Sly.
Sly.
I'll pheeze you, in faith.
Host.
A pair of stocks, you rogue!
Sly.
Y'are a baggage; the Slies are no
rogues. Look in the Chronicles, we came
in with Richard Conqueror; therefore, paucus
pallabris;(1) note let the world slide: Sessa.
Host.
You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?
Sly.
No, not a deniere: go by, Jeronimo—go to
thy coldbed, and warm thee.(2) note
-- 272 --
Host.
I know my remedy; I must go fetch the
Third-borough.(3) note
[Exit.
-- 273 --
Sly.
Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer
him by law; I'll not budge an inch, boy; let him
come, and kindly.
[Falls asleep.
Wind horns. Enter a Lord from hunting, with a Train.
Lord.
Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds;
(Brach, Merriman!—the poor cur is imbost;)
And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd Brach.
Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge-corner in the coldest fault?
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
Hun.
Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;
He cried upon it at the meerest 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 Eccho 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.
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.
-- 274 --
What think you, if he were convey'd to bed,
Wrapt in sweet cloaths; rings put upon his fingers;
A most delicious banquet by his bed,
And brave attendants near him, when he wakes;
Would not the beggar then forget himself?
1 Hun.
Believe me, Lord, I think he cannot chuse.
2 Hun.
It would seem strange unto him, when he wak'd.
Lord.
Even as a flatt'ring 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 heav'nly 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; a third a diaper;
And say, wilt 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;
Perswade him, that he hath been lunatick.
And when he says he is,—say, that he dreams;
For he is nothing but a mighty lord:
This do, and do it kindly, gentle Sirs:
It will be pastime passing excellent,
If it be husbanded with modesty.
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. Sound Trumpets.
-- 275 --
Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds.
Belike, some noble gentleman that means,
[Ex. Servant.
Travelling some journey, to repose him here.
Re-Enter Servant.
How now? who is it?
Ser.
An't please your Honour, Players
That offer service to your lordship.
Lord.
Bid them come near:
Enter Players.
Now, fellows, you are welcome.
Play.
We thank your Honour.
Lord.
Do you intend to stay with me to night?
2 Play.
So please your Lordship to accept our duty.
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.
Sim.
I think, 'twas Soto that your Honour means.(4) note
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.
Play.
Fear not, my lord, we can contain our selves;
-- 276 --
Were he the veriest antick in the world.
2 Player. [to the other.]
Go get a dishclout to make
clean your shoes, and I'll speak for the properties.
[Exit Player.
My lord, we must have a shoulder of mutton for a property,
and a little vinegar to make our devil roar.
Lord.
Go sirrah, take them to the buttery.
And give them friendly Wellcome, ev'ry one:
Let them want nothing that the house affords.
[Exit one with the Players.
Sirrah, go you to Bartholmew my page,
And see him drest in all suits like a lady.
That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber,
And call him Madam, do him all 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 tongue, and lowly courtesie;
And say; what is't your Honour will command,
Wherein your lady, and your humble wife,
May shew 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 twice seven years hath esteem'd himself(5) note
-- 277 --
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar:
And if the boy have not a woman's gift
To rain a shower of commanded tears,
An onion will do well for such a shift;
Which, in a napkin being close convey'd,
Shall in despight enforce a wat'ry eye.
See this dispatch'd, with all the hast thou canst;
Anon I'll give thee more instructions.
[Ex. Servant.
I know, the boy will well usurp the grace,
Voice, gate, 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 go into extreams.
[Exit Lord.
Scene 2
SCENE changes to a Bedchamber in the Lord's House.
Enter Sly with attendants, some with apparel, bason and
ewer, and other appurtenances. Reenter Lord.
Sly.
For God's sake, a pot of small ale.
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 to day?
Sly.
I am Christophero Sly, call not me Honour, nor
lordship: I ne'er 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 over-leather.
Lord.
Heav'n cease this idle humour in your Honour!
-- 278 --
Oh, that a 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
Christophero Sly, old Sly's Son of Burton-heath, by birth
a pedler, by education a card-maker, by transmutation
a bearherd, and now by present profession a tinker?
ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she
know me not; if she say, I am not fourteen pence on
the score for sheer ale, score me up for the lying'st
knave in Christendom. What, I am not bestraught:
here's—
1 Man.
Oh, this it is, that makes your lady mourn.
2 Man.
Oh, 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.
Oh, 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 bestrow 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 Man.
Say, thou wilt course, thy greyhounds are as swift
As breathed stags; ay, fleeter than the roe.
2 Man.
Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee strait
Adonis, painted by a running brook;
-- 279 --
And Citherea all in sedges hid;
Which seem to move, and wanton with her breath,
Ev'n as the waving sedges play with wind.
Lord.
We'll shew thee Io, as she was a maid.
And how she was beguiled and surpris'd,
As lively painted as the deed was done.
3 Man.
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 waining age.
1 Man.
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 dreamed 'till now?
I do not sleep; I see, I hear, I speak;
I smell sweet favours, 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' th' smallest ale.
2 Man.
Will't please your Mightiness to wash your hands?
Oh, how we joy to see your wits restor'd!
Oh, 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 Man.
Oh, yes, my Lord, but very idle words.
For tho' you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of door,
And rail'd upon the Hostess of the house;
And say, you would present her at the Leet,
Because she bought stone-jugs, and no seal'd quarts:
-- 280 --
Sometimes, you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
Sly.
Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
3 Man.
Why, Sir, you know no house; nor no such maid;
Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd up;
(6) note
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell,
And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.
Sly.
Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends!
All.
Amen.—
Sly.
By th' Mass, I think, I am a Lord indeed.
What is thy name?
Man.
Sim, an't please your Honour.
Sly.
Sim? that's as much as to say, Simeon or Simon;
put forth thy hand and fill the pot.
[The Servant gives him Drink.
Enter Lady, with attendants.
I thank thee;—thou shalt not lose by it.
Lady.
How fares my noble Lord?
Sly.
Marry, I fare well, for here is cheer enough.
Where is my wife?
Lady.
Here, noble Lord, what is thy will with her?
Sly.
Are you my wife, and will not call me husband?
My men should call me lord, I am your good
man.
Lady.
My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;
I am your wife in all obedience.
Sly.
I know it well: what must I call her?
-- 281 --
Lord.
Madam.
Sly.
Alce madam, or Joan madam?
Lord.
Madam, and nothing else, so lords call ladies.
Sly.
Come, sit down on my knee. Sim, drink to
her. Madam wife, they say, that I have dream'd, and
slept above some fifteen years and more.
