Baptista.
Signior Lucentio, [to Tra.] this is the 'pointed day
That Catherine and Petruchio should be marry'd,
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?

Cat.
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 spleen;
Who woo'd in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
I told you, I,—he was a frantic 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, yes, and proclaim the banns;
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
Now must the world point at poor Catherine;
And say,—Lo! there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her.

Tra.
Patience, good Catherine, 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.

Cat.
'Would, Catherine had never seen him though! [Exit, weeping: is followed by Bianca, Gremio, Hortensio, and others.

Bap.
Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep;
For such an injury would vex a saint,
Much more a shrew of thy impatient temper. Enter Biondello, hastily.

Bio.

Master, master, [to Tra.] news, old news, and such news as you never heard of!

Bap.

Is it new and old too? how may that be?

Bio.

Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio's coming?

Bap.

Is he come?

Bio.

Why, no, sir.

Bap.

What then?

Bio.

He is coming.

Bap.

When will he be here?

Bio.

When he stands where I am, and sees you there.

Tra.

But say, what be thine old news?

Bio.

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 lac'd; an old rusty sword ta'en out of the town armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless, with two broken points: His horse hip'd with an old mothy saddle, the stirrops of no kindred: besides, possest with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine; troubled with the lampass, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls,

sped with spavins, ray'd with the yellows, past cure of the vives, stark spoil'd with the staggers, begnawn with the bots; sway'd in the back, and shoulder-shotten; near-leg'd before, and with a half-check'd bit, and a head-stall of sheep's-leather; which, being restrain'd to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repaired with knots; one girth six times piec'd, and a woman's crupper of velure; which hath two letters for her name, fairly set down in studs, and here and there piec'd with pack-thread* ^note.

Bap.

Who comes with him?

Bio.

O, sir, his lacquey, for all the world caparison'd like the horse; with a linen stock on one leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, garter'd with a red and blue lift; an old hat, and the humour of forty fancies prick'd in't for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparel; and not like a christian foot-boy, or a gentleman's lacquey.

Tra.
'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion;—
Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparel'd.

Bap.
I am glad, he's come though, howsoe'er he comes.

Bio.
Why, sir, he comes not.

Bap.
Didst thou not say, he comes?

Bio.
Who? that Petruchio came?

Bap.
Ay, that Petruchio came.

Bio.
No, sir; I say, that his horse comes, with him
On his back.

Bap.
Why, that's all one.

Bio.
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 his man Grumio, oddly habited both.

Pet.
Come, where be these gallants here? who's at home?

Bap.
You are welcome, sir.

Pet.
And yet I come not well.

&blquo;Bap.
&blquo;And yet you halt not.

Tra.
Not so well apparel'd
As I could wish you were.

Pet.
Tut! 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 wond'rous 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.
Fie! doff this habit, shame to your estate,
An eye-sore to our solemn festival.

Tra.
And tell us, what occasion of import
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:
&blquo;Though, in some part, enforced to digress;
&blquo;Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse
&blquo;As you shall well be satisfy'd 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 cloaths 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 marry'd, not unto my cloaths:
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 Pet. Gru. and Bio.

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. [Exeunt Bap. and Attendants. Tranio follows; but is beckoned back by Lucentio, who converses awhile apart.

Tra.
But to her love, sir, concerneth us to add
Her father's liking: Which, to bring to pass,
As I before imparted 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, despight of all the world.

Tra.
That, by degrees, we mean to look into,
And watch our vantage in this business:—
We'll over-reach the grey-beard, Gremio;
The narrow-prying father, Minola;
The quaint musician, amorous Licio;
All for my master's sake, Lucentio.— Re-enter Gremio, laughing.
Now, Signior Gremio! came you from the church?

Gre.
As willingly as e'er I came from school.

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 Catherine 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,
This 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 rose up again?

Gre.
Trembl'd, and shook; for why, he stamp'd and swore,
As if the vicar meant to cozen him.
&blquo;But after many ceremonies done,
&blquo;He calls for wine:—
&blquo;A health, quoth he; as he had been aboard,
&blquo;Carousing to his mates after a storm:
&blquo;Quafft off the muscadel, and threw the sops
&blquo;All in the sexton's face; having no other reason,—
&blquo;But that his beard grew thin and hungerly,
&blquo;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 eccho,
I, seeing this, came thence for very shame;
And after me, I know, the rout is coming:
Such a mad marriage never was before!
Hark, hark! I hear the minstrels play. [Music. Enter Petruchio and Catherine, as married; Baptista, Grumio, Hortensio, Bianca, 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 farewel to you all.

