Shrew,
drew that diverting apologue. If I recollect right, the circumstances
almost tallied with an incident which Heuterus relates
from an epistle of Ludovicus Vives to have actually happened at
the marriage of Duke Philip the Good of Burgundy, about the year
1440. That perspicuous annalist, who flourished about the year
1580, says, this story was told to Vives by an old officer of the Duke's court.
T. Warton.
-- 354 --
See the earliest English original of this story, &c. at the conclusion of the play.
Steevens.
Our author's Taming of the Shrew was written, I imagine,
in 1596. See An Attempt to ascertain the Order of Shakspeare's Plays.
Malone.
-- 355 --
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
A Lord. A Person in the Induction.Christopher Sly, a drunken Tinker. A Person in the Induction.
Hostess, Page, Players, Huntsmen, and other Servants attending on the Lord. [Page], [Player 1], [Player 2], [Huntsman 1], [Huntsman 2], [Servant], [Servant 1], [Servant 2], [Servant 3], Persons in the Induction.Baptista, a rich Gentleman of Padua.
Vincentio, an old Gentleman of Pisa.
Lucentio, Son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca.
Petruchio, a Gentleman of Verona, a Suitor to Katharina.
Gremio, Suitor to Bianca.
Hortensio, Suitor to Bianca.
Tranio, Servant to Lucentio.
Biondello, Servant to Lucentio.
Grumio, Servant to Petruchio.
Curtis, Servant to Petruchio.
Pedant, an old fellow set up to personate Vincentio.Katharina [Katherina], the Shrew; Daughter to Baptista.
Bianca, her Sister; Daughter to Baptista.
Widow.Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Baptista and Petruchio.[Nathaniel], [Philip], [Joseph], [Nicholas], [Peter]SCENE, sometimes in Padua; and sometimes in
Petruchio's House in the Country.
.Wind Horns. Enter a Lord from hunting, with Huntsmen and Servants.
Lord.
Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds:
Brach Merriman,—the poor cur is emboss'd9note
,
-- 362 --
And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach.
Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good1note
-- 363 --
At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault?
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
-- 364 --
1 Hun.
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.
Lord.
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.
1 Hun.
I will, my lord.
Lord.
What's here? one dead, or drunk? See doth he breathe?
2 Hun.
He breathes, my lord: Were he not warm'd with ale,
This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.
Lord.
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,
-- 365 --
Would not the beggar then forget himself?
1 Hun.
Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.
2 Hun.
It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd.
Lord.
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 with warm distilled waters,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet:
Procure me musick 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 bason,
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 lunatick;
And, when he says he is—, say, that he dreams,
For he is nothing but a mighty lord2note
.
-- 366 --
This do, and do it kindly3note, gentle sirs;
It will be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modesty4note.
1 Hun.
My lord, I warrant you, we'll play our part,
As he shall think, by our true diligence,
He is no less than what we say he is.
Lord.
Take him up gently, and to bed with him;
And each one to his office, when he wakes.—
[Some bear out Sly. A trumpet sounds.
Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds:—
[Exit Servant.
Belike, some noble gentleman; that means,
Travelling some journey, to repose him here.—
Re-enter a Servant.
How now? who is it?
Serv.
An it please your honour,
Players that offer service to your lordship.
2 Play.
So please your lordship to accept our duty6note
.
Lord.
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.
Lord.
'Tis very true;—thou didst it excellent.—
Well, you are come to me in 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-eying of his odd behaviour,
(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.
1 Play.
Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves,
Were he the veriest antick in the world8note
Let them want nothing that my house affords.—
[Exeunt Servant and Players.
-- 371 --
Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page,
[To a Servant.
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 tongue1note
, 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 restor'd to health,
Who, for this seven years, hath esteemed him
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar2note
:
-- 372 --
And if the boy have not a woman's gift,
To rain a shower of commanded tears,
An onion3note
will do well for such a shift;
Which in a napkin being close convey'd,
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst;
Anon I'll give thee more instructions.—
[Exit Servant.
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.
1 Serv.
Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack?
2 Serv.
Will't please your honour taste of these conserves?
3 Serv.
What raiment will your honour wear today?
Sly.
I am Christophero Sly; call not me—honour,
nor lordship: I never 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 overleather.
Lord.
Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour!
O, that mighty man, of such descent,
Of such possessions, and so high esteem,
Should be infused with so foul a spirit!
Sly.
What, would you make me mad? Am not
I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-heath7note
;
-- 375 --
by birth a pedler, by education a card-maker, by
transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession
a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat alewife
of Wincot, if she know me not: if she say I
am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale8note,
score me up for the lyingest knave in Christendom.
What, I am not bestraught9note
: Here's—
-- 376 --
1 Serv.
O, this it is that makes your lady mourn.
2 Serv.
O, this it is that makes your servants droop.
Lord.
Hence comes it that your kindred shun 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 musick? hark! Apollo plays.
[Musick.
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.
1 Serv.
Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift
As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.
2 Serv.
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.
Lord.
We'll show thee Io, as she was a maid;
-- 377 --
And how she was beguiled and surpris'd,
As lively painted as the deed was done.
3 Serv.
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.
Lord.
Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:
Thou hast a lady far more beautiful
Than any woman in this waning age.
1 Serv.
And, till the tears that she hath shed for thee,
Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face,
She was the fairest creature in the world;
And yet she is inferior to none.
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 Christophero Sly.—
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.
2 Serv.
Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands?
[Servants present an ewer, bason, and napkin.
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.
Sly.
These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap.
But did I never speak of all that time?
1 Serv.
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;
, they say that I have dream'd, and slept
Above some fifteen year and more.
Page.
Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me;
Being all this time abandon'd from your bed.
Sly.
'Tis much;—Servants, leave me and her alone.—
Madam, undress you, and come now to bed6note.
-- 381 --
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.
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.
Enter a Servant.
Serv.
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.
Sly.
Marry, I will; let them play it: Is not a
commonty a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling
trick7note
?
Page.
No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff.
Sly.
What, houshold stuff?
Page.
It is a kind of history.
Sly.
Well, we'll see't: Come, madam wife, sit
by my side, and let the world slip; we shall ne'er
be younger.
[They sit down.
-- 382 --
ACT I.SCENE I.Padua. A public Place.Enter Lucentio and Tranio.
Luc.
Tranio, since—for the great desire I had
To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,—
I am arriv'd for fruitful Lombardy8note
,
The pleasant garden of great Italy;
And, by my father's love and leave, am arm'd
With his good will, and thy good company,
Most trusty servant, well approv'd in all;
Here let us breathe, and happily institute
A course of learning, and ingenious9note
studies.
Pisa, renowned for grave citizens,
Gave me my being, and my father first,
A merchant of great traffick through the world,
.
Vincentio's son2note, brought up in Florence,
It shall become, to serve all hopes conceiv'd3note,
To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds:
And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,
Virtue, and that part of philosophy4note
-- 384 --
Will I apply, that treats of happiness
By virtue 'specially to be achiev'd.
Tell me thy mind: for I have Pisa left,
And am to Padua come; as he that leaves
A shallow plash, to plunge him in the deep,
And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst.
Tra. Mi perdonate5note, gentle master mine,
I am in all affected as yourself;
Glad that you thus continue your resolve,
To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy.
Only, good master, while we do admire
This virtue, and this moral discipline,
Let's be no stoicks, nor no stocks, I pray;
Or so devote to Aristotle's checks6note
,
-- 385 --
As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd:
Talk logick7note
with acquaintance that you have,
And practise rhetorick in your common talk:
Musick and poesy use to quicken you8note
;
The mathematicks, and the metaphysicks,
Fall to them, as you find your stomach serves you:
No profit grows, where is no pleasure ta'en:—
In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
Luc.
Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise.
If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore,
We could at once put us in readiness;
And take a lodging, fit to entertain
Such friends, as time in Padua shall beget.
But stay awhile: What company is this?
Tra.
Master, some show, to welcome us to town. Enter Baptista, Katharina, Bianca, Gremio,
and Hortensio. Lucentio and Tranio stand aside.
Bap.
Gentlemen, impórtune me no further,
For how I firmly am resolv'd you know;
That is,—not to bestow my youngest daughter,
Before I have a husband for the elder:
If either of you both love Katharina,
Because I know you well, and love you well,
Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure.
Gre.
To cart her rather: She's too rough for me:—
-- 386 --
There, there Hortensio, will you any wife?
Kath.
I pray you, sir, [To Bap.] is it your will
To make a stale of me amongst these mates9note
?
Hor.
Mates, maid! how mean you that? no mates for you,
Unless you were of gentler, milder mould.
Kath.
I'faith, sir, you shall never need to fear;
I wis, it is not half way to her heart:
But, if it were, doubt not her care should be
To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool,
And paint your face, and use you like a fool.
Hor.
From all such devils, good Lord, deliver us!
Gre.
And me too, good Lord!
Tra.
Hush, master! here is some good pastime toward:
That wench is stark mad, or wonderful froward.
Luc.
But in the other's silence I do see
Maids' mild behaviour and sobriety.
Peace, Tranio.
Tra.
Well said, master; mum! and gaze your fill.
Bap.
Gentlemen, that I may soon make good
What I have said,—Bianca, get you in:
And let it not displease thee, good Bianca;
For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl.
Bian.
Sister, content you in my discontent.—
Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe;
My books, and instruments, shall be my company;
On them to look, and practise by myself.
Hor.
Signior Baptista, will you be so strange2note?
Sorry am I, that our good will effects
Bianca's grief.
Gre.
Why, will you mew her up,
Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,
And make her bear the penance of her tongue?
Bap.
Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolv'd:—
Go in, Bianca.
[Exit Bianca.
And for I know, she taketh most delight
In musick, instruments, and poetry,
Schoolmasters will I keep within my house,
Fit to instruct her youth.—If you, Hortensio,
Or signior Gremio, you,—know any such,
Prefer them hither; for to cunning men3note
I will be very kind and liberal
-- 388 --
To mine own children in good bringing-up;
And so farewell. Katharina, you may stay;
For I have more to commune with Bianca.
[Exit.
Kath.
Why, and I trust, I may go too; May I not?
What, shall I be appointed hours; as though, belike,
I knew not what to take, and what to leave? Ha! [Exit.
are so good, here is none will hold you. Their love
is not so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our
nails together, and fast it fairly out5note
; our cake's
dough on both sides. Farewell:—Yet, for the love
I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light
on a fit man, to teach her that wherein she delights,
I will wish him to her father6note
.
Hor.
So will I, signior Gremio: But a word, I
pray. Though the nature of our quarrel yet never
brook'd parle, know now, upon advice7note
, it toucheth
-- 389 --
us both,—that we may yet again have access to our
fair mistress, and be happy rivals in Bianca's love,—
to labour and effect one thing 'specially.
Gre.
What's that, I pray?
Hor.
Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister.
Gre.
A husband! a devil.
Hor.
I say, a husband.
Gre.
I say, a devil: Think'st thou, Hortensio,
though her father be very rich, any man is so very
a fool to be married to hell?
Hor.
Tush, Gremio, though it pass your patience,
and mine, to endure her loud alarums, why, man,
there be good fellows in the world, an a man could
light on them, would take her with all faults, and
money enough.
Gre.
I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her
dowry with this condition,—to be whipped at the
high-cross every morning.
Hor.
'Faith, as you say, there's small choice in
rotten apples. But, come; since this bar in law
makes us friends, it shall be so far forth friendly
maintained,—till by helping Baptista's eldest daughter
to a husband, we set his youngest free for a husband,
and then have to't afresh.—Sweet Bianca!—
Happy man be his dole8note
! He that runs fastest, gets
the ring9note. How say you, signior Gremio?
-- 390 --
Gre.
I am agreed: and 'would I had given him
the best horse in Padua to begin his wooing, that
would thoroughly woo her, wed her, and bed her,
and rid the house of her. Come on.
[Exeunt Gremio and Hortensio.
Tra. [Advancing.]
I pray, sir, tell me,—Is it possible
That love should of a sudden take such hold?
Luc.