Lady.
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 bed. Sim,
drink to her.
Lady.
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 expresly 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 dream again:
I will therefore tarry in despight of the flesh
and the blood.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
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; is it not a Commodity?
a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling trick?
Lady.
No, my good Lord, it is more pleasing stuff.
Sly.
What, houshold stuff?
Lady.
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.
-- 282 --
The Taming of the Shrew.
ACT I.
Scene 1
SCENE, a Street in PADUA.
Flourish. Enter Lucentio and Tranio.
Lucentio.
Tranio, since for the great desire I had
To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,
I am arriv'd from fruitful Lombardy,(7) note
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 haply institute
A course of learning, and ingenious studies.
Pisa, renowned for grave citizens,
Gave me my Being; and my father first,
A merchant of great traffick through the world:
Vincentio's come of the Bentivolii,
Vincentio his son, brought up in Florence,
It shall become to serve all hopes conceiv'd,
-- 283 --
To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds:
And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,
Virtue and that part of philosophy
Will I apply, that treats of happiness,
By virtue specially to be atchiev'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.
Me pardonato, gentle master mine,
I am in all affected as your self:
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 checks,
As Ovid be an Outcast quite abjur'd.
Talk logick with acquaintance that you have,
And practise rhetorick in your common talk;
Musick and Poesie use to quicken you;
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 a while, what company is this?
Tra.
Master, some show to welcome us to town.
Enter Baptista with Catharina and Bianca, Gremio and Hortensio. Lucentio and Tranio stand by.
Bap.
Gentlemen Both, importune me no farther,
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 Catharina,
-- 284 --
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:
There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife?
Cath.
I pray you, Sir, is it your will
To make a Stale of me amongst these mates?
Hor.
Mates, maid, how mean you that? no mates for you;
Unless you were of gentler milder mould.
Cath.
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 shall 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. aside.
Hush, master, here's some good pastime toward;
That wench is stark mad, or wonderful froward.
Luc. aside.
But in the other's silence I do see
Maid's mild behaviour and sobriety.
Peace, Tranio.
Tra. aside.
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.
Cath.
A pretty Peat! it is best put finger in the eye,
an she knew why.
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 my self.
Luc.
Hark, Tranio, thou may'st hear Minerva speak.
[aside.
Hor.
Signior Baptista, will you be so strange?
Sorry am I, that our good will effects
Bianca's grief.
-- 285 --
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;
School-masters 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 men
I will be very kind; and liberal
To mine own children, in good bringing up;
And so farewel. Catharina, you may stay,
For I have more to commune with Bianca.
[Exit.
Cath.
Why, and, I trust, I may go too, may I
not? what, shall I be appointed hours, as tho', belike,
I knew not what to take, and what to leave? ha!
[Exit.
Gre.
You may go to the devil's dam: your gifts are
so good, here is none will hold you. Our love is not
so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together,
and fast it fairly out. Our cake's dow on both
sides. Farewel; 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 Father.
Hor.
So will I, Signior Gremio: but a word, I pray;
tho' the nature of our quarrel never yet brook'd Parle,
know now, upon advice, it toucheth 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, tho'
her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool to
be married to hell?
-- 286 --
Hor.
Tush, Gremio; tho' it pass your patience and
mine to endure her loud alarms, why, man, there be
good fellows in the world, an a man could light on
them, would take her with all her faults, and mony
enough.
Gre.
I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry
with this condition, to be whip'd at the high-cross
every morning.
Hor.
'Faith, as you say, there's a small choice in rotten
apples: but, come, since this bar in law makes us
friends, it shall be so far forth friendly maintain'd, '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 dole; he
that runs fastest gets the ring; how say you, Signior
Gremio?
Gre.
I am agreed; and would I had given him the
best horse in Padua to begin his wooing, that would
throughly wooe her, wed her, and bed her, and rid
the house of her. Come on.
[Exeunt Gremio and Hortensio.
Manent Tranio and Lucentio.
Tra.
I pray, Sir, tell me, is it possible
That love should on a sudden take such hold?
Luc.
Oh 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 th' 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 atchieve 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 rated from the heart.
If love hath touch'd you, nought remains but so,
Redime te captum quàm queas minimo.
-- 287 --
Luc.
Gramercy, lad; go forward, this contents;
The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound.
Tra.
Master, you look'd so longly 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 Agenor 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 wit t' atchieve her. Thus it stands:
Her eldest Sister is so curst and shrewd,
That till the Father rids 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'd 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 school-masters t' 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 school-master,
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?
-- 288 --
Luc.
Basta;—content thee; for I have it full.
We have not yet been seen in any house,
Nor can we be distinguish'd by our faces,
For man or master: then it follows thus.
Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead;
Keep house, and port, and servants, as I should.
I will some other be, some Florentine,
Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa.
'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, good 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,)
Altho', 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 t'atchieve 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 stoll'n your
cloaths, or you stoll'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 count'nance on,
And I for my escape have put on his:
For in a quarrel, since I came ashore,
I kill'd a man, and, fear, I am descry'd:
Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes;
While I make way from hence to save my life.
You understand me?
-- 289 --
Bion.
Ay, 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 I, '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 master Lucentio.
Luc.
Tranio, let's go: one thing more rests, that thy
self execute, to make one among these wooers; if
thou ask me why, sufficeth, my reasons are both good
and weighty.
[Exeunt.
Scene 2
SCENE, before Hortensio's House, in Padua.
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 the house;
Here, sirrah, Grumio, knock, I say.
Gru.
Knock, Sir? whom should I knock? is there
any man, has rebus'd your Worship?
Pet.
Villain, I say, knock me here soundly.
Gru.
Knock you here, 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.
Pet.
Will it not be?
Faith, sirrah, an you'll not knock, I'll ring it,
I'll try how you can Sol, Fa, and sing it.
[He wrings him by the Ears.
Gru.
Help, masters, help; my master is mad.
Pet.
Now knock, when I bid you: Sirrah! Villain!
-- 290 --
Enter Hortensio.
Hor.
How now, what's the matter? my old friend
Grumio, and my good friend Petruchio! how do you
all at Verona?
Pet.
Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray?
Con tutto el Core ben trovato, may I say.
Hor.
Alla nostra Casa ben venuto, molto honorato Signor mio Petruchio.
Rise, Grumio, rise; we will compound this quarrel.
Gru.
Nay, 'tis no matter, what he leges in Latine. If
this be not a lawful cause for me to 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 ought I see, two and
thirty, a pip out?