Tra.
Let us entreat you stay 'till after dinner.

Pet.
It may not be.

Gre.
Let me entreat you, sir.

Pet.
It cannot be.

Cat.
Let me entreat you then.

Pet.
I am content.

Cat.
Are you content to stay?

Pet.
I am content, you shall entreat my stay;
But yet not stay, entreat me how you can.

Cat.
Now, if you love me, stay.

Pet.
Grumio, my horses.

&blquo;Gru.
&blquo;Ay, sir, they be ready;
&blquo;The oats have eaten up the horses.

Cat.
Nay then,
Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day;
No, nor to-morrow, nor 'till I please myself.
The door is open, sir, there lies your way,
You may be jogging while your boots are green;
For me, I'll not be gone 'till 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.

Cat.
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.

Cat.
Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner:—
I see a woman may be made a fool,
If she had not a spirit to resist.

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 barn, my stable,
My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing;

And here she stands, touch her whoever dare;
I'll bring mine 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* ^note. [Exit, hurrying Catherine out; Grumio, with his sword drawn, bringing up the rear.

&blquo;Bap.
&blquo;Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones.

&blquo;Gre.
&blquo;Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing.

&blquo;Tra.
&blquo;Of all mad matches, never was the like!—
&blquo;Mistress, what's your opinion of your sister?

&blquo;Bia.
&blquo;That, being mad herself, she's madly mated.

&blquo;Gre.
&blquo;I'll warrant him, Petruchio is Kated.

&blquo;Bap.
&blquo;Neighbours and friends, though bride and bridegroom wants
&blquo;For to supply the places at the table,
&blquo;You know, there wants no junkets at the feast:—
&blquo;Lucentio, you supply the bridegroom's place;
&blquo;And let Bianca take her sister's room.

&blquo;Tra.
&blquo;Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it?

&blquo;Bap.
&blquo;She shall, Lucentio.—Come, gentlemen; let's go. [Exeunt.

Sly.
Sim, When will the fool come again?

1. S.
Anon, my lord.

Sly.
Give's some more drink here!—where's the tapster?—Here, Sim,
Eat some of these things. [Giving him some conserves.

1. S.
So I do, my lord.

Sly.
Here, Sim, I drink to thee. [Drinks.

SCENE II. A Hall in Petruchio's Country-House. Enter Grumio, halting.

Gru.

Fie, fie, on all tir'd jades! on all mad masters! and all foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? was ever man so 'wray'd? 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 hot, my very lips might 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. Hola, ho! Curtis!

Cur.

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.

Cur.

Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio?

Gru.

O, ay Curtis, ay: and therefore fire, fire; cast on no water.

Cur.

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 tam'd my old master and my new mistress,— and thyself, fellow Curtis.

&blquo;Cur.

&blquo;Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast.&brquo;

&blquo;Gru.

&blquo;Am I but three inches? why thy horn is a foot; and so long am I, at the least. 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.&brquo;

&blquo;Cur.

&blquo;I pr'ythee, good Grumio, tell me, how goes the world!&brquo;

&blquo;Gru.

&blquo;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.&brquo;

&blquo;Cur.

&blquo;There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news?&brquo;

&blquo;Gru.

&blquo;Why, Jack, boy! ho, boy! and as much news as thou wilt.&brquo;

&blquo;Cur.

&blquo;Come, you are so full of coney-catching.—&brquo;

&blquo;Gru.

&blquo;Why, therefore, fire; for I have caught extreme cold.&brquo; Where's the cook? is supper ready, the house trimm'd, rushes strew'd, cobwebs swept; the servingmen in their new fustian, their white stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on? be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without, the carpets laid, and every thing in order?&brquo;

Cur.

All ready: And therefore, I pray thee, news?

Gru.

First, know, my horse is tired; my master and mistress fall'n out.

Cur.

How?

Gru.

Out of their saddles into the dirt; and thereby hangs a tale.

Cur.

Let's ha't, good Grumio.

&blquo;Gru.

&blquo;Lend thine ear.&brquo;

&blquo;Cur.

&blquo;Here.&brquo;

&blquo;Gru.

&blquo;There.&brquo;

&blquo;Cur.

&blquo;This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.&brquo;

Gru.

&blquo;And therefore 'tis call'd—a sensible tale: and this cuff was but to knock at your ear, and beseech list'ning. Now I begin.&brquo;—Imprimis, we came down a foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress:—&brquo;

Cur.