O Tranio, till I found it to be true,
I never thought it possible, or likely;
But see! while idly I stood looking on,
I found the effect of love in idleness:
And now in plainness do confess to thee,—
That art to me as secret, and as dear,
As Anna to the Queen of Carthage was,—
Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio,
If I achieve not this young modest girl:
Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst;
Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt.
Tra.
Master, it is no time to chide you now;
Affection is not rated1note
from the heart:
If love have touch'd you, nought remains but so2note
Luc.
Gramercies, lad; go forward: this contents;
The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound.
Tra.
Master, you look'd so longly4note on the maid,
Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all.
Luc.
O yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face,
Such as the daughter of Agenor5note had,
That made great Jove to humble him to her hand,
When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand.
Tra.
Saw you no more? mark'd you not, how her sister
Began to scold; and raise up such a storm,
That mortal ears might hardly endure the din?
Luc.
Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move,
And with her breath she did perfume the air;
Sacred, and sweet, was all I saw in her.
Tra.
Nay, then, 'tis time to stir him from his trance.
I pray, awake, sir; If you love the maid,
Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it stands:—
Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd,
-- 392 --
That, till the father rid his hands of her,
Master, your love must live a maid at home;
And therefore has he closely mew'd her up,
Because she shall not be annoy'd6note with suitors.
Luc.
Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father's he!
But art thou not advis'd, he took some care
To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her?
Tra.
Ay, marry, am I, sir; and now 'tis plotted.
Luc.
I have it, Tranio.
Tra.
Master, for my hand,
Both our inventions meet and jump in one.
Luc.
Tell me thine first.
Tra.
You will be schoolmaster,
And undertake the teaching of the maid:
That's your device.
Luc.
It is: May it be done?
Tra.
Not possible; For who shall bear your part,
And be in Padua here Vincentio's son?
Keep house, and ply his book; welcome his friends;
Visit his countrymen, and banquet them?
Luc.
Basta7note; content thee; for I have it full8note
.
We have not yet been seen in any house;
Nor can we be distinguished by our faces,
For man, or master: then it follows thus;—
Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead,
Keep house, and port9note
, and servants, as I should:
-- 393 --
I will some other be; some Florentine,
Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa1note
.
'Tis hatch'd, and shall be so:—Tranio, at once
Uncase thee; take my colour'd hat and cloak:
When Biondello comes, he waits on thee;
But I will charm him first to keep his tongue.
Tra.
So had you need.
[They exchange habits.
In brief then, sir, sith it your pleasure is,
And I am tied to be obedient;
(For so your father charg'd me at our parting;
Be serviceable to my son, quoth he,
Although, I think, 'twas in another sense,)
I am content to be Lucentio,
Because so well I love Lucentio.
Luc.
Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves:
And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid
Whose sudden sight hath thrall'd my wounded eye.
Enter Biondello.
Here comes the rogue.—Sirrah, where have you been?
Bion.
Where have I been? Nay, how now, where are you?
Master, has my fellow Tranio stol'n your clothes?
Or you stol'n his? or both? pray, what's the news?
Luc.
Sirrah, come hither; 'tis no time to jest,
And therefore frame your manners to the time.
Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life,
Puts my apparel and my countenance on,
And I for my escape have put on his;
For in a quarrel, since I came ashore,
-- 394 --
I kill'd a man, and fear I was descried2note:
Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes,
While I make way from hence to save my life:
You understand me?
Bion.
I, sir? ne'er a whit.
Luc.
And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth;
Tranio is chang'd into Lucentio.
Bion.
The better for him; 'Would I were so too!
Tra.
So would I3note, 'faith, boy, to have the next wish after,—
That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest daughter.
But, sirrah,—not for my sake, but your master's,—I advise
You use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies:
When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio;
But in all places else, your master4note Lucentio.
Luc.
Tranio, let's go:—
One thing more rests, that thyself execute;—
To make one among these wooers: If thou ask me why,—
Sufficeth, my reasons are both good and weighty5note. [Exeunt6note.
-- 395 --
1 Serv. My lord, you nod; you do not mind the play.
Sly.
Yes, by saint Anne, do I. A good matter,
surely; comes there any more of it?
Page.
My lord, 'tis but begun.
Sly.
'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam
lady; 'Would't were done!
SCENE II.The same. Before Hortensio's House.
Enter Petruchio and Grumio.
Pet.
Verona, for a while I take my leave,
To see my friends in Padua; but, of all,
My best beloved and approved friend,
Hortensio; and, I trow, this is his house:—
Here, sirrah Grumio; knock, I say.
Gru.
Knock, sir! whom should I knock? is there
any man has rebused your worship7note?
Pet.
Villain, I say, knock me here soundly.
Gru.
Knock you here8note, sir? why, sir, what am I,
sir, that I should knock you here, sir?
Pet.
Villain, I say, knock me at this gate,
And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate.
Gru.
My master is grown quarrelsome: I should knock you first,
And then I know after who comes by the worst.
-- 396 --
Pet.
Will it not be?
'Faith, sirrah, an you'll not knock, I'll wring it9note;
I'll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it. [He wrings Grumio by the ears.
leave his service,—Look you, sir,—he bid me knock
him, and rap him soundly, sir: Well, was it fit for
a servant to use his master so; being, perhaps, (for
aught I see,) two and thirty,—a pip out4note?
Whom, 'would to God, I had well knock'd at first,
Then had not Grumio come by the worst.
Pet.
A senseless villain!—Good Hortensio,
I bade the rascal knock upon your gate,
And could not get him for my heart to do it.
Gru.
Knock at the gate?—O heavens!
Spake you not these words plain,—Sirrah, knock me here,
Rap me here, knock me well, and knock me soundly5note
?
And come you now with—knocking at the gate?
Pet.
Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you.
Hor.
Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio's pledge:
-- 398 --
Why, this a heavy chance 'twixt him and you6note
;
Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio.
And tell me now, sweet friend,—what happy gale
Blows you to Padua here, from old Verona?
Pet.
Such wind as scatters young men through the world,
To seek their fortunes further than at home,
Where small experience grows. But, in a few7note
,
Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me:—
Antonio, my father, is deceas'd;
And I have thrust myself into this maze,
Haply to wive, and thrive, as best I may:
Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home,
And so am come abroad to see the world.
Hor.
Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee,
And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife?
Thoud'st thank me but a little for my counsel:
And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich,
And very rich:—but thou'rt too much my friend,
And I'll not wish thee to her.
Pet.
Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as we,
Few words suffice: and, therefore, if thou know
One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife,
(As wealth is burthen of my wooing dance8note)
Be she as foul as was Florentius' love9note
,
-- 399 --
As old as Sybil, and as curst and shrewd
As Socrates' Xantippe, or a worse,
She moves me not, or not removes, at least,
-- 400 --
Affection's edge in me: were she as rough1note
As are the swelling Adriatick seas:
I come to wive it wealthily in Padua;
If wealthily, then happily in Padua.
Gru.
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 aglet-baby2note
; or an old trot
with ne'er a tooth in her head, though she have as
many diseases as two and fifty horses3note; why, nothing
comes amiss, so money comes withal.
Hor.
Petruchio, since we have stepp'd thus far in,
I will continue that I broach'd in jest.
I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife
With wealth enough, and young, and beauteous;
Brought up, as best becomes a gentlewoman:
Her only fault (and that is faults enough4note,)
Is,—that she is intolerably curst,
And shrewd5note
, and froward; so beyond all measure,
-- 401 --
That, were my state far worser than it is,
I would not wed her for a mine of gold.
Pet.
Hortensio, peace; thou know'st not gold's effect:—
Tell me her father's name, and 'tis enough;
For I will board her, though she chide as loud
As thunder, when the clouds in autumn crack.
Hor.
Her father is Baptista Minola,
An affable and courteous gentleman:
Her name is Katharina Minola,
Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue.
Pet.
I know her father, though I know not her;
And he knew my deceased father well;—
I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her;
And therefore let me be thus bold with you,
To give you over at this first encounter,
Unless you will accompany me thither.
Gru.
I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour
lasts. O' my word, an she knew him as well as I
do, she would think scolding would do little good
upon him: She may, perhaps, call him half a score
knaves, or so: why, that's nothing; an he begin
once, he'll rail in his rope-tricks6note
. I'll tell you
-- 402 --
what, sir,—an she stand him7note but a little, he will
throw a figure in her face, and so disfigure her with
it, that she shall have no more eyes to see withal
than a cat8note
: You know him not, sir.
Hor.
Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee;
For in Baptista's keep9note
my treasure is:
-- 403 --
He hath the jewel of my life in hold,
His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca;
And her withholds from me, and other more
Suitors to her, and rivals in my love1note
:
Supposing it a thing impossible,
(For those defects I have before rehears'd,)
That ever Katharina will be woo'd,
Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en2note
;—
That none shall have access unto Bianca,
Till Katharine the curst have got a husband.
Gru.
Katherine the curst!
A title for a maid, of all titles the worst.
Hor.
Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace;
And offer me, disguis'd in sober robes,
To old Baptista as a school master
Well seen in music3note
, to instruct Bianca:
That so I may by this device, at least,
-- 404 --
Have leave and leisure to make love to her,
And, unsuspected, court her by herself.
Enter Gremio; with him Lucentio disguised, with
books under his arm.
Gru.
Here's no knavery! See; to beguile the
old folks, how the young folks lay their heads together!
Master, master, look about you: Who goes
there? ha!
Hor.
Peace, Grumio; 'tis the rival of my love:—
Petruchio, stand by a while.
Gru.
A proper stripling, and an amorous! [They retire.
Gre.
O, very well; I have perus'd the note.
Hark you, sir; I'll have them very fairly bound:
All books of love, see that at any hand4note
;
And see you read no other lectures to her:
You understand me:—Over and beside
Signior Baptista's liberality,
I'll mend it with a largess:—Take your papers too,
And let me have them very well perfum'd;
For she is sweeter than perfume itself,
To whom they go5note. What will you read to her?
Luc.
Whate'er I read to her, I'll plead for you,
As for my patron, (stand you so assur'd,)
As firmly as yourself were still in place:
Yea, and (perhaps) with more successful words
Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir.
Gre.
O this learning! what a thing it is!
Gru.
O this woodcock! what an ass it is!
Pet.
Peace, sirrah.
-- 405 --
Hor.
Grumio, mum!—God save you, signior Gremio!
Gre.
And you're well met, signior Hortensio. Trow you,
Whither I am going?—To Baptista Minola.
I promis'd to enquire carefully
About a schoolmaster for fair Bianca6note:
And, by good fortune, I have lighted well
On this young man; for learning, and behaviour,
Fit for her turn; well read in poetry,
And other books,—good ones, I warrant you.
Hor.
'Tis well: and I have met a gentleman,
Hath promis'd me to help me7note
to another,
A fine musician to instruct our mistress;
So shall I no whit be behind in duty
To fair Bianca, so belov'd of me.
Gre.
Belov'd of me,—and that my deeds shall prove.
Gru.
And that his bags shall prove. [Aside.
Hor.
Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love:
Listen to me, and if you speak me fair,
I'll tell you news indifferent good for either.
Here is a gentleman, whom by chance I met,
Upon agreement from us to his liking,
Will undertake to woo curst Katharine;
Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please.
Gre.
So said, so done, is well:—
Hortensio, have you told him all her faults?
Pet.
I know, she is an irksome brawling scold;
If that be all, masters, I hear no harm.
My father dead, my fortune lives for me;
And I do hope good days, and long, to see.
Gre.
O, sir, such a life, with such a wife, were strange:
But if you have a stomach, to't o'God's name;
You shall have me assisting you in all.
But will you woo this wild cat?
Pet.
Will I live?
Gru.
Will he woo her? ay, or I'll hang her. [Aside.
Pet.
Why came I hither, but to that intent?
Think you, a little din can daunt mine ears?
Have I not in my time heard lions roar?
Have I not heard the sea, puff'd up with winds,
Rage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat?
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?
Have I not in a pitched battle heard
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang9note
?
-- 407 --
And do you tell me of a woman's tongue;
That gives not half so great a blow to the ear1note
,
As will a chesnut in a farmer's fire?
Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs2note
.
Gru.
For he fears none. [Aside.
Gre.
Hortensio, hark!
This gentleman is happily arriv'd,
My mind presumes, for his own good, and yours.
Hor.
I promis'd, we would be contributors,
And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe'er.
Gre.
And so we will; provided, that he win her.
Gru.
I would, I were as sure of a good dinner. [Aside.Enter Tranio, bravely apparell'd; and Biondello.
Tra.
Gentlemen, God save you! If I may be bold,
Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way
To the house of signior Baptista Minola?
Bion.
He that has the two fair daughters:—is't [Aside to Tranio,] he you mean3note
Gre.
Hark you, sir; You mean not her to&wblank;5note
Tra.
Perhaps, him and her, sir; What have you to do?
Pet.
Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray.
Tra.
I love no chiders, sir:—Biondello, let's away.
Luc.
Well begun, Tranio. [Aside.
Hor.
Sir, a word ere you go;—
Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea, or no?
Tra.
An if I be, sir, is it any offence?
Gre.
No; if, without more words, you will get you hence.
Tra.
Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free
For me, as for you?
Gre.
But so is not she.
Tra.
For what reason, I beseech you?
Gre.
For this reason, if you'll know,—
That she's the choice love of signior Gremio.
Hor.
That she's the chosen of signior Hortensio.
Tra.
Softly, my masters! if you be gentlemen,
-- 409 --
Do me this right,—hear me with patience.
Baptista is a noble gentleman,
To whom my father is not all unknown;
And, were his daughter fairer than she is,
She may more suitors have, and me for one.
Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers;
Then well one more may fair Bianca have:
And so she shall; Lucentio shall make one,
Though Paris came, in hope to speed alone.
Gre.
What! this gentleman will out-talk us all.
Luc.
Sir, give him head; I know, he'll prove a jade.
Pet.
Hortensio, to what end are all these words?
Hor.
Sir, let me be so bold as ask you,
Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter?
Tra.
No, sir; but hear I do, that he hath two;
The one as famous for a scolding tongue,
As is the other for beauteous modesty.
Pet.
Sir, sir, the first's for me; let her go by.
Gre.
Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules;
And let it be more than Alcides' twelve.
Pet.
Sir, understand you this of me, insooth;—
The youngest daughter, whom you hearken for,
Her father keeps from all access of suitors;
And will not promise her to any man,
Until the elder sister first be wed:
The younger then is free, and not before.
Tra.
If it be so, sir, that you are the man
Must stead us all, and me among the rest;
An if you break the ice, and do this feat6note,
Achieve the elder, set the younger free
For our access,—whose hap shall be to have her,
Will not so graceless be, to be ingrate.
Hor.
Sir, you say well, and well you do conceive;
And since you do profess to be a suitor,
-- 410 --
You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman,
To whom we all rest generally beholden.
Tra.
Sir, I shall not be slack: in sign whereof,
Please ye we may contrive this afternoon5note
,
And quaff carouses to our mistress health;
And do as adversaries do in law6note,—
Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.
Gru., Bion.
O excellent motion! Fellows, let's begone7note.
Hor.
The motion's good indeed, and be it so;—
Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto. [Exeunt.
-- 411 --
ACT II.SCENE I.The same. A Room in Baptista's House.
Enter Katharina and Bianca.
Bian.
Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself8note
To make a bondmaid and a slave of me;
That I disdain: but for these other gawds9note
,
Unbind my hands, I'll put them off myself,
Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat;
Or, what you will command me, will I do,
So well I know my duty to my elders.
Kath.
Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee1note, tell
Whom thou lov'st best: see thou dissemble not.
Bian.
Believe me, sister, of all the men alive,
I never yet beheld that special face
Which I could fancy more than any other.
Kath.
Minion, thou liest; Is't not Hortensio?
Bian.
If you affect him, sister, here I swear,
I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have him.
Kath.
O then, belike, you fancy riches more;
You will have Gremio to keep you fair2note.
Bian.
Is it for him you do envy me so?
-- 412 --
Nay, then you jest; and now I well perceive,
You have but jested with me all this while:
I pr'ythee, sister Kate, untie my hands.
Kath.
If that be jest, then all the rest was so. [Strikes her.Enter Baptista.
Bap.
Why, how now, dame! whence grows this insolence?—
Bianca, stand aside;—poor girl! she weeps:—
Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her.—
For shame, thou hilding3note of a devilish spirit,
Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee?
When did she cross thee with a bitter word?
Kath.
Her silence flouts me, and I'll be reveng'd. [Flies after Bianca.
Bap.
What, in my sight?—Bianca, get thee in. [Exit Bianca.
Kath.
Will you not suffer me4note? Nay, now I see,
She is your treasure, she must have a husband;
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding-day,
And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell5note
.
Talk not to me; I will go sit and weep,
Till I can find occasion of revenge.
[Exit Katharina.
-- 413 --
Bap.
Was ever gentleman thus griev'd as I?
But who comes here? Enter Gremio, with Lucentio in the habit of a
mean man; Petruchio, with Hortensio as a
Musician; and Tranio, with Biondello bearing a lute and books.
Gre.
Good-morrow, neighbour Baptista.
Bap.
Good-morrow, neighbour Gremio: God
save you, gentlemen!
Pet.
And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter
Call'd Katharina, fair, and virtuous?
Bap.
I have a daughter, sir, call'd Katharina.
Gre.
You are too blunt, go to it orderly.
Pet.
You wrong me, signior Gremio; give me leave.—
I am a gentleman of Verona, sir,
That,—hearing of her beauty, and her wit,
Her affability, and bashful modesty,
Her wondrous qualities, and mild behaviour,—
Am bold to show myself a forward guest
Within your house, to make mine eye the witness
Of that report which I so oft have heard.
And, for an entrance to my entertainment,
I do present you with a man of mine,
[Presenting Hortensio,
Cunning in musick, and the mathematicks,
To instruct her fully in those sciences,
Whereof, I know, she is not ignorant:
Accept of him, or else you do me wrong;
His name is Licio, born in Mantua.
Bap.
You're welcome, sir; and he, for your good sake:
But for my daughter Katharine,—this I know,
She is not for your turn, the more my grief.
Pet.
I see, you do not mean to part with her;
-- 414 --
Or else you like not of my company.
Bap.
Mistake me not, I speak but as I find.
Whence are you, sir? what may I call your name?
Pet.
Petruchio is my name; Antonio's son,
A man well known throughout all Italy.
Bap.
I know him well: you are welcome for his sake.
Gre.
Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,
Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too:
Baccare! you are marvellous forward6note
.
Pet.
O, pardon me, signor Gremio; I would fain be doing.
Gre.
I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your wooing.—
of it. To express the like kindness myself, that
have been more kindly beholden to you than any,
I freely give unto you this young scholar9note
, [Presenting
Lucentio,] that hath been long studying at
Rheims; as cunning in Greek, Latin, and other
languages, as the other in musick and mathematicks:
his name is Cambio; pray, accept his service.
Bap.
A thousand thanks, signior Gremio: welcome,
good Cambio.—But, gentle sir,[To Tranio,]
methinks, you walk like a stranger; May I be so
bold to know the cause of your coming?
Tra.
Pardon me sir, the boldness is mine own;
That, being a stranger in this city here,
Do make myself a suitor to your daughter,
Unto Bianca, fair, and virtuous.
Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me,
In the preferment of the eldest sister:
This liberty is all that I request,—
-- 416 --
That, upon knowledge of my parentage,
I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo,
And free access and favour as the rest.
And, toward the education of your daughters,
I here bestow a simple instrument,
And this small packet of Greek and Latin books1note:
If you accept them, then their worth is great.
Bap.
Lucentio is your name2note? of whence, I pray?
Tra.
Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio.
Bap.
A mighty man of Pisa, by report;
I know him well3note
: you are very welcome, sir.—
-- 417 --
Take you [To Hor.] the lute, and you [To Luc.] the set of books,
You shall go see your pupils presently.
Holla, within!
Enter a Servant.
Sirrah, lead these gentlemen
To my daughters; and tell them both4note
,
These are their tutors; bid them use them well.
[Exit Servant, with Hortensio, Lucentio, and Biondello.
We will go walk a little in the orchard,
And then to dinner: You are passing welcome,
And so I pray you all to think yourselves.
Pet.
Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,
And every day I cannot come to woo5note
.
You knew my father well; and in him, me,
Left solely heir to all his lands and goods,
Which I have better'd rather than decreas'd:
Then tell me,—if I get your daughter's love,
What dowry shall I have with her to wife?
Bap.
After my death, the one half of my lands:
And, in possession, twenty thousand crowns.
,—be it that she survive me,—
In all my lands and leases whatsoever:
Let specialties be therefore drawn between us,
That covenants may be kept on either hand.
Bap.
Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd,
This is,—her love; for that is all in all.
Pet.
Why, that is nothing; for I tell you, father,
I am as peremptory as she proud-minded;
And where two raging fires meet together,
They do consume the thing that feeds their fury:
Though little fire grows great with little wind,
Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all:
So I to her, and so she yields to me;
For I am rough, and woo not like a babe.
Bap.
Well may'st thou woo, and happy be thy speed!
But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words.
Pet.
Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds,
That shake not, though they blow perpetually. Re-enter Hortensio, with his head broken.
Bap.
How now, my friend? why dost thou look so pale?
Hor.
For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.
Bap.
What, will my daughter prove a good musician?
Hor.
I think, she'll sooner prove a soldier;
Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.
Bap.
Why, then thou can'st not break her to the lute?
-- 419 --
Hor.
Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me.
I did but tell her, she mistook her frets7note,
And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering;
When, with a most impatient devilish spirit,
Frets, call you these? quoth she: I'll fume with them:
And, with that word, she struck me on the head,
And through the instrument my pate made way;
And there I stood amazed for a while,
As on a pillory, looking through the lute;
While she did call me,—rascal fiddler,
And—twangling Jack8note
; with twenty such vile terms,
As she had9note studied to misuse me so.
Pet.
Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench;
I love her ten times more than e'er I did:
O, how I long to have some chat with her!
Bap.
Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited:
Proceed in practice with my younger daughter;
She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns.—
Signior Petruchio, will you go with us;—
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?
-- 420 --
Pet.
I pray you do; I will attend her here,—
[Exeunt Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, and Hortensio.
And woo her with some spirit when she comes.
Say, that she rail; Why, then I'll tell her plain,
She sings as sweetly as a nightingale:
Say, that she frown; I'll say, she looks as clear
As morning roses newly wash'd with dew1note
:
Say, she be mute, and will not speak a word;
Then I'll commend her volubility,
And say—she uttereth piercing eloquence:
If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks,
As though she bid me stay by her a week;
If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day
When I shall ask the banns, and when be married:—
But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak.
Enter Katharina.
Good-morrow, Kate2note
; for that's your name, I hear.
-- 421 --
Kath.
Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing3note;
They call me—Katharine, that do talk of me.
Pet.
You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain Kate,
And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst;
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,
Kate of Kate-Hall, my super-dainty Kate,
For dainties are all cates: and therefore, Kate,
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation;—
Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,
(Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,)
-- 422 --
Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife.
Kath.
Mov'd! in good time: let him that mov'd you hither,
Remove you hence: I knew you at the first,
You were a moveable.
Pet.
Alas, good Kate! I will not burden thee:
For, knowing thee to be but young and light,—
Kath.
Too light for such a swain as you to catch;
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.
Pet.
Should be? should buz.
Kath.
Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.
Pet.
O slow-wing'd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee?
Kath.
Ay, for a turtle; as he takes a buzzard6note
.
-- 423 --
Pet.
Come, come, you wasp; i'faith, you are too angry.
Kath.
If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
Pet.
My remedy is then, to pluck it out.
Kath.
Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies.
Pet.
Who knows not where a wasp doth wear his sting?
In his tail.
Kath.
In his tongue.
Pet.
Whose tongue?
Kath.
Yours, if you talk of tails; and so farewell.
Pet.
What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again,
Good Kate; I am a gentleman.
Kath.
That I'll try. [Striking him.
Pet.