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 bid the rascal knock upon your gate,
And could not get him for my heart to do it.
Gru.
Knock at the gate? O heav'ns! spake you not
these words plain? sirrah, knock me here, rap me
here, knock me well, and knock me soundly: 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:
Why, this is a heavy chance 'twixt him and you,
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 farther than at home;
(8) noteWhere small experience grows, but in a few.
Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me,
-- 291 --
Antonio my Father is deceas'd;
And I have thrust my self into this maze,
Happly 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?
Thou'dst 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 us
Few words suffice; and therefore if you know
One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife;
(As wealth is burthen of my wooing dance)
Be she as foul as was Florentius' love,
As old as Sibyl, and as curst and shrewd
As Socrates' Xantippe, or a worse,
She moves me not; or not removes, at least,
Affection's edge in me. Were she as rough
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-baby, or an old Trot with
ne'er a tooth in her head, tho' she have as many diseases
as two and fifty horses; why, nothing comes amiss,
so mony comes withal.
Hor.
Petruchio, since we are stept 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 fault enough,
Is, that she is intolerable curst;
And shrewd, and froward, so beyond all measure,
That, were my state far worser than it is,
I would not wed her for a Mine of gold.
-- 292 --
Pet.
Hortensio, peace; thou know'st not gold's effect;
Tell me her Father's name, and 'tis enough:
For I will board her, tho' 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 Catharina Minola,
Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue.
Pet.
I know her Father, tho' 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-tricks. I'll tell you what, Sir, an she
stand him 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 cat: you know him
not, Sir.
Hor.
Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee,
For in Baptista's house my Treasure is:
He hath the jewel of my life in hold,
His youngest Daughter, beautiful Bianca;
(9) noteAnd her with-holds he from me, and others more
Suitors to her, and Rivals in my love:
Supposing it a thing impossible,
(For those defects I have before rehears'd,)
That ever Catharina will be woo'd;
Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en,
-- 293 --
That none shall have access unto Bianca,
'Till Catharine the curst have got a husband.
Gru.
Catharine 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 musick, to instruct Bianca;
That so I may by this device, at least,
Have leave and leisure to make love to her;
And, unsuspected, court her by her self.
Enter Gremio, and Lucentio disguis'd.
Gru.
Here's no knavery! see, to beguile the old
folks, how the young folks lay their heads together.
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.—
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 hand;
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 it self,
To whom they go: 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 assured;
As firmly, as your self were still in place;
Yea, and, perhaps, with more successful words
Than you, unless you were a scholar, Sir.
Gre.
Oh this learning, what a thing it is!
Gru.
Oh this woodcock, what an ass it is!—
Pet.
Peace, Sirrah.
Hor.
Grumio, mum! God save you, Signior Gremio.
Gre.
And you are well met, Signior Hortensio. Trow
you, whither I am going? to Baptista Minola; I promis'd
-- 294 --
to enquire carefully about a school-master for
the fair Bianca; 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 ye.
Hor.
'Tis well; and I have met a gentleman,
Hath promis'd me to help me 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.
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 wooe curst Catharine;
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.
Gre.
No, sayest me so, friend? what Countryman?
Pet.
Born in Verona, old Antonio's Son;
My Father's dead, my fortune lives for me,
And I do hope good days and long to see.
Gre.
Oh, 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 wooe this wild cat?
Pet.
Will I live?
Gru.
Will he wooe her? ay, or I'll hang her.
Pet.
Why came I hither, but to that intent?
Think you, a little din can daunt my 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 heav'n's artillery thunder in the skies?
-- 295 --
Have I not in a pitched battel heard
Loud larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets clangue?
And do you tell me of a woman's tongue,
That gives not half so great a blow to hear,
As will a chesnut in a farmer's fire?
Tush, tush, fear boys with bugs.
Gru.
For he fears none.—
Gre.
Hortensio, hark:
This Gentleman is happily arriv'd,
My mind presumes, for his own good, and ours.
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.
To them 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 he
you mean?
Tra.
Even he, Biondello.
Gre.
Hark you, Sir, you mean not her, to—
Tra.
Perhaps, him and her; what have you to do?
Pet.
Nor her that chides, Sir, at any hand, I pray.
Tra.
I love no chiders, Sir: Biondello, let's away.
Luc.
Well begun, Tranio.
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,
Do me this Right; hear me with patience.
-- 296 --
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,
Tho' 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 to 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 the other is 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 eldest Sister first be wed:
The younger then is free, and not before.
Tra.
If it be so, Sir, that you are the man
Must steed us all, and me amongst the rest;
And if you break the ice, and do this feat,
Atchieve 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,
You must, as we do, gratifie this Gentleman,
To whom we all rest generally beholden.
Tra.
(10) note
Sir, I shall not be slack; in sign whereof,
Please ye, we may convive this afternoon,
-- 297 --
And quaff carouses to our Mistress' health;
And do as adversaries do in law,
Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.
Gru. Bion.
O excellent motion: fellows, let's be gone.
Hor.
The motion's good indeed, and be it so,
Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto.
[Exeunt.
[The Presenters, above, speak here.
1 Man.
My Lord, you nod; you do not mind the Play.
Sly.
Yea, by St. Ann, do I: a good matter, surely!
comes there any more of it?
Lady.
My Lord, 'tis but begun.
Sly.
'Tis a very excellent piece of work, Madam Lady.
Would 'twere done!—
-- 298 --
ACT II.
Scene 1
SCENE, Baptista's House in Padua.
Enter Catharina and Bianca.
Bianca.
Good Sister, wrong me not, nor wrong your self,
To make a bond-maid and a slave of me;
That I disdain; (11) note
but for these other Gawds,
Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off my self;
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.
Cath.
Of all thy Suitors here, I charge thee, tell
Whom thou lov'st best: see, thou dissemble not.
Bian.
Believe me, Sister, of all men alive
I never yet beheld that special face,
-- 299 --
Which I could fancy more than any other.
Cath.
Minion, thou liest; is't not Hortensio?
Bian.
If you affect him, sister, here I swear,
I'll plead for you my self, but you shall have him.
Cath.
Oh, then, belike, you fancy riches more;
You will have Gremio, to keep you fair.
Bian.
Is it for him you do so envy me?
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.
Cath.
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 hilding of a devilish spirit,
Why dost thou wrong her, that did ne'er wrong thee?
When did she cross thee with a bitter word?
Cath.
Her silence flouts me; and I'll be reveng'd.
[Flies after Bianca.
Bap.
What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in.
[Ex. Bian.
Cath.