Both on one horse?

Gru.

What's that to thee?

Cur.

Why, a horse.

Gru.

Tell thou the tale: But, hadst thou not cross'd me, thou shouldst have heard, how her horse fell, and she under her horse; thou shouldst have heard, in how miry a place: how she was bemoiled; how he left her with the horse upon her; how he beat me because her horse stumbl'd; how she waded through the dirt to pluck him off me; how he swore; how she pray'd,—that never pray'd before: how I cry'd; how the horses ran away; how her bridle was burst; how I lost my crupper; —with many things of worthy memory; which now

shall die in oblivion, and thou return unexperienc'd to thy grave.

Cur.

By this reck'ning, he is more shrew than she.

Gru.

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, Sugar-sop, and the rest: let their heads be sleekly comb'd, their blue coats brush'd, and their garters of an indifferent knot: let them curt'sy with their left legs; and not presume to touch a hair of my master's horsetail, till they kiss their hands. Are they all ready?* ^note

Cur.

They are.

Gru.

Call them forth.

Cur.

Do you hear, ho! [calling.] you must meet my master, &blquo;to countenance my mistress.

&blquo;Gru.

&blquo;Why, she hath a face of her own.&brquo;

&blquo;Cur.

&blquo;Who knows not that?&brquo;

&blquo;Gru.

&blquo;Thou, it seems; that call'st for company to countenance her.&brquo;

&blquo;Cur.

&blquo;I call them forth to credit her.&brquo;

&blquo;Gru.

&blquo;Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them.&brquo;

1. S.

Welcome home, Grumio.

2. S.

How now, Grumio?

3. S.

What, Grumio!

4. S.

Fellow Grumio!

1. S.

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?

1. S.

All things are ready. How near is our master?

Gru.

E'en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore be not,—Cock's passion, silence; I hear my master.

Enter Petruchio and Catherine.

Pet.
Where be these knaves? What, no man at the door,
To hold my stirrop, nor to take my horse!
Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip?—

Ser.
Here, here, sir;
Here, sir. [Crouding round him.

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 whorson 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,
And Gabriel's pumps were all-unpink'd i'th' heel;
There was no link to colour Peter's hat,
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. Cloth laid.

Where is the life that late I led, say they.— [Sings.
Where are those villains?—Sit down, Kate, and welcome.— [Sits to table.
Soud, soud, soud, soud!— [Wiping himself. 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 grey, [Sings.
As he forth walked on his way:—
Out, out, you rogue! [to the Servant.] you pluck my foot awry:
Take that, [striking him.] and mend the plucking of the other.—
Be merry, Kate:—Some water here; what ho!—

Where's my spaniel Troilus?—Sirrah, get you hence,
And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither:— [Exit Ser.
One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted with.—
Where are my slippers?—Shall I have some water?— [Water presented.
Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily:— [Servant lets the ewer fall.
You whorson villain! will you let it fall? [Strikes him.

Cat.
Patience, I pray you, 'twas a fault unwilling.

Pet.
A whorson, beetle-headed, flap-ear'd knave!—
Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a stomach. [Seats her by him
Will you give thanks, sweet Kate, or else shall I?—
What is this? mutton?

1. S.
Ay.

Pet.
Who brought it?

1. S.
I.

Pet.
'Tis burnt; and so is all the rest o'th' 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; [Throwing all at them.
You heedless jolt-heads, and unmanner'd slaves!
What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight.

Cat.
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 dry'd 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 choleric,—
Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh.
Be patient; to-morrow't shall be mended,
And, for this night, we'll fast for company:—
Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber* ^note. [Exit, leading out Cat. Cur. follows.

1. S. [advancing.]
Peter, didst ever see the like?

5. S.
He kills her
In her own humour. Re-enter Curtis.

Gru.
Where is he?

Cur.
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 politicly begun my reign,
And 'tis my hope to end successfully:
&blquo;My faulcon now is sharp, and passing empty;
&blquo;And, 'till she stoop, she must not be full gorg'd,
&blquo;For then she never looks upon her lure.
Another way I have to man my haggard,
To make her come, and know her keeper's call;
That is,—to watch her, as we watch these kites,
That bait, 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 intend,
That all is done in rev'rend 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;
And thus I'll curb her mad and head-strong humour:—
He that knows better how to tame a shrew,
Now let him speak; 'tis charity to shew* ^note. [Exit.

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