I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again.
Kath.
So may you lose your arms:
If you strike me, you are no gentleman;
And if no gentleman, why, then no arms.
Pet.
A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books.
Kath.
What is your crest? a coxcomb?
Pet.
A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.
Kath.
No cock of mine, you crow too like a craven7note
.
Pet.
Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour.
-- 424 --
Kath.
It is my fashion, when I see a crab.
Pet.
Why, here's no crab; and therefore look not sour.
Kath.
There is, there is.
Pet.
Then show it me.
Kath.
Had I a glass, I would.
Pet.
What, you mean my face?
Kath.
Well aim'd of such a young one.
Pet.
Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.
Kath.
Yet you are wither'd.
Pet.
'Tis with cares.
Kath.
I care not.
Pet.
Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth, you 'scape not so.
Kath.
I chafe you, if I tarry; let me go.
Pet.
No, not a whit; I find you passing gentle.
'Twas told me, you were rough, and coy, and sullen,
And now I find report a very liar;
For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous;
But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers:
Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance,
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will;
Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk;
But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers,
With gentle conference, soft and affable.
Why does the world report, that Kate doth limp?
O slanderous world! Kate, like the hazle-twig,
Is straight, and slender; and as brown in hue
As hazle nuts, and sweeter than the kernels.
O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt.
Kath.
Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command8note.
-- 425 --
Pet.
Did ever Dian so become a grove,
As Kate this chamber with her princely gait?
O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate;
And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportful!
Pet.
Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, in thy bed:
And therefore, setting all this chat aside,
Thus in plain terms:—Your father hath consented
That you shall be my wife; your dowry 'greed on;
And, will you, nill you1note
, I will marry you.
Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn;
For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty,
(Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well,)
Thou must be married to no man but me:
For I am he, am born to tame you, Kate;
And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate2note
-- 426 --
Conformable, as other houshold Kates.
Here comes your father; never make denial;
I must and will have Katharine to my wife.
Re-enter Baptista, Gremio, and Tranio.
Bap.
Now,
Signior Petruchio: how speed you with
My daughter?
Pet.
How but well, sir? how but well?
It were impossible, I should speed amiss.
Bap.
Why, how now, daughter Katharine? in your dumps?
Kath.
Call you me, daughter? now I promise you,
You have show'd a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one half lunatick;
A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Jack,
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.
Pet.
Father, 'tis thus,—yourself and all the world,
That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her;
If she be curst, it is for policy:
For she's not froward, but modest as the dove;
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;
For patience she will prove a second Grissel3note
;
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity:
And to conclude,—we have 'greed so well together,
That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.
-- 427 --
Kath.
I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first.
Gre.
Hark, Petruchio! she says, she'll see thee hang'd first.
Tra.
Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night our part!
Pet.
Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for myself;
If she and I be pleas'd, what's that to you?
'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
That she shall still be curst in company.
I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe
How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate!—
She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss
She vied so fast4note
, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twink she won me to her love.
O, you are novices! 'tis a world to see5note,
-- 428 --
How tame, when men and women are alone,
A meacock wretch6note
can make the curstest shrew.—
Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day:—
Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests;
I will be sure, my Katharine shall be fine.
Bap.
I know not what to say: but give me your hands;
God send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match.
Gre. Tra.
Amen, say we; we will be witnesses.
Pet.
Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu;
I will to Venice, Sunday comes apace:—
We will have rings, and things, and fine array;
And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o'Sunday. [Exeunt Petruchio and Katharine, severally.
Gre.
Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly?
Bap.
Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part,
And venture madly on a desperate mart.
Tra.
'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you:
'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.
Gre.
No doubt, but he hath got a quiet catch.
But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter;—
Now is the day we long have looked for;
I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.
-- 429 --
Tra.
And I am one, that love Bianca more
Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.
Bap.
Content you, gentlemen; I'll compound this strife:
'Tis deeds, must win the prize; and he, of both,
That can assure my daughter greatest dower,
Shall have Bianca's love.—
Say, signior Gremio, what can you assure her?
Gre.
First, as you know, my house within the city
Is richly furnished with plate and gold;
Basons, and ewers, to lave her dainty hands;
-- 430 --
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry:
In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns;
In cypress chests my arras, counterpoints9note
,
Fine linen, Turky cushions boss d with pearl,
Valance of Venice gold in needle-work,
Pewter2note and brass, and all things that belong
-- 431 --
To house, or housekeeping: then, at my farm,
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls,
And all things answerable to this portion.
Myself am struck in years, I must confess;
And, if I die to-morrow, this is hers,
If, whilst I live, she will be only mine.
Tra.
That, only, came well in—Sir, list to me,
I am my father's heir, and only son:
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
I'll leave her houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
Old signior Gremio has in Padua;
Besides two thousand ducats by the year,
Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure.—
What, have I pinch'd you, signior Gremio?
Gre.
Two thousand ducats by the year, of land!
My land amounts not to so much in all:
That she shall have; besides3note
an argosy,
-- 432 --
That now is lying in Marseilles' road:—
What, have I chok'd you with an argosy?
Tra.
Gremio, 'tis known, my father hath no less
Than three great argosies; besides two galliasses4note
,
And twelve tight gallies: these I will assure her,
And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next.
Gre.
Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more;
And she can have no more than all I have;—
If you like me, she shall have me and mine.
Tra.
Why, then the maid is mine from all the world,
By your firm promise; Gremio is out-vied5note
.
Bap.
I must confess, your offer is the best;
And, let your father make her the assurance,
She is your own; else, you must pardon me:
If you should die before him, where's her dower?
Tra.
That's but a cavil; he is old, I young.
Gre.
And may not young men die, as well as old?
Bap.
Well, gentlemen,
I am thus resolv'd:—On Sunday next you know,
My daughter Katharine is to be married:
-- 433 --
Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca
Be bride to you, if you make this assurance;
If not, to signior Gremio:
And so I take my leave, and thank you both.
[Exit.
Gre.
Adieu, good neighbour.—Now I fear thee not;
Sirrah, young gamester6note
, your father were a fool
To give thee all, and, in his waning age,
Set foot under thy table: Tut! a toy!
An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. [Exit.
Tra.
A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide!
Yet I have faced it with a card of ten7note
.
-- 434 --
'Tis in my head to do my master good:—
I see no reason, but suppos d Lucentio
Must get a father, call'd—suppos'd Vincentio;
And that's a wonder: fathers, commonly,
Do get their children; but, in this case of wooing,
A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning8note
. [Exit.
-- 435 --
ACT III.SCENE I.A Room in Baptista's House.
Enter Lucentio, Hortensio, and Bianca.
Luc.
Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir:
Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
Her sister Katharine welcom d you withal?
The patroness of heavenly harmony:
Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in musick we have spent an hour,
Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.
Luc.
Preposterous ass! that never read so far
To know the cause why musick was ordain'd!
Was it not to refresh the mind of man,
After his studies, or his usual pain?
Then give me leave to read philosophy,
-- 436 --
And, while I pause, serve in your harmony.
Hor.
Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.
Bian.
Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong,
To strive for that which resteth in my choice:
I am no breeching scholar9note
in the schools;
I'll not be tied to hours, nor 'pointed times,
But learn my lessons as I please myself.
And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down:—
Take you your instrument, play you the whiles;
His lecture will be done, ere you have tun'd.
Hor.
You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune? [To Bianca.—Hortensio retires.
Luc.
That will be never;—tune your instrument.
Bian.
Where left we last?
Luc.
Here, madam:—
Hac ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus; Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.
Bian.
Construe them.
Luc.
Hac ibat, as I told you before1note,—Simois, I
am Lucentio,—hic est, son unto Vincentio of Pisa,—
Sigeia tellus, disguised thus to get your love;—Hic
steterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing,—
-- 437 --
Priami, is my man Tranio, regia, bearing my port,—
celsa senis, that we might beguile the old pantaloon2note.
Hor.
Madam, my instrument's in tune. [Returning.
Bian.
Let's hear;—
[Hortensio plays.
O fye! the treble jars.
Luc.
Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.
Bian.
Now let me see if I can construe it: Hac
ibat Simois, I know you not;—hic est Sigeia tellus,
I trust you not;—Hic steterat Priami, take heed
he hear us not;—regia, presume not;—celsa senis,
despair not.
Hor.
Madam, 'tis now in tune.
Luc.
All but the base.
Hor.
The base is right; 'tis the base knave that jars.
How fiery and forward our pedant is!
Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love:
Pedascule3note
Luc.
Mistrust it not; for, sure, Æacides
Was Ajax5note
,—call'd so from his grandfather.
-- 438 --
Bian.
I must believe my master; else, I promise you,
I should be arguing still upon that doubt:
But let it rest.—Now, Licio, to you:—
Good masters6note, take it not unkindly, pray,
That I have been thus pleasant with you both.
Hor.
You may go walk, [To Lucentio,] and give me leave awhile;
My lessons make no musick in three parts.
Luc.
Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait,
And watch withal: for, but I be deceiv'd7note,
Our fine musician groweth amorous. [Aside.
Hor.
Madam, before you touch the instrument,
To learn the order of my fingering,
I must begin with rudiments of art;
To teach you gamut in a briefer sort,
More pleasant, pithy, and effectual,
Than hath been taught by any of my trade:
And there it is in writing, fairly drawn.
Bian.
Why, I am past my gamut long ago.
Hor.
Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.
Bian. [Reads.]
Gamut I am, the ground of all accord,
A re, to plead Hortensio's passion;
B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord,
C faut, that loves with all affection:
D sol re, one cliff, two notes have I:
E la mi, show pity, or I die.
Call you this—gamut? tut! I like it not:
Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice,
To change true rules for odd inventions8note
Serv.
Mistress, your father prays you leave your books,
And help to dress your sister's chamber up;
You know, to-morrow is the wedding-day.
Bian.
Farewell, sweet masters, both; I must be gone. [Exeunt Bianca and Servant.
Luc.
'Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. [Exit.
Hor.
But I have cause to pry into this pedant;
Methinks, he looks as though he were in love:—
Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble,
To cast thy wand'ring eyes on every stale,
Seize thee, that list: If once I find thee ranging,
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. [Exit.SCENE II.The same. Before Baptista's House.
Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Katharine,
Bianca, Lucentio, and Attendants.
Bap.
Signior Lucentio, [To Tranio,] this is the 'pointed day
-- 440 --
That Katharine and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we hear not of our son-in-law:
What will be said? what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom, when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage?
What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?
Kath.
No shame but mine: I must, forsooth, be forc'd
To give my hand, oppos'd against my heart,
Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen9note
;
Who woo'd in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
I told you, I, he was a frantick fool,
Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour:
And, to be noted for a merry man,
He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage,
Make friends, invite them, and proclaim the banns1note
;
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
Now must the world point at poor Katharine,
And say,—Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her.
Tra.
Patience, good Katharine, and Baptista too;
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
Whatever fortune stays him from his word:
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise;
Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.
Kath.
'Would Katharine had never seen him though! [Exit, weeping, followed by Bianca, and others.
Bap.
Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep;
-- 441 --
For such an injury would vex a very saint2note,
Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour3note.
Enter Biondello.
Bion.
Master, master! news, old news4note, and
such news as you never heard of!
Bap.
Is it new and old too? How may that be?
Bion.
Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio's
coming?
Bap.
Is he come?
Bion.
Why, no, sir.
Bap.
What then?
Bion.
He is coming.
Bap.
When will he be here?
Bion.
When he stands where I am, and sees you there.
Tra.
But, say, what:—To thine old news.
Bion.
Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new hat,
and an old jerkin; a pair of old breeches, thrice
turned; a pair of boots that have been candle-cases,
one buckled, another laced; an old rusty sword ta'en
out of the town armory, with a broken hilt, and
chapeless; with two broken points5note
: His horse
-- 442 --
hipped with an old mothy saddle, the stirrups of no
kindred6note: besides, possessed with the glanders, and
like to mose in the chine; troubled with the
lampass, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls,
sped with spavins, raied with the yellows, past
cure of the fives7note
, and
shoulder-shotten; ne'er-legged before9note, and with a
half-checked bit, and a head-stall of sheep's leather;
which, being restrained to keep him from
stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repaired
with knots: one girt six times pieced, and a woman's
crupper of velure1note
, which hath two letters for her
name, fairly set down in studs, and here and there
pieced with packthread.