Will you not suffer me? 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 hell:
Talk not to me, I will go sit and weep,
'Till I can find occasion of revenge.
[Exit Cath.
Bap.
Was ever gentleman thus griev'd, as I?
But who comes here?
Enter Gremio, Lucentio in the habit of a mean man;
Petruchio with Hortensio, like a musician; Tranio
and Biondello bearing a lute and books.
Gre.
Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.
Bap.
Good morrow, neighbour Gremio: God save
you, gentlemen.
-- 300 --
Pet.
And you, good Sir; pray, have you not a
daughter call'd Catharina, fair and virtuous?
Bap.
I have a daughter, Sir, call'd Catharina.
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 shew my self 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,
[Presenting Hor.
I do present you with a man of mine,
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'are welcome, Sir, and he for your good sake.
But for my daughter Catharine, this I know,
She is not for your turn, the more's my grief.
Pet.
I see, you do not mean to part with her;
Or else you like not of my company.
Bap.
Mistake me not, I speak but what 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. Baccalare!—you are
marvellous forward.(12) note
-- 301 --
Pet.
Oh, pardon me, Signior Gremio, I would fain
be doing.(13) note
Gre.
I doubt it not, Sir, but you will curse your
wooing. Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I
am sure of it. To express the like kindness my self, that
have been more kindly beholden to you than any, free
leave give to this young scholar, that hath been long
studying at Reims, [Presenting Luc.] 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, methinks, you walk
like a stranger; [To Tranio.] 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 my self 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,
That, upon knowledge of my parentage,
I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo,
And free access and favour as the rest.
-- 302 --
And toward the education of your daughters,
I here bestow a simple Instrument,
And this small packet of Greek and Latin books.
If you accept them, then their worth is great.
[They greet privately.
Bap.
Lucentio is your name? of whence I pray?
Tra.
Of Pisa, Sir, son to Vincentio.
Bap.
A mighty man of Pisa; by Report
I know him well; you are very welcome, Sir.
Take You the lute, and You the Set of books,
[To Hortensio and Lucentio.
You shall go see your pupils presently.
Holla, within!—
Enter a servant.
Sirrah, lead these gentlemen
To my two daughters; and then tell them Both,
These are their tutors, bid them use them well.
[Exit Serv. with Hortensio and Lucentio.
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 your selves.
Pet.
Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,
And every day I cannot come to wooe.
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.
Pet.
And for that dowry, I'll assure her of
Her widowhood, 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,
That 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,
-- 303 --
They do consume the thing that feeds their fury:
Tho' little fire grows great with little wind,
Yet extream gusts will blow out fire and all:
So I to her, and so she yields to me,
For I am rough, and wooe not like a babe.
Bap.
Well may'st thou wooe, 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, tho' they blow perpetually.
Enter Hortensio with his head broke.
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 canst not break her to the lute?
Hor.
Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me.
I did but tell her, she mistook her frets,
And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering,
When, with a most impatient devilish spirit,
Frets call you them? 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, fidler,
And twangling Jack, with twenty such vile terms,
As she had 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;
Oh, 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,
-- 304 --
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?
Pet.
I pray you, do. I will attend her here:
[Exit Bap. with Grem. Horten. and Tranio.
And wooe 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 frowns; I'll say, she looks as clear
As morning roses newly wash'd with dew;
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 tho' she bid me stay by her a week;
If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day
When I shall ask the banes, and when be married?
But here she comes, and now Petruchio speak.
Enter Catharina.
Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear.
Cath.
Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing.
They call me Catharine, 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:
My Self am mov'd to wooe thee for my wife
Cath.
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.
Why, what's a moveable?
Cath.
A join'd stool.
Pet.
Thou hast hit it; come, sit on me.
-- 305 --
Cath.
Asses are made to bear, and so are you.
Pet.
Women are made to bear, and so are you.
Cath.
No such jade, Sir, as you; if me you mean.
Pet.
Alas, good Kate, I will not burthen thee;
For knowing thee to be but young and light—
Cath.
Too light for such a swain as you to catch;
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.
Pet.
Should bee;—should buz.—
Cath.
Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.
Pet.
Oh, slow-wing'd turtle, shall a buzzard take thee?
Cath.
Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.
Pet.
Come, come, you wasp, i'faith, you are too angry.
Cath.
If I be waspish, 'best beware my sting.
Pet.
My remedy is then to pluck it out.
Cath.
Ah, if the fool could find it, where it lies.
Pet.
Who knows not, where a wasp doth wear his sting?
In his tail.—
Cath.
In his tongue.
Pet.
Whose tongue?
Cath.
Yours, if you talk of tails; and so farewel.
Pet.
What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again,
Good Kate, I am a gentleman.
Cath.
That I'll try.
[She strikes him.
Pet.
I swear, I'll cuff you, if you strike again.
Cath.
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? oh, put me in thy books.
Cath.
What is your crest, a coxcomb?
Pet.
A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.
Cath.
No cock of mine, you crow too like a craven.
Pet.
Nay, come, Kate; come, you must not look so sower.
Cath.
It is my fashion, when I see a crab.
Pet.
Why, here's no crab, and therefore look not so sower.
-- 306 --
Cath.
There is, there is.
Pet.
Then shew it me.
Cath.
Had I a glass, I would.
Pet.
What, you mean my face?
Cath.
Well aim'd, of such a young one.—
Pet.
Now, by St. George, I am too young for you.
Cath.
Yet you are wither'd.
Pet.
'Tis with Cares.
Cath.
I care not.
Pet.
Nay, hear you, Kate; Insooth, you 'scape not so.
Cath.
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 can'st not look ascance,
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 conf'rence, soft and affable.
Why doth the world report, that Kate doth limp?
Oh sland'rous world! Kate, like the hazle twig,
Is strait, 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.
Cath.
Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command.
Pet.
Did ever Dian so become a grove,
As Kate this chamber with her princely gaite?
O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate,
And then let Kate be chast, and Dian sportful!—
Cath.
Where did you study all this goodly speech?
Pet.
It is extempore, from my mother-wit.
Cath.
A witty mother, witless else her son.
Pet.
Am I not wise?
Cath.
Yes; keep you warm.
Pet.
Why, so I mean, sweet Catharine, in thy bed:
And therefore setting all this chat aside,
-- 307 --
Thus in plain terms: your father hath consented,
That you shall be my wife; your dow'ry 'greed on,
And, will you, nill you, 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 cat to a Kate,
Conformable as other houshold Kates;
Here comes your father, never make denial,
I must and will have Catharine to my wife.
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 Catharine, in your dumps?
Pet.
Call you me daughter? now, I promise you,
You've shew'd a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one half lunatick;
A madcap ruffian, and a swearing Jack,
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.
Pet.
Father, 'tis thus; your self 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 Grissel;
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity.
And, to conclude, we've 'greed so well together,
That upon Sunday is the wedding day.
Cath.
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, Sirs, I chuse her for my self;
-- 308 --
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; oh, the kindest Kate!—
She hung about my neck, and kiss on kiss
She vy'd so fast, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twink she won me to her love.
Oh, you are novices; 'tis a world to see,
How tame (when men and women are alone)
A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.
Give me thy hand, Kate, I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding day;
Father, provide the feast, and bid the guests;
I will be sure, my Catharine shall be fine.
Bap.
I know not what to say, but give 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 a Sunday.
[Ex. Petruchio, and Catharine severally.
Gre.
Was ever match clapt up so suddenly?
Bap.
Faith, gentlemen, 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.
Bap.
The gain I seek is quiet in the match.
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.
Tra.
And I am one, that love Biancha more
Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.
Gre.
Youngling! thou canst not love so dear as I.
Tra.
Grey-beard! thy love doth freeze.
Gre.
But thine doth fry.
Skipper, stand back; 'tis age, that nourisheth.
Tra.
But youth, in ladies eyes that flourisheth.
-- 309 --
Bap.
Content you, Gentlemen, I will 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:
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;
In ivory coffers I have stufft my crowns;
In cypress chests my arras, counterpanes,
Costly apparel, tents and canopies,
Fine linnen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl;
Valance of Venice gold in needle-work;
Pewter and brass, and all things that belong
To house, or house-keeping: 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.
My self 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!(14) note
-- 310 --
My land amounts but to so much in all:
That she shall have, besides an Argosie
That now is lying in Marseilles's road.
What, have I choakt you with an Argosie?
Tra.
Gremio, 'tis known, my father hath no less
Than three great Argosies, besides two galliasses,
And twelve tight gallies; these I will assure her,
And twice as much, what e'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-vied.
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, then I am thus resolv'd:
On Sunday next, you know,
My daughter Catharine is to be married:
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 gamester, your father were a fool
To give thee all; and in his waining age
Set foot under thy table: tut! a toy!
An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy.
[Exit.
-- 311 --
Tra.
A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide!
Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten:
'Tis in my head to do my master good:
I see no reason, but suppos'd Lucentio
May 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 cunning.
[Exit.
—[The Presenters, above, speak here.
Sly.
Sim, when will the fool come again?
Sim.
Anon, my Lord.
Sly.
Give's some more drink here—where's the tapster?
here, Sim, eat some of these things.
Sim.
So I do, my Lord.
Sly.
Here, Sim, I drink to thee.
ACT III.
Scene 1
SCENE, Baptista's House.
Enter Lucentio, Hortensio, and Bianca.
Lucentio.
Fidler, forbear; you grow too forward, Sir:
Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
Her sister Catharine welcom'd you withal?
Hor.
[She is a Shrew, but,] Wrangling Pedant, this is(15) note
-- 312 --
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 ro read philosophy,
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 scholar in the schools;
I'll not be tied to hours, nor pointed times,
But learn my lessons as I please my self;
And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down,
Take you your instrument, play you the while;
His lecture will be done, ere you have tun'd.
Hor.
You'll leave his lecture, when I am in tune?
[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 before, 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, Priami, is my man
Tranio, regia, bearing my port, celsa senis, that we
might beguile the old Pantaloon.
Hor.
Madam, my instrument's in tune.
[Returning.
Bian.
Let's hear. O fie, the treble jars.
Luc.
Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.
-- 313 --
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 how froward is our Pedant!
Now, for my life, that knave doth court my love;
Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet.
Bian.
In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.(16) note
Luc.
Mistrust it not,—for, sure, Æacides
Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather.
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 masters, take it not unkindly, pray,
That I have been thus pleasant with you both.
Hor.
You may go walk, and give me leave a while;
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'd,
Our fine musician groweth amorous.
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. [reading.]
Gamut I am, the ground of all accord,
-- 314 --
Are, to plead Hortensio's passion;
B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord,
Cfaut, that loves with all affection;
D sol re, one cliff, but two notes have I.
Elami, show pity, or I die.
Call you this Gamut? tut, I like it not;
Old fashions please me best, I'm not so nice(17) note
To change true rules for odd inventions.
Enter a Servant.
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.
Farewel, sweet masters, both; I must be gone.
[Exit.
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 tho' he were in love:
Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble,
To cast thy wandring eyes on every Stale;
Seize thee, who list; if once I find thee ranging,
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing.
[Exit.
Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Catharina, Lucentio, Bianca, and attendants.
Bap.
Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed day
That Cath'rine and Petruchio should be married;
And yet we hear not of our son-in-law.
What will be said? what mockery will it be,
-- 315 --
To want the Bridegroom, when the Priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage?
What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?
Cath.
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 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, yes, and proclaim the banes;
Yet never means to wed, where he hath woo'd.
Now must the world point at poor Catharine,
And say, lo! there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her.
Tra.
Patience, good Catharine, and Baptista too;
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well;
What ever fortune stays him from his word.
Tho' he be blunt, I know him passing wise;
Tho' he be merry, yet withal he's honest.
Cath.
Would Catharine had never seen him tho'!
[Exit weeping.
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 humour.
Enter Biondello.
Bion.
Master, Master; old news, 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?
-- 316 --
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 turn'd; 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 stirrups of no kindred; besides, possest with
the glanders, and like to mose in the chine, troubled
with the lampasse, infected with the fashions, full of
windgalls, sped with spavins, raied with the yellows,
past cure of the fives, stark spoiled with the staggers,
begnawn with the bots, waid in the back and shoulder-shotten,
near-legg'd before, and with a half-checkt bit,
and a headstall of sheep's leather, which being restrain'd,
to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst,
and now repair'd with knots; one girt 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 packthread.
Bap.
Who comes with him?
Bion.
Oh, Sir, his lackey, for all the world caparison'd
like the horse, with a linnen stock on one leg, and
a kersey boot-hose on the other, garter'd with a red
and blue list, an old hat, and the humour of forty
fancies prickt up in't for a feather: a monster, a very
monster in apparel, and not like a christian footboy,
or a gentleman's lackey.
Tra.
'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion;
Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell'd.
Bap.
I am glad he's come, howsoever 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.
-- 317 --
Bap.
Why, that's all one.
Bion.
Nay, by St. Jamy, I hold you a penny,
A horse and a man is more than one, and yet not many.