Bap.
Who comes with him?
Bion.
O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned
like the horse; with a linen stock2note on
one leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered
with a red and blue list; an old hat, and The
humour of forty fancies pricked in't for a feather3note
:
-- 444 --
a monster, a very monster in apparel; and not like
a christian footboy, or a gentleman's lackey.
-- 445 --
Tra.
'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion;—
Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell'd.
Bap.
I am glad he is come, howsoe er he comes.
Bion.
Why, sir, he comes not.
Bap.
Didst thou not say, he comes?
Bion.
Who? that Petruchio came?
Bap.
Ay, that Petruchio came.
Bion.
No, sir; I say, his horse comes with him
on his back.
Bap.
Why, that's all one.
Bion.
Nay, by Saint Jamy, I hold you a penny,
A horse and a man is more than one, and yet not many. Enter Petruchio and Grumio4note
.
Pet.
Come, where be these gallants? who is at home?
-- 446 --
Bap.
You are welcome, sir.
Pet.
And yet I come not well.
Bap.
And yet you halt not.
Tra.
Not so well apparell'd
As I wish you were.
Pet.
Were it better I should rush in thus.
But where is Kate? where is my lovely bride?—
How does my father?—Gentles, methinks you frown:
And wherefore gaze this goodly company;
As if they saw some wondrous monument,
Some comet, or unusual prodigy?
Bap.
Why, sir, you know, this is your wedding-day:
First were we sad, fearing you would not come;
Now sadder, that you come so unprovided.
Fye! doff this habit, shame to your estate,
An eye-sore to our solemn festival.
Tra.
And tell us, what occasion of import
-- 447 --
Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife,
And sent you hither so unlike yourself?
Pet.
Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear:
Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word,
Though in some part enforced to digress5note;
Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse
As you shall well be satisfied withal.
But, where is Kate? I stay too long from her;
The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church.
Tra.
See not your bride in these unreverent robes;
Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine.
Pet.
Not I, believe me; thus I'll visit her.
Bap.
But thus, I trust, you will not marry her.
Pet.
Good sooth, even thus; therefore have done with words;
To me she's married, not unto my clothes:
Could I repair what she will wear in me,
As I can change these poor accoutrements,
'Twere well for Kate, and better for myself.
But what a fool am I, to chat with you,
When I should bid good-morrow to my bride,
And seal the title with a lovely kiss? [Exeunt Petruchio, Grumio, and Biondello.
Tra.
He hath some meaning in his mad attire:
We will persuade him, be it possible,
To put on better ere he go to church.
Bap.
I'll after him, and see the event of this. [Exit.
Her father's liking: Which to bring to pass,
As I before imparted7note
to your worship,
I am to get a man,—whate'er he be,
It skills not much; we'll fit him to our turn,—
And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa;
And make assurance, here in Padua,
Of greater sums than I have promised.
So shall you quietly enjoy your hope,
And marry sweet Bianca with consent.
Luc.
Were it not that my fellow schoolmaster
Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly,
'Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage;
Which once perform'd, let all the world say—no,
I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world.
Tra.
That by degrees we mean to look into,
And watch our vantage in this business:
-- 449 --
We'll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio;
The narrow-prying father, Minola;
The quaint musician, amorous Licio;
All for my master's sake, Lucentio.—
Re-enter Gremio.
Signior Gremio! came you from the church?
Gre.
As willingly as e'er I came from school8note.
Tra.
And is the bride and bridegroom coming home?
Gre.
A bridegroom say you? 'tis a groom indeed,
A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find.
Tra.
Curster than she? why, 'tis impossible.
Gre.
Why, he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend.
Tra.
Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam.
Gre.
Tut! she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him.
I'll tell you, sir Lucentio; When the priest
Should ask—if Katharine should be his wife,
Ay, by gogs-wouns, quoth he; and swore so loud,
That, all amaz'd, the priest let fall the book:
And, as he stoop'd again to take it up,
The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff,
That down fell priest and book, and book and priest;
Now take them up, quoth he, if any list.
Tra.
What said the wench, when he arose again?
Gre.
Trembled and shook; for why, he stamp'd, and swore,
As if the vicar meant to cozen him.
But after many ceremonies done,
He calls for wine:—A health, quoth he; as if
He had been aboard, carousing to his mates
After a storm:—Quaff'd off the muscadel9note
,
-- 450 --
And threw the sops all in the sexton's face;
Having no other reason,—
-- 451 --
But that his beard grew thin and hungerly,
And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking.
This done, he took the bride about the neck;
And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack,
That, at the parting, all the church did echo1note
.
And I, seeing this2note, came thence for very shame;
-- 452 --
And after me, I know, the rout is coming:
Such a mad marriage never was before;
Hark, hark! I hear the minstrels play.
[Musick.Enter Petruchio, Katharina, Bianca, Baptista,
Hortensio, Grumio, and Train.
Pet.
Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains:
I know, you think to dine with me to-day,
And have prepar'd great store of wedding cheer;
But so it is, my haste doth call me hence,
And therefore here I mean to take my leave.
Bap.
Is't possible, you will away to-night?
Pet.
I must away to-day, before night come:—
Make it no wonder; if you knew my business,
You would entreat me rather go than stay.
And, honest company, I thank you all,
That have beheld me give away myself
To this most patient, sweet, and virtuous wife:
Dine with my father, drink a health to me;
For I must hence, and farewell to you all.
Ay, sir, they be ready; the oats have eaten
the horse5note
.
-- 454 --
Kath.
Nay, then,
Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day;
No, nor to-morrow, nor till6note I please myself.
The door is open, sir, there lies your way,
You may be jogging, whiles your boots are green;
For me, I'll not be gone, till I please myself:—
'Tis like, you'll prove a jolly surly groom,
That take it on you at the first so roundly.
Pet.
O, Kate, content thee; pr'ythee, be not angry.
Kath.
I will be angry; What hast thou to do?—
Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure.
Gre.
Ay, marry, sir: now it begins to work.
Kath.
Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner:—
I see, a woman may be made a fool,
If she had not a spirit to resist.
-- 455 --
Pet.
They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command:—
Obey the bride, you that attend on her:
Go to the feast, revel and domineer,
Carouse full measure to her maidenhead,
Be mad and merry,—or go hang yourselves:
But for my bonny Kate, she must with me.
Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret;
I will be master of what is mine own:
She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house,
My houshold-stuff, my field, my barn7note
,
My horse, my ox, my ass8note, my any thing;
And here she stands, touch her whoever dare;
I'll bring my action on the proudest he
That stops my way in Padua.—Grumio,
Draw forth thy weapon, we're beset with thieves;
Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man:—
Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch thee, Kate;
I'll buckler thee against a million. [Exeunt Petruchio, Katharine, and Grumio.
Bap.
Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones.
Gre.
Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing.
Tra.
Of all mad matches, never was the like!
Luc.
Mistress, what's your opinion of your sister?
Bian.
That, being mad herself, she's madly mated.
Gre.
I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated.
-- 456 --
Bap.
Neighbours and friends, though bride and bridegroom wants
For to supply the places at the table,
You know, there wants no junkets at the feast;—
Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's place;
And let Bianca take her sister's room.
Tra.
Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it?
Bap.
She shall, Lucentio.—Come, gentlemen, let's go. [Exeunt.ACT IV.SCENE I.A Hall in Petruchio's Country House.
Enter Grumio.
Gru.
Fye, fye, on all tired jades! on all mad
masters! and all foul ways! Was ever man so
beaten? was ever man so rayed9note
? was ever man so
weary? I am sent before to make a fire, and they
are coming after to warm them. Now, were not
I a little pot, and soon hot1note
, my very lips might
-- 457 --
freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roof of my
mouth, my heart in my belly, ere I should come
by a fire to thaw me:—But, I, with blowing the
fire, shall warm myself; for, considering the weather,
a taller man than I will take cold. Holla,
hoa! Curtis!
Enter Curtis.
Curt.
Who is that, calls so coldly?
Gru.
A piece of ice: If thou doubt it, thou
may'st slide from my shoulder to my heel, with no
greater a run but my head and my neck. A fire,
good Curtis.
Curt.
Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio?
Gru.
O, ay, Curtis, ay: and therefore fire, fire;
cast on no water2note
.
Curt.
Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported?
Gru.
She was, good Curtis, before this frost: but,
thou know'st, winter tames man, woman, and beast;
for it hath tamed my old master, and my new mistress,
and myself, fellow Curtis3note
Am I but three inches? why, thy horn is
a foot; and so long am I, at the least5note. But wilt
thou make a fire, or shall I complain on thee to our
mistress, whose hand (she being now at hand,) thou
shalt soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow
in thy hot office.
Curt.
I pr'ythee, good Grumio, tell me, How
goes the world?
Gru.
A cold world, Curtis, in every office but
thine; and, therefore, fire: Do thy duty, and have
thy duty; for my master and mistress are almost
frozen to death.
-- 459 --
Curt.
There's fire ready; And therefore, good
Grumio, the news?
Gru.
Why, Jack boy! ho boy6note[unresolved image link]! and as much
news as thou wilt7note.
Curt.
Come, you are so full of conycatching:—
Gru.
Why therefore, fire; for I have caught extreme
cold. Where's the cook? is supper ready,
the house trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept;
the serving-men in their new fustian, their white
stockings8note, and every officer his wedding-garment
on? Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without9note
And therefore 'tis called, a sensible tale:
and this cuff was but to knock at your ear, and beseech
listening. Now I begin: Imprimis, we came
down a foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress:—
Tell thou the tale:—But hadst thou not
crossed me, thou should'st have heard how her horse
fell, and she under her horse; thou should'st have
heard, in how miry a place; how she was bemoiled5note;
how he left her with the horse upon her; how he
beat me because her horse stumbled; how she
waded through the dirt to pluck him off me; how
he swore; how she prayed—that never prayed
before6note! how I cried; how the horses ran away;
how her bridle was burst7note; how I lost my crupper;
—with many things of worthy memory; which now
shall die in oblivion, and thou return unexperienced
to thy grave.
Ay; and that, thou and the proudest of
you all shall find, when he comes home. But what
talk I of this?—call forth Nathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas,
Philip, Walter, Sugarsop, and the rest; let
their heads be sleekly combed, their blue coats
brushed9note, and their garters of an indifferent knit1note
:
-- 462 --
let them curtsey with their left legs; and not presume
to touch a hair of my master's horse-tail, till
they kiss their hands. Are they all ready?
Curt.
They are.
Gru.
Call them forth.
Curt.
Do you hear, ho? you must meet my
master, to countenance my mistress.
Gru.
Why, she hath a face of her own.
Curt.
Who knows not that?
Gru.
Thou, it seems; that callest for company
to countenance her.
Curt.
I call them forth to credit her.
Gru.
Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them.
-- 463 --
Enter several Servants.
Nath.
Welcome home, Grumio.
Phil.
How now, Grumio?
Jos.
What, Grumio!
Nich.
Fellow Grumio!
Nath.
How now, old lad?
Gru.
Welcome, you;—how now, you; what,
you;—fellow, you;—and thus much for greeting.
Now, my spruce companions, is all ready, and all
things neat?
Pet.
Where be these knaves? What, no man at door4note,
-- 464 --
To hold my stirrup, nor to take my horse!
Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip?—
All Serv.
Here, here, sir; here, sir.
Pet.
Here, sir! here sir! here, sir! here, sir!—
You logger-headed and unpolish'd grooms!
What, no attendance? no regard? no duty?—
Where is the foolish knave I sent before?
Gru.
Here, sir; as foolish as I was before.
Pet.
You peasant swain! you whoreson malt-horse drudge!
Did I not bid thee meet me in the park,
And bring along these rascal knaves with thee?
Gru.
Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made,
-- 465 --
And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i'the heel;
There was no link to colour Peter's hat5note,
And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing:
There were none fine, but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory;
The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly;
Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you.