Enter Petruchio and Grumio fantastically habited.
Pet.
Come, where be these gallants? who is at home?
Bap.
You're welcome, Sir.
Pet.
And yet I come not well.
Bap.
And yet you halt not.
Tra.
Not so well 'parell'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.
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 your self?
Pet.
Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear:
Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word,
Tho' in some part enforced to digress,
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 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 ha' done with words;
To me she's married, not unto my cloaths:
Could I repair what she will wear in me,
-- 318 --
As I could change these poor accoutrements,
'Twere well for Kate, and better for my self.
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?
[Exit.
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.
Tra.
But, Sir, our love 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 school-master
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 my 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 gray-beard Gremio,
The narrow-prying Father Minola,
The quaint musician amorous Licio;
All for my master's sake, Lucentio.
Enter Gremio.
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.
-- 319 --
Gre.
Tut, she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him:
I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio; when the Priest
Should ask, if Catharine should be his wife?
Ay, by gogs-woons, 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.
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
H'ad been aboard carowsing to his Mates
After a storm; quafft off the muscadel,
And threw the sops all in the sexton's face;
Having no other cause, but that his beard
Grew thin and hungerly, and seem'd to ask
His sops as he was drinking. This done, he took
The Bride about the neck, and kist her lips
With such a clamorous smack, that at the parting
All the church echo'd; and I seeing this,
Came thence for very shame; and after me,
I know, the rout is coming: Such a mad marriage
Ne'er was before.—Hark, hark, I hear the minstrels.
[Musick plays.
Enter Petruchio, Catharina, Bianca, Hortensio, and Baptista.
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,
-- 320 --
You would entreat me rather go than stay.
And, honest Company, I thank you all,
That have beheld me give away my self
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 intreat you stay 'till after dinner.
Pet.
It may not be.
Gre.
Let me intreat you.
Pet.
It cannot be.
Cath.
Let me intreat you.
Pet.
I am content—
Cath.
Are you content to stay?
Pet.
I am content, you shall intreat me, stay;
But yet not stay, intreat me how you can.
Cath.
Now, if you love me, stay.
Pet.
Grumio, my horses.
Gru.
Ay, Sir, they be ready: the oats have eaten
the horses.
Cath.
Nay, then,
Do what thou canst, I will not go to day;
No, nor to morrow, nor 'till I please my self:
The door is open, Sir, there lyes your way,
You may be jogging, while your boots are green;
For me, I'll not go, 'till I please my self:
'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.
Cath.
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.
Cath.
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;
Carowse full measure to her maiden-head;
Be mad and merry, or go hang your selves;
But for my bonny Kate, she must with me.
-- 321 --
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 horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing;
And here she stands, touch her who ever 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 Pet. and Cath.
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 her self, she's madly mated.
Gre.
I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated.
Bap.
Neighbours and Friends, tho' Bride and Bridegroom want
For to supply the places at the table;
You know, there wants no junkets at the feast:
Lucentio, you 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: Gentlemen, let's go.
[Exeunt.
-- 322 --
ACT IV.
Scene 1
SCENE, Petruchio's Country House.
Enter Grumio.
Grumio.
Fie, fie on all tired jades, and all mad masters,
and all foul ways! was ever man so beaten? was
ever man so raide? was ever man so weary? I
am sent before, to make a fire; and they are coming
after, to warm them: now were I not 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 my self; for considering
the weather, a taller man than I will take cold: holla,
hoa, Curtis!
Enter Curtis.
Curt.
Who is it 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.
Oh, ay, Curtis, ay; and therefore fire, fire;
cast on no water.
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 tam'd my old master, and my new mistress,
and my self, fellow Curtis.
Curt.
Away, you three-inch'd fool; I am no beast.
Gru.
(18) noteAm I but three inches? why, my horn is
a foot, and so long am I at the least. But wilt thou
-- 323 --
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.
Curt.
There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio,
the news.
Gru.
Why, Jack boy, ho boy, and as much news
as thou wilt.
Curt.
Come, you are so full of conycatching.
Gru.
Why, therefore, fire; for I have caught extream
cold. 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, carpets laid,
and every thing in order?
Curt.
All ready: and therefore, I pray thee, what
news?
Gru.
First, know, my horse is tired, my master and
mistress fall'n out.
Curt.
How?
Gru.
Out of their laddles into the dirt; and thereby
hangs a tale.
Curt.
Let's ha't, good Grumio.
Gru.
Lend thine ear.
Curt.
Here.
Gru.
There.
[Strikes him.
Curt.
This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.
Gru.
And therefore 'tis call'd a sensible tale: and
this cuff was but to knock at your ear, and beseech
listning. Now I begin: imprimis, we came down a
foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress.
-- 324 --
Curt.
Both on one horse?
Gru.
What's that to thee?
Curt.
Why, a horse.
Gru.
Tell thou the tale.—But hadst thou not
crost 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 bemoil'd, 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 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.
Curt.
By this reckoning 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, Sugersop, and the rest: let their heads be sleekly
comb'd, their blue coats brush'd, and their garters
of an indifferent knit; let them curt'sie 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 call'st for company to
countenance her.
Curt.
I call them forth to credit her.
Enter four or five Serving-men.
Gru.
Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them.
Nat.
Welcome home, Grumio.
Phil.
How, now, Grumio?
Jos.
What, Grumio!
-- 325 --
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?
Nat.
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 Kate.
Pet.
Where be these knaves? what, no man at door
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 loggerheaded 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 not I 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 Servants.
Where is the life that late I led?
Where are those—sit down, Kate,
And welcome. Soud, soud, soud, soud.
Enter Servants with Supper.
Why, when, I say? nay, good sweet Kate, be merry.
Off with my boots, you rogue: you villains, when?
-- 326 --
It was the Friar of Orders grey,
[Sings.
As he forth walked on his way.
Out, out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry.
Take that, and mind the plucking off the other.
[Strikes him.
Be merry, Kate: some water here; what hoa!
Enter one with water.
Where's my spaniel Troilus? sirrah, get you hence,
And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither:
One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted with,
Where are my slippers? shall I have some water?
Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily:
You whoreson villain, will you let it fall?
Cath.
Patience, I pray you, 'twas a fault unwilling.
Pet.
A whoreson, beatle-headed, 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 Ser.
Yes.
Pet.
Who brought it?
Ser.
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.
You headless jolt-heads, and unmanner'd slaves!
What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight.
Cath.
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 expresly am forbid to touch it:
For it engenders choler, planteth anger;
And better 'twere, that Both of us did fast,
Since, of our selves, our selves are cholerick,
Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh:
Be patient, for to morrow't shall be mended,
-- 327 --
And for this night we'll fast for company.
Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber.
[Exe.
Enter Servants severally.
Nath.
Peter, didst ever see the like?
Peter.
He kills her in her own humour.
Gru.
Where is he?
Enter Curtis, a Servant.
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.
Enter Petruchio.
Pet.
Thus have I politickly begun my reign,
And 'tis my hope to end successfully:
My faulcon now is sharp, and passing empty,
And till she stoop, she must not be full-gorg'd,
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 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, that way the sheets;
Ay; and, amid this hurly, I'll pretend,
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;—
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 shew.
[Exit.
-- 328 --
Scene 2
SCENE, before Baptista's House.
Enter Tranio and Hortensio.
Is't possible, friend Licio, that Bianca(19) note
Doth fancy any other but Lucentio?
I tell you, Sir, she bears me fair in hand.
Hor.
To satisfy you, Sir, in what I said,
Stand by, and mark the manner of his teaching.
[They stand by.
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 of love.
Bian.
And may you prove, Sir, master of your art!
Luc.
While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart.
[They retire backward.
Hor.
Quick proceeders! marry! now, tell me, I
pray, you that durst swear that your mistress Bianca
lov'd none in the world so well as Lucentio.
-- 329 --
Tra.
O despightful 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 cullion;
Know, Sir, that I am call'd Hortensio.
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 withal.
Tra.
And here I take the like unfeigned oath,
Never to marry her, tho' she intreat.
Fie on her! see, how beastly she doth court him.
Hor.
Would all the world, but he, had quite forsworn her!
For me, that I may surely keep mine oath,
I will be married to a wealthy widow,
Ere three days pass, which has as long lov'd me,
As I have lov'd this proud disdainful haggard.
And so farewel, 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. Hor.
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.
[Lucentio and Bianca come forward.
Bian.
Tranio, you jest: but have you both forsworn me?
Tra.
Mistress, we have.
-- 330 --
Luc.
Then we are rid of Licio.
Tra.
I'faith, he'll have a lusty widow now,
That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day.
Bian.
God give him joy!
Tra.
Ay, and he'll tame her.
Bian.
He says so, Tranio.
Tra.
'Faith, he's gone unto the taming school.
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 tongue.
Enter Biondello, running.
Bion.
Oh master, master, I have watch'd so long,
That I'm dog-weary; but at last I spied(20) note
An ancient Engle, going down the hill,
Will serve the turn.
Tra.
What is he, Biondello?
Bion.
Master, a mercantant, or else a pedant;
-- 331 --
I know not what; but formal in apparel;(21) note
In gate and countenance surly like a father.
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 him assurance to Baptista Minola,
As if he were the right Vincentio:
Take in your love, and then let me alone.
[Ex. Luc. and Bian.
Enter a Pedant.
Ped.
God save you, Sir.
Tra.
And you, Sir; you are welcome:
Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest?
Ped.
Sir, at the farthest for a week or two;
But then up farther, 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? God forbid!
And come to Padua, careless of your Life?
Ped.
My life, Sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard.
Tra.
'Tis death for any one in Mantua
To come to Padua; 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 mony by exchange
From Florence, and must here deliver them.
Tra.
Well, Sir, to do you courtesie,
This will I do, and this will I advise you;
-- 332 --
First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa?
Ped.
Ay, Sir, in Pisa have I often been;
Pisa renowned for grave citizens.
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 count'nance 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 court'sie, Sir, accept of it.
Ped.
Oh, 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 assurance of a dowre in marriage
'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here:
In all these Circumstances I'll instruct you:
Go with Me, Sir, to cloath you as becomes you.
[Exeunt.
Enter Catharina and Grumio.
Gru.
No, no, forsooth, I dare not for my life.
Cath.
The more my wrong, the more his spite appears:
What, did he marry me to famish me?
Beggars, that come unto my father's door,
Upon intreaty, have a present alms;
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity:
But I, who never knew how to intreat,
-- 333 --
Nor never needed that I should intreat,
Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep;
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed;
And that, which spights me more than all these wants,
He does it under name of perfect love:
As who would 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?
Cath.
'Tis passing good; I pr'ythee, let me have it.
Gru.
I fear, it is too flegmatick a meat:
How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd?
Cath.
I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me.
Gru.
I cannot tell;—I fear, it's cholerick:
What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
Cath.
A dish, that I do love to feed upon.
Gru.
Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.
Cath.
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.
Cath.
Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.
Gru.
Why, then the mustard without the beef.
Cath.
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 and Hortensio, with meat.
Pet.
How fares my Kate? what Sweeting, all amort?
Hor.
Mistress, what cheer?
Cath.
'Faith, as cold as can be.
Pet.
Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully upon me;
Here, love, thou seest how diligent I am,
To dress thy meat my self, and bring it thee:
I'm sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.
What, not a word? nay then, thou lov'st it not:
-- 334 --
And all my pains is sorted to no proof.
Here take away the dish.
Cath.
I pray you, let it stand.
Pet.
The poorest service is repaid with thanks,
And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.
Cath.
I thank you, Sir.
Hor.
Signior Petruchio, fie, you are to blame:
Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.
Pet.
Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest 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 fardingals, and things;
With scarfs, and fans, and double change of brav'ry,
With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery.
What, hast thou din'd; the taylor stays thy leisure,
To deck thy body with his rustling treasure.
Enter Taylor.
Come, taylor, let us see these ornaments.
Enter Haberdasher.
Lay forth the gown. What news with you, Sir?
Hab.
Here is the cap, your worship did bespeak.
Pet.
Why, this was moulded on a porringer,
A velvet dish; fie, fie, 'tis lewd and filthy:
Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell,
A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap.
Away with it, come, let me have a bigger.
Cath.
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,
And not 'till then.
Hor.
That will not be in haste.
Cath.
Why, Sir, I trust, I may have leave to speak,
And speak I will. I am no child, no babe;
Your betters have endur'd me say my mind;
-- 335 --
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 utmost as I please in words.
Pet.
Why, thou say'st true, it is a paltry cap,
A custard coffin, a bauble, a silken pie;
I love thee well, in that thou lik'st it not.
Cath.
Love me, or love me not, I like the cap;
And I will have it, or I will have none.
Pet.
Thy gown? why, ay; come, taylor, let us see't.
O mercy, heav'n, what masking stuff is here?