Pet.
Go, rascals, go, and fetch my supper in.—
[Exeunt some of the Servants. Where is the life that late I led6note
—
[Sings.
Where are those—Sit down, Kate, and welcome.
Soud, soud, soud, soud7note
!
-- 466 --
Re-enter Servants, with supper.
Why, when, I say?—Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry.
Off with my boots, you rogues, you villains; When?
It was the friar of orders grey8note,
As he forth walked on his way:—
Sings.
Out, out, you rogue9note! you pluck my foot awry:
Take that, and mend the plucking off the other.—
[Strikes him.
Be merry, Kate:—Some water, here; what, ho!—
Where's my spaniel Troilus?—Sirrah, get you hence,
And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither1note:—
[Exit Servant.
One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted with.—
Where are my slippers?—Shall I have some water?
[A bason is presented to him.
Come, Kate, and wash2note
, and welcome heartily:—
[Servant lets the ewer fall.
-- 467 --
You whoreson villain! will you let it fall?
[Strikes him.
Kath.
Patience, I pray you; 'twas a fault unwilling.
Pet.
A whoreson, beetleheaded, flap-ear'd knave!
Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a stomach.
Will you give thanks, sweet Kate; or else shall I?—
What's this? mutton?
1 Serv.
Ay.
Pet.
Who brought it?
1 Serv.
I.
Pet.
'Tis burnt; and so is all the meat:
What dogs are these?—Where is the rascal cook?
How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser,
And serve it thus to me that love it not?
There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all:
[Throws the meat, &c. about the stage.
-- 468 --
You heedless joltheads, and unmanner'd slaves!
What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight.
Kath.
I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet;
The meat was well, if you were so contented.
Pet.
I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away;
And I expressly am forbid to touch it,
For it engenders choler, planteth anger;
And better 'twere, that both of us did fast,—
Since, of ourselves, ourselves are cholerick,—
Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh.
Be patient; to-morrow it shall be mended,
And, for this night, we'll fast for company:—
Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. [Exeunt Petruchio, Katharina, and Curtis.
Nath. [Advancing.]
Peter, didst ever see the like?
Peter.
He kills her in her own humour. Re-enter Curtis.
Gru.
Where is he?
Curt.
In her chamber,
Making a sermon of continency to her:
And rails, and swears, and rates; that she, poor soul,
Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak;
And sits as one new-risen from a dream.
Away, away! for he is coming hither.
[Exeunt.Re-enter Petruchio.
Pet.
Thus have I politickly begun my reign,
And 'tis my hope to end successfully:
My falcon now is sharp, and passing empty;
And, till she stoop, she must not be full-gorg'd3note
,
-- 469 --
For then she never looks upon her lure.
Another way I have to man my haggard4note,
To make her come, and know her keeper's call,
That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites5note
, and beat, and will not be obedient.
She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat;
Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not;
As with the meat, some undeserved fault
I'll find about the making of the bed;
And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster,
This way the coverlet, another way the sheets:—
Ay, and amid this hurly, I intend7note
,
That all is done in reverend care of her;
And, in conclusion, she shall watch all night:
And, if she chance to nod, I'll rail, and brawl,
And with the clamour keep her still awake.
This is a way to kill a wife with kindness;
-- 470 --
And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour:—
He that knows better how to tame a shrew,
Now let him speak; 'tis charity to show.
[Exit.
8 note. SCENE IIPadua. Before Baptista's House.
Enter Tranio and Hortensio.
Tra.
Is't possible, friend Licio, that mistress Bianca9note
-- 471 --
Doth fancy any other but Lucentio?
I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand.
Hor.
Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said,
Stand by, and mark the manner of his teaching. [They stand aside.Enter Bianca and Lucentio.
Luc.
Now, mistress, profit you in what you read?
Bian.
What, master, read you? first resolve me that.
Luc.
I read that I profess, the art to love.
Bian.
And may you prove, sir, master of your art!
Luc.
While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart. [They retire.
Hor.
Quick proceeders, marry1note! Now, tell me, I pray,
You that durst swear that your mistress Bianca
Lov'd none2note in the world so well as Lucentio.
Tra.
O despiteful love! unconstant womankind!—
I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful.
Hor.
Mistake no more: I am not Licio,
Nor a musician, as I seem to be;
But one that scorn to live in this disguise,
For such a one as leaves a gentleman,
And makes a god of such a cullion3note
:
Know, sir, that I am call'd—Hortensio.
-- 472 --
Tra.
Signior Hortensio, I have often heard
Of your entire affection to Bianca;
And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness,
I will with you,—if you be so contented,—
Forswear Bianca and her love for ever.
Hor.
See, how they kiss and court!—Signior Lucentio,
Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow—
Never to woo her more; but do forswear her,
As one unworthy all the former favours
That I have fondly flatter'd her withal4note.
Tra.
And here I take the like unfeigned oath,—
Ne'er to marry with her though she would entreat:
Fye on her! see, how beastly she doth court him.
Hor.
'Would, all the world, but he, had quite forsworn!
For me,—that I may surely keep mine oath,
I will be married to a wealthy widow,
Ere three days pass; which hath as long lov'd me,
As I have lov'd this proud disdainful haggard:
And so farewell, signior Lucentio.—
Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks,
Shall win my love:—and so I take my leave,
In resolution as I swore before. [Exit Hortensio.—Lucentio and Bianca advance.
Tra.
Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace
As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case!
Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love;
And have forsworn you, with Hortensio.
Bian.
Tranio, you jest; But have you both forsworn me?
Tra.
Mistress, we have.
Luc.
Then we are rid of Licio.
-- 473 --
Tra.
I'faith, he'll have a lusty widow now,
That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day.
Bian.
The taming-school! what, is there such a place?
Tra.
Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master;
That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long,—
To tame a shrew, and charm her chattering tongue6note
. Enter Biondello, running.
Bion.
O master, master, I have watch'd so long
That I'm dog-weary; but at last I spied
An ancient angel7note
I know not what; but formal in apparel,
In gait and countenance surely like a father9note
.
Luc.
And what of him, Tranio?
Tra.
If he be credulous, and trust my tale,
I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio;
And give assurance to Baptista Minola,
As if he were the right Vincentio.
Take in your love, and then let me alone1note
. [Exeunt Lucentio and Bianca.
Enter a Pedant.
Ped.
God save you, sir!
Tra.
And you, sir! you are welcome.
Travel you far on, or are you at the furthest?
Ped.
Sir, at the furthest for a week or two:
But then up further; and as far as Rome;
And so to Tripoly, if God lend me life.
Tra.
What countryman, I pray?
Ped.
Of Mantua.
Tra.
Of Mantua, sir?—marry, God forbid!
And come to Padua, careless of your life?
Ped.
My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard.
; Know you not the cause?
Your ships are staid at Venice; and the duke
(For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him,)
Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly:
'Tis marvel; but that you're but newly come,
You might have heard it else proclaim'd about.
Ped.
Alas, sir, it is worse for me than so;
For I have bills for money by exchange
From Florence, and must here deliver them.
Tra.
Well, sir, to do you courtesy,
This will I do, and this will I advise you;—
First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa?
Ped.
Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been;
Pisa, renowned for grave citizens3note.
Tra.
Among them, know you one Vincentio?
Ped.
I know him not, but I have heard of him;
A merchant of incomparable wealth.
Tra.
He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say,
In countenance somewhat doth resemble you.
Bion.
As much as an apple doth an oyster, and
all one.
[Aside.
Tra.
To save your life in this extremity,
This favour will I do you for his sake;
And think it not the worst of all your fortunes,
That you are like to sir Vincentio.
His name and credit shall you undertake,
And in my house you shall be friendly lodg'd;—
Look, that you take upon you as you should;
You understand me, sir;—so shall you stay
Till you have done your business in the city:
If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it.
-- 477 --
Ped.
O, sir, I do; and will repute you ever
The patron of my life and liberty.
Tra.
Then go with me, to make the matter good.
This, by the way, I let you understand;—
My father is here look'd for every day,
To pass assurance4note of a dower in marriage
'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here:
In all these circumstances I'll instruct you:
Go with me, sir, to clothe you as becomes you5note
. [Exeunt.SCENE III.A Room in Petruchio's House.
Enter Katharina and Grumio6note
.
Gru.
No, no; forsooth; I dare not, for my life.
Kath.
The more my wrong, the more his spite appears:
-- 478 --
What, did he marry me to famish me?
Beggars, that come unto my father's door,
-- 479 --
Upon entreaty, have a present alms;
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity:
But I,—who never knew how to entreat,—
Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep;
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed:
And that which spites me more than all these wants,
He does it under name of perfect love;
As who should say,—if I should sleep, or eat,
'Twere deadly sickness, or else present death.—
I pr'ythee go, and get me some repast;
I care not what, so it be wholesome food.
Gru.
What say you to a neat's foot?
Kath.
'Tis passing good; I pr'ythee let me have it.
Kath.
Why, then the beef, and let the mustard rest.
Gru.
Nay, then I will not; you shall have the mustard,
Or else you get no beef of Grumio.
Kath.
Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.
Gru.
Why, then the mustard without the beef.
Kath.
Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave,
[Beats him.
That feed'st me with the very name of meat:
Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you,
That triumph thus upon my misery!
Go, get thee gone, I say. Enter Petruchio with a dish of meat; and Hortensio.
Pet.
How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort9note
?
Hor.
Mistress, what cheer?
Kath.
'Faith, as cold as can be.
Pet.
Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon me.
-- 481 --
Here, love; thou see'st how diligent I am,
To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee:
[Sets the dish on a table.
I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.
What, not a word? Nay then, thou lov'st it not;
And all my pains is sorted to no proof1note:—
Here, take away this dish.
Kath.
'Pray you, let it stand.
Pet.
The poorest service is repaid with thanks;
And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.
Kath.
I thank you, sir.
Hor.
Signior Petruchio, fye! you are to blame!
Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.
Pet.
Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lov'st me.—
[Aside.
Much good do it unto thy gentle heart!
Kate, eat apace:—And now, my honey love,
Will we return unto thy father's house;
And revel it as bravely as the best,
With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings,
With ruffs, and cuffs, and farthingales, and things2note
;
With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery,
With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery.
-- 482 --
What, hast thou din'd? The tailor stays thy leisure,
To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure3note
.
Enter Tailor.
Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments4note;
Pet.
Why, this was moulded on a porringer6note;
A velvet dish;—fye, fye! 'tis lewd and filthy:
Why, 'tis a cockle, or a walnutshell,
A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap;
Away with it, come, let me have a bigger.
Kath.
I'll have no bigger; this doth fit the time,
And gentlewomen wear such caps as these.
Pet.
When you are gentle, you shall have one too,
-- 485 --
And not till then.
Hor.
That will not be in haste. [Aside.
Kath.
Why, sir, I trust, I may have leave to speak7note;
And speak I will; I am no child, no babe:
Your betters have endur'd me say my mind;
And, if you cannot, best you stop your ears.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart;
Or else my heart, concealing it, will break:
And, rather than it shall, I will be free
Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.
Pet.
Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap,
A custard-coffin8note
, a bauble, a silken pie:
I love thee well, in that thou lik'st it not.
Kath.
Love me, or love me not, I like the cap;
-- 486 --
And it I will have, or I will have none.
Pet.
Thy gown? why, ay:—Come, tailor, let us see't.
O mercy, God! what masking stuff is here?
What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon:
What! up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart?
Here's snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash,
Like to a censer9note
in a barber's shop:—
Why, what, o'devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?
Hor.
I see, she's like to have neither cap nor gown. [Aside.
Tai.
You bid me make it orderly and well,
According to the fashion, and the time.
Pet.
Marry, and did; but if you be remember'd,
I did not bid you mar it to the time.
Go, hop me over every kennel home,
For you shall hop without my custom, sir:
I'll none of it; hence, make your best of it.
Kath.
I never saw a better-fashion'd gown,
More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable:
Belike, you mean to make a puppet of me.
Pet.
Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee.
Tai.
She says, your worship means to make a
puppet of her.
,
Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail,
Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter cricket thou:—
Brav'd in mine own house with a skein of thread!
Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant;
Or I shall so be-mete thee2note with thy yard,
As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv'st!
I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.
Tai.
Your worship is deceiv'd; the gown is made
Just as my master had direction:
Grumio gave order how it should be done.
Face not me: thou hast braved many men4note;
brave not me; I will neither be faced nor braved.
I say unto thee,—I bid thy master cut out the
gown; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces5note:
ergo, thou liest.
Error i'the bill, sir; error i'the bill. I commanded
the sleeves should be cut out, and sewed
up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, though
thy little finger be armed in a thimble.
-- 489 --
Tai.
This is true, that I say; an I had thee in
place where; thou should'st know it.
Gru.
I am for thee straight: take thou the bill8note,
give me thy mete-yard9note
, and spare not me.
Hor.
God-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall have
no odds.
Pet.
Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me.
Gru.
You are i'the right, sir; 'tis for my mistress.
Pet.
Go, take it up unto thy master's use.
Gru.
Villain, not for thy life: Take up my mistress'
gown for thy master's use!
Pet.
Why, sir, what's your conceit in that?
Gru.
O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for:
Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use!
O, fye, fye, fye!
Pet.
Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid:—
[Aside.
Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more.
Hor.
Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown to-morrow.
Take no unkindness of his hasty words:
Away, I say; commend me to thy master. [Exit Tailor.
Pet.
Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father's,
Even in these honest mean habiliments;
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor:
For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
-- 490 --
What, is the jay more precious than the lark,
Because his feathers are more beautiful?
Or is the adder better than the eel,
Because his painted skin contents the eye?
O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse
For this poor furniture, and mean array.
If thou account'st it shame, lay it on me:
And therefore, frolick; we will hence forthwith,
To feast and sport us at thy father's house.—
Go, call my men, and let us straight to him;
And bring our horses unto Long-lane end,
There will we mount, and thither walk on foot.—
Let's see; I think, 'tis now some seven o'clock,
And well we may come there by dinner time.
Kath.
I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two;
And 'twill be supper time, ere you come there.
Pet.
It shall be seven, ere I go to horse:
Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do,
You are still crossing it.—Sirs, let't alone:
I will not go to-day; and ere I do,
It shall be what o'clock I say it is.
Hor.
Why, so! this gallant will command the sun. [Exeunt1note
.
-- 491 --
2 note. SCENE IVPadua. Before Baptista's House.
Enter Tranio, and the Pedant dressed like Vincentio.
Tra.
Sir, this is the house3note; Please it you, that I call?
Ped.
Ay, what else? and, but I be deceived4note
,
Signior Baptista may remember me,
Near twenty years ago, in Genoa,
Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus5note
.
Tra.
'Tis well; and hold your own, in any case,
-- 492 --
With such austerity as 'longeth to a father.
Enter Biondello.
Ped.
I warrant you: But, sir, here comes your boy;
'Twere good, he were school'd.
Tra.
Fear you not him. Sirrah, Biondello,
Now do your duty throughly, I advise you;
Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio.
Bion.
Tut! fear not me.
Tra.
But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista?
Bion.
I told him, that your father was at Venice;
And that you look'd for him this day in Padua.
Tra.
Thou'rt a tall fellow; hold thee that to drink.
Here comes Baptista:—set your countenance, sir.—
Enter Baptista and Lucentio6note.
Signior Baptista, you are happily met:—
Sir, [To the Pedant,]
This is the gentleman I told you of;
I pray you, stand good father to me now,
Give me Bianca for my patrimony.
Ped.
Soft, son!—
Sir, by your leave; having come to Padua
To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio
Made me acquainted with a weighty cause
Of love between your daughter and himself:
And,—for the good report I hear of you;
And for the love he beareth to your daughter,
And she to him,—to stay him not too long,
I am content, in a good father's care,
To have him match'd; and,—if you please to like
No worse than I, sir,—upon some agreement,
-- 493 --
Me shall you find ready and willing7note
With one consent to have her so bestow'd;
For curious I cannot be with you8note,
Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well.
Bap.
Sir, pardon me in what I have to say;—,
Your plainness, and your shortness, please me well.
Right true it is, your son Lucentio here
Doth love my daughter, and she loveth him,
Or both dissemble deeply their affections:
And, therefore, if you say no more than this,
That like a father you will deal with him,
And pass my daughter a sufficient dower9note,
The match is made, and all is done1note
:
Your son shall have my daughter with consent.
Tra.
I thank you, sir. Where then do you know best,
We be affied2note
; and such assurance ta'en,
As shall with either part's agreement stand?
Bap.
Not in my house, Lucentio; for, you know,
Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants:
Besides, old Gremio is heark'ning still;
Tra.
Then at my lodging, an it like you, sir4note:
There doth my father lie; and there, this night,
We'll pass the business privately and well:
Send for your daughter by your servant here,
My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently.
The worst is this,—that, at so slender warning,
You're like to have a thin and slender pittance.
Bap.
It likes me well:—Cambio, hie you home,
And bid Bianca make her ready straight;
And, if you will, tell what hath happened:—
Lucentio's father is arriv'd in Padua,
And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife.
Luc.
I pray the gods she may with all my heart5note!
Tra.
Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone6note
.
Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way?
-- 495 --
Welcome! one mess is like to be your cheer:
Come, sir; we will better it in Pisa.
Bap.
I follow you. [Exeunt Tranio, Pedant, and Baptista.
Bion.
Cambio.—
Luc.
What say'st thou, Biondello?
Bion.
You saw my master wink and laugh upon
you?
Luc.
Biondello, what of that?
Bion.
'Faith nothing; but he has left me here
behind, to expound the meaning or moral7note of his
signs and tokens.
Luc.
I pray thee, moralize them.
Bion.
Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking with
the deceiving father of a deceitful son.
Luc.
And what of him?
Bion.
His daughter is to be brought by you to
the supper.
Luc.
And then?—
Bion.
The old priest at Saint Luke's church is at
your command at all hours.
;—they are busied
about a counterfeit assurance: Take you assurance
of her, cum privilegio ad imprimendum solùm9note: to
the church1note;—take the priest, clerk, and some sufficient
honest witnesses:
-- 496 --
If this be not that you look for, I have no more to say,
But, bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day.
[Going.
Luc.
Hear'st thou, Biondello?
Bion.
I cannot tarry: I knew a wench married
in an afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley
to stuff a rabbit; and so may you, sir; and so
adieu, sir. My master hath appointed me to go to
St. Luke's, to bid the priest be ready to come
against you come with your appendix.
[Exit.
Luc.
I may, and will, if she be so contented:
She will be pleas'd, then wherefore should I doubt?
Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her;
It shall go hard, if Cambio go without her. [Exit2note
.
-- 497 --
SCENE V.A publick Road.Enter Petruchio, Katharina, and Hortensio.
Pet.
Come on, o' God's name; once more toward our father's.
Good lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon!
Kath.
The moon! the sun; it is not moonlight now.
Pet.
I say, it is the moon that shines so bright.
Kath.
I know, it is the sun that shines so bright!
Pet.
Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself,
It shall be moon, or star, or what I list,
Or ere I journey to your father's house:—
Go on, and fetch our horses back again.—
Evermore cross'd, and cross'd; nothing but cross'd!
Hor.
Say as he says, or we shall never go.
Kath.
Forward, I pray, since we have come so far,
And be it moon, or sun, or what you please:
And if you please to call it a rush candle,
Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.
Pet.
Nay, then you lie; it is the blessed sun4note.
Kath.
Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun:—
But sun it is not, when you say it is not;
And the moon changes, even as your mind.
What you will have it nam'd, even that it is;
And so, it shall be so5note
, for Katharine.
Hor.
Petruchio, go thy ways; the field is won.
Pet.
Well, forward, forward: thus the bowl should run,
And not unluckily against the bias.—
But soft; what company is coming here6note
?
Enter Vincentio, in a travelling dress.
Good-morrow, gentle mistress: Where away?—
[To Vincentio.
Tell me, sweet Kate7note
, and tell me truly too,
-- 499 --
Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman?
Such war of white and red within her cheeks!
What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty,
As those two eyes become that heavenly face?—
Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee:—
Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake.
Hor.
'A will make the man mad, to make a woman8noteof him.
Kath.
Young budding virgin, fair, and fresh, and sweet,
Whither away; or where is thy abode9note?
Happy the parents of so fair a child;
Happier the man, whom favourable stars
Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow1note
!
-- 500 --
Pet.
Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art not mad:
This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd;
And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is.
Kath.
Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,
That have been so bedazzled with the sun,
That every thing I look on seemeth green2note:
Now I perceive, thou art a reverend father;
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.
Pet.
Do, good old grandsire; and, withal, make known
Which way thou travelest: if along with us,
We shall be joyful of thy company.
Vin.
Fair sir,—and you my merry mistress3note,—
That with your strange encounter much amaz'd me;
My name is call'd—Vincentio; my dwelling—Pisa;
And bound I am to Padua; there to visit
-- 501 --
A son of mine, which long I have not seen.
Pet.
What is his name?
Vin.
Lucentio, gentle sir.
Pet.
Happily met; the happier for thy son.
And now by law, as well as reverend age,
I may entitle thee—my loving father;
The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman,
Thy son by this hath married: Wonder not,
Nor be not griev'd: she is of good esteem,
Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth;
Beside, so qualified as may beseem
The spouse of any noble gentleman.
Let me embrace with old Vincentio:
And wander we to see thy honest son,
Who will of thy arrival be full joyous.
Vin.
But is this true? or is it else your pleasure,
Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest
Upon the company you overtake?
Hor.
I do assure thee, father, so it is.
Pet.
Come, go along, and see the truth hereof;
For our first merriment hath made thee jealous. Exeunt Petruchio, Katharina, and Vincentio.
Hor.
Well, Petruchio, this hath put me in heart.
Have to my widow; and if she be forward,
Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward. [Exit.ACT V.SCENE I.Padua. Before Lucentio's House.
Enter on one side Biondello, Lucentio, and
Bianca; Gremio walking on the other side.
Bion.
Softly and swiftly, sir; for the priest is
ready.
-- 502 --
Luc.
I fly, Biondello: but they may chance to
need thee at home, therefore leave us.
Bion.
Nay, faith, I'll see the church o' your back;
and then come back to my master as soon as I can4note
.
[Exeunt Lucentio, Bianca, and Biondello.
Gre.
I marvel Cambio comes not all this while. Enter Petruchio, Katharina, Vincentio, and Attendants.
Pet.
Sir, here's the door, this is Lucentio's house,
My father's bears more toward the market-place;
Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir.
Vin.
You shall not choose but drink before you go;
I think, I shall command your welcome here,
And, by all likelihood, some cheer is toward. [Knocks.
Gre.
They're busy within, you were best knock
louder.
Enter Pedant above, at a window.
Ped.
What's he, that knocks as he would beat
down the gate?
Vin.
Is signior Lucentio within, sir?
Ped.
He's within, sir, but not to be spoken withal.
Vin.
What if a man bring him a hundred pound
or two, to make merry withal?
-- 503 --
Ped.
Keep your hundred pounds to yourself; he
shall need none, so long as I live.
Pet.
Nay, I told you, your son was beloved in
Padua.—Do you hear, sir?—to leave frivolous circumstances,—I
pray you, tell signior Lucentio, that
his father is come from Pisa, and is here at the door
to speak with him.
Ay, sir; so his mother says, if I may believe
her.
Pet.
Why, how now, gentleman! [To Vincen.]
why, this is flat knavery, to take upon you another
man's name.
Ped.
Lay hands on the villain; I believe, 'a
means to cozen somebody in this city under my
countenance.
Re-enter Biondello.
Bion.
I have seen them in the church together;
God send 'em good shipping!—But who is here?
mine old master, Vincentio? now we are undone,
and brought to nothing.
Vin.
Come hither, crack-hemp.
[Seeing Biondello.
Bion.
I hope, I may choose, sir.
-- 504 --
Vin.
Come hither, you rogue; What, have you
forgot me?
Bion.
Forgot you? no, sir: I could not forget
you, for I never saw you before in all my life.
Vin.
What, you notorious villain, didst thou never
see thy master's father, Vincentio6note?
Bion.
What, my old, worshipful old master? yes,
marry, sir; see where he looks out of the window.
Vin.
Is't so, indeed?
[Beats Biondello.
Bion.
Help, help, help! here's a madman will
murder me.
[Exit.
Ped.
Help, son! help, signior Baptista!
[Exit, from the window.
Pet.
Pr'ythee, Kate, let's stand aside, and see the
end of this controversy.
[They retire.Re-enter Pedant below; Baptista, Tranio, and Servants.
Tra.
Sir, what are you, that offer to beat my
servant?
Vin.
What am I, sir? nay, what are you, sir?—
O immortal gods! O fine villain! A silken doublet!
a velvet hose! a scarlet cloak! and a copatain
hat7note
!—O, I am undone! I am undone! while I
-- 505 --
play the good husband at home, my son and my
servant spend all at the university.
Tra.
How now! what's the matter?
Bap.
What, is the man lunatick?
Tra.
Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by
your habit, but your words show you a madman:
Why, sir, what concerns it you, if I wear pearl and
gold? I thank my good father, I am able to maintain
it.
Vin.
Thy father? O, villain! he is a sail-maker
in Bergamo8note
.
Bap.
You mistake, sir; you mistake, sir: Pray,
what do you think is his name?
Vin.
His name? as if I knew not his name: I
have brought him up ever since he was three years
old, and his name is—Tranio.
Ped.
Away, away, mad ass! his name is Lucentio;
and he is mine only son, and heir to the lands
of me, signior Vincentio.
Vin.
Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his master!—Lay
hold on him, I charge you, in the duke's
name:—O, my son, my son!—tell me, thou villain,
where is my son Lucentio?
carry this mad knave to the goal:—Father
Baptista, I charge you see, that he be forthcoming.
Vin.
Carry me to the gaol!
Gre.
Stay, officer; he shall not go to prison.
Bap.
Talk not, signior Gremio; I say, he shall
go to prison.
Gre.
Take heed, signior Baptista, lest you be
coney-catched1note in this business; I dare swear, this
is the right Vincentio.
Ped.
Swear, if thou darest.
Gre.
Nay, I dare not swear it.
Tra.
Then thou wert best say, that I am not
Lucentio.
Gre.
Yes, I know thee to be signior Lucentio.
Bap.
Away with the dotard; to the gaol with
him.
Vin.
Thus strangers may be haled and abus'd:—
O monstrous villain!
Re-enter Biondello, with Lucentio, and Bianca.
Bion.
O, we are spoiled, and—Yonder he is;
deny him, forswear him, or else we are all undone.
Luc.
Pardon, sweet father. [Kneeling.
Vin.
Lives my sweetest son? [Biondello, Tranio, and Pedant run out2note.
Bian.
Pardon, dear father. [Kneeling.
Bap.
How hast thou offended?—
Where is Lucentio?
-- 507 --
Luc.
Here's Lucentio,
Right son unto the right Vincentio;
That have by marriage made thy daughter mine,
While counterfeit supposes blear'd thine eyne3note
.
Gre.
Here's packing4note
, with a witness, to deceive
us all!
Vin.
Where is that damned villain, Tranio,
That fac'd and brav'd me in this matter so?
Bap.
Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio?
Bian.
Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio.
Luc.
Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love
Made me exchange my state with Tranio,
-- 508 --
While he did bear my countenance in the town;
And happily I have arriv'd at last
Unto the wished haven of my bliss:—
What Tranio did, myself enforc'd him to;
Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake.
Vin.
I'll slit the villain's nose, that would have
sent me to the gaol.
Bap.
But do you hear, sir? [To Lucentio.]
Have you married my daughter without asking my
good-will?
Vin.
Fear not, Baptista; we will content you,
go to: But I will in, to be revenged for this villainy.
[Exit.
Bap.
And I, to sound the depth of this knavery. [Exit.
Luc.
Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown. [Exeunt Luc. and Bian.
: But I'll in among the rest;
Out of hope of all,—but my share of the feast. [Exit.Petruchio and Katharina advance.
Kath.
Husband, let's follow, to see the end of this ado,
Pet.
First kiss me, Kate, and we will.
-- 509 --
Kath.
What, in the midst of the street?
Pet.
What, art thou ashamed of me?
Kath.
No, sir; God forbid:—but ashamed to kiss.
Pet.
Why, then let's home again:—Come, sirrah, let's away.
Kath.
Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now pray thee, love, stay.
Pet.
Is not this well?—Come, my sweet Kate;
Better once than never, for never too late. [Exeunt.SCENE II.A Room in Lucentio's House.
A Banquet set out; Enter Baptista, Vincentio,
Gremio, the Pedant, Lucentio, Bianca, Petruchio,
Katharina, Hortensio, and Widow.
Tranio, Biondello, Grumio, and others, attending.
Luc.
At last, though long, our jarring notes agree:
And time it is, when raging war is done6note
,
To smile at 'scapes and perils overblown.—
My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome,
While I with self-same kindness welcome thine:—
Brother Petruchio,—sister Katharina,—
And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow,—
Feast with the best, and welcome to my house:
-- 510 --
My banquet7note is to close our stomachs up,
After our great good cheer: Pray you, sit down;
For now we sit to chat, as well as eat.
[They sit at table.
Pet.
Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat!
Bap.
Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio.
Pet.
Padua affords nothing but what is kind.
Hor.
For both our sakes, I would that word were true.
Pet.
Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow8note.
Wid.
Then never trust me if I be afeard.
Pet.
You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense9note;
I mean, Hortensio is afeard of you.
Wid.
He that is giddy, thinks the world turns round.
Pet.
Roundly replied.
Kath.
Mistress, how mean you that?
Wid.
Thus I conceive by him.
Pet.
Conceives by me!—How likes Hortensio that?
Hor.
My widow says, thus she conceives her tale.
Pet.
Very well mended: Kiss him for that, good widow.
Kath.
He that is giddy, thinks the world turns round:—
I pray you, tell me what you meant by that.
Wid.
Your husband, being troubled with a shrew,
-- 511 --
Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe1note:
And now you know my meaning.
Pet.
Spoke like an officer:—Ha' to thee, lad3note. [Drinks to Hortensio.
Bap.
How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks?
Gre.
Believe me, sir, they butt together well.
Bian.
Head, and butt? an hasty-witted body
Would say, your head and butt were head and horn.
Vin.
Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken'd you?
Bian.
Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I'll sleep again.
Pet.
Nay, that you shall not; since you have begun,
Have at you for a bitter jest or two4note
.
-- 512 --
Bian.
Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush,
And then pursue me as you draw your bow:—
You are welcome all. [Exeunt Bianca, Katharina, and Widow.
Pet.
She hath prevented me.—Here, signior Tranio,
This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not;
Therefore, a health to all that shot and miss'd.
Tra.
O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his greyhound,
Which runs himself, and catches for his master.
Pet.
A good swift5note simile, but something currish.
Tra.
'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself;
'Tis thought, your deer does hold you at a bay.
Bap.
O ho, Petruchio, Tranio hits you now.
Luc.
I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio6note.
Hor.
Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here?
Pet.
'A has a little gall'd me, I confess;
And, as the jest did glance away from me,
'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright7note.
-- 513 --
Bap.
Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio,
I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.
Pet.
Well, I say—no: and therefore, for assurance8note,
Let's each one send unto his wife9note
;
-- 514 --
And he, whose wife is most obedient
To come at first when he doth send for her,
-- 515 --
Shall win the wager which we will propose.
Hor.
Content:—What is the wager?
Luc.
Twenty crowns.
-- 516 --
Pet.
Twenty crowns!
I'll venture so much on my hawk, or hound,
-- 517 --
But twenty times so much upon my wife.
Luc.
A hundred then.
Hor.
Content.
Pet.
A match; 'tis done.
Hor.
Who shall begin?
Luc.
That will I.
Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me.
Bion.
I go. [Exit.
Bap.
Son, I will be your half, Bianca comes.
Luc.
I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself.
Re-enter Biondello.
How now! what news?
Bion.
Sir, my mistress sends you word
That she is busy, and she cannot come.
Pet.
How! she is busy, and she cannot come!
Is that an answer?
-- 518 --
Gre.
Ay, and a kind one too:
Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse.
Pet.
I hope, better.
Hor.
Sirrah, Biondello, go, and entreat my wife
To come to me forthwith. [Exit Biondello.
Pet.
O, ho! entreat her!
Nay, then she must needs come.
Hor.
I am afraid, sir,
Do what you can, yours will not be entreated.
Re-enter Biondello.
Now where's my wife?
Bion.
She says, you have some goodly jest in hand;
She will not come; she bids you come to her.
Pet.
Worse and worse; she will not come! O vile,
Intolerable, not to be endur'd!
Sirrah, Grumio, go to your mistress;
Say, I command her come to me. [Exit Grumio.
Pet.
The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. Enter Katharina.
Bap.
Now, by my holidame, here comes Katharina!
Kath.
What is your will, sir, that you send for me?
Pet.
Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife?
Kath.
They sit conferring by the parlour fire.
Pet.
Go, fetch them hither; if they deny to come,
Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands:
-- 519 --
Away, I say, and bring them hither straight.
[Exit Katharina.
Luc.
Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.
Hor.
And so it is; I wonder what it bodes.
Pet.
Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life,
An awful rule, and right supremacy;
And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy.
Bap.
Now fair befal thee, good Petruchio!
The wager thou hast won; and I will add
Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns;
Another dowry to another daughter,
For she is chang'd, as she had never been.
Pet.
Nay, I will win my wager better yet;
And show more sign of her obedience,
Her new-built virtue and obedience.
Re-enter Katharina, with Bianca and Widow.
See, where she comes; and brings your froward wives
As prisoners to her womanly persuasion.—
Katharine, that cap of yours becomes you not;
Off with that bauble, throw it under foot. [Katharina pulls off her cap and throws it down.
Wid.
Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh,
Till I be brought to such a silly pass!
Bian.
Fye! what a foolish duty call you this?
Luc.
I would, your duty were as foolish too:
The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca,
Hath cost me an hundred crowns2note since suppertime.
-- 520 --
Bian.
The more fool you, for laying on my duty.
Pet.
Katharine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women
What duty they do owe their lords and husbands.
Wid.
Come, come, you're mocking; we will have no telling.
Pet.
Come on, I say; and first begin with her.
Wid.
She shall not.
Pet.
I say, she shall;—and first begin with her.
Kath.
Fye, fye! unknit that threat'ning unkind brow;
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor:
It blots thy beauty, as frosts do bite the meads3note;
Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds;
And in no sense is meet, or amiable.
A woman mov'd, is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty;
And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance: commits his body
To painful labour, both by sea and land;
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands,
But love, fair looks, and true obedience;—
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
Even such, a woman oweth to her husband:
And, when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And not obedient to his honest will,
What is she, but a foul contending rebel,
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?—
-- 521 --
I am asham'd, that women are so simple
To offer war, where they should kneel for peace;
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.
Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world;
But that our soft conditions4note
, and our hearts,
Should well agree with our external parts?
Come, come, you froward and unable worms!
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great; my reason, haply, more,
To bandy word for word, and frown for frown:
But now, I see our lances are but straws;
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,—
That seeming to be most, which we indeed least are5note.
Then vail your stomachs6note
, for it is no boot;
And place your hands below your husband's foot:
In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready, may it do him ease.
Pet.
Why, there's a wench!—Come on, and kiss me, Kate.
Luc.
Well, go thy ways, old lad; for thou shalt ha't.
Vin.
'Tis a good hearing, when children are toward.
Luc.
But a harsh hearing, when women are froward.
-- 522 --
Pet.
Come, Kate, we'll to bed:—
We three are married, but you two are sped7note.
'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white8note
;
[To Lucentio.
And, being a winner, God give you good night! [Exeunt Petruchio and Kath.
Hor.
Now go thy ways, thou hast tam'd a curst shrew9note.
Luc.
'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tam'd so. [Exeunt1.