What? 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 censer in a barber's shop:
Why, what a devil's name, taylor, call'st thou this?
Hor.
I see, she's like to've neither cap nor gown.
[Aside.
Tay.
You bid me make it orderly and well,
According to the fashion of the time.
Pet.
Marry, and did: but if you be remembred,
I did not bid you marr 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.
Cath.
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.
Tay.
She says, your Worship means to make a puppet
of her.
Pet.
Oh most monstrous arrogance!
Thou lyest, thou thread, thou thimble,
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 thee with thy yard,
-- 336 --
As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv'st:
I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.
Tay.
Your Worship is deceiv'd, the gown is made
Just as my master had direction.
Grumio gave order how it should be done.
Gru.
I gave him no order, I gave him the stuff.
Tay.
But how did you desire it should be made?
Gru.
Marry, Sir, with needle and thread.
Tay.
But did you not request to have it cut?
Gru.
Thou hast fac'd many things.
Tay.
I have.
Gru.
Face not me: thou hast brav'd many men,
brave not me; I will neither be fac'd, nor brav'd. I
say unto thee, I bid thy master cut out the gown,
but I did not bid him cut it to pieces. Ergo, thou
liest.
Tay.
Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify.
Pet.
Read it.
Gru.
The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so.
Tay.
Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown.
Gru.
Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sow
me up in the skirts of it, and beat me to death with
a bottom of brown thread: I said a gown.
Pet.
Proceed.
Tay.
With a small compast cape.
Gru.
I confess the cape.
Tay.
With a trunk-sleeve.
Gru.
I confess two sleeves.
Tay.
The sleeves curiously cut.
Pet.
Ay, there's the villany.
Gru.
Error i'th' bill, Sir, error i'th' bill: I commanded,
the sleeves should be cut out, and sow'd up
again; and that I'll prove upon thee, tho' thy little
finger be armed in a thimble.
Tay.
This is true, that I say; an I had thee in place
where, thou shou'dst know it.
Gru.
I am for thee straight: take thou the bill,
give me thy meet-yard, and spare not me.
Hor.
God-amercy, Grumio, then he shall have no odds.
-- 337 --
Pet.
Well, Sir, in brief the gown is not for me.
Gru.
You are i'th' 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's
gown for thy master's use!
Pet.
Why, Sir, what's your conceit in that?
Gru.
Oh, Sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for;
Take up my mistress's gown unto his master's use!
Oh, fie, fie, fie.
Pet.
Hortensio, say, thou wilt see the taylor paid.
[Aside.
Go take it hence, be gone, and say no more.
Hor.
Taylor, 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 Tay.
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.
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?
Oh, 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.
Cath.
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.
-- 338 --
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.
[Exeunt Pet. Cath. and Hor.
[The Presenters, above, speak here.
Lord.
Who's within there?
[Sly sleeps.
Enter Servants.
Asleep again! go take him easily up, and put him in his
own apparel again. But see, you wake him not in any case.
Serv.
It shall he done; my Lord, come help to bear him
hence.
[They bear off Sly.
Scene 3
SCENE, before Baptista's House.
Enter Tranio, and the Pedant drest like Vincentio.
Tranio.
Sir, this is the house, please it you, that I call?
Ped.
Ay, what else! and (but I be deceived,)
Signior Baptista may remember me
Near twenty years ago in Genoa,
Where we were lodgers, at the Pegasus.(22) note
Tra.
'Tis well, and hold your own in any case
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.
-- 339 --
Bion.
Tut, fear not me.
Tra.
But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista?
Bion.
I told him that your father was in Venice,
And that you look'd for him this day in Padua.
Tra.
Th'art a tall fellow, hold thee that to drink;
Here comes Baptista; set your countenance, Sir.
Enter Baptista and Lucentio.
Tra.
Signior Baptista, you are happily met:
Sir, 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,
Me shall you find most ready and most willing
With one consent to have her so bestowed:
For curious I cannot be with you,
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 dowry,
The match is made, and all is done,
Your son shall have my daughter with consent.
Tra.
I thank you, Sir. Where then do you know best,
-- 340 --
Be we affied; 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 hearkning still;
And, haply, then we might be interrupted.
Tra.
Then at my lodging, an it like you, Sir,
There doth my father lye; 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. Go, Cambio, hie you home,
And bid Bianca make her ready straight:
And if you will, tell what hath happen'd here:
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 heart!
[Ex.
Tra.
Dally not, with the Gods, but get thee gone.
Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way?
Welcome! one mess is like to be your cheer.
Come, Sir, we will better it in Pisa.
Bap.
I'll follow you.
[Exeunt.
Enter Lucentio and Biondello.
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 ha's left me here behind
to expound the meaning or moral 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.
-- 341 --
Luc.
And then?
Bion.
The old Priest at St. Luke's Church is at your
command at all hours.
Luc.
And what of all this?
Bion.
I cannot tell, except they are busied about a
counterfeit assurance; take you assurance of her, Cum
privilegio ad imprimendum solùm; to th' Church take
the Priest, Clark, and some sufficient honest witnesses:
If this be not that you look for, I have no more to say,
But bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day.
Luc.
Hear'st thou, Biondello?
Bion.
I cannot tarry; I knew a wench married in
an afternoon as she went to the garden for parsly to
stuff a rabbet; 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.
[Exit.
Scene 4
SCENE, a green Lane.
Enter Petruchio, Catharina, and Hortensio.
Pet.
Come on, o'God's name, once more tow'rds our Father's.
Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the Moon!
Cath.
The Moon! the Sun; it is not Moon-light now.
Pet.
I say, it is the Moon that shines so bright.
Cath.
I know, it is the Sun that shines so bright.
Pet.
Now by my mother's son, and that's my self,
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 crost and crost, nothing but crost!
Hor.
Say, as he says, or we shall never go.
-- 342 --
Cath.
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.
I say, it is the Moon.
Cath.
I know, it is the Moon.
Pet.
Nay, then you lye; it is the blessed Sun.
Cath.
Then, God be blest, 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 so for Catharine.
Hor.
Petruchio, go thy way, the field is won.
Pet.
Well, forward, forward, thus the bowl should run;
And not unluckily against the bias:
But soft, some company is coming here.
Enter Vincentio.
Good morrow, gentle Mistress, where away?
[To Vincentio.
Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,
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 heav'nly face?
Fair lovely Maid, once more good day to thee:
Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake.
Hor.
He will make the man mad, to make a woman
of him.
Cath.
Young budding Virgin, fair, and fresh, and sweet,
Whither away, or where is thy aboad?
(23) note
Happy the parents of so fair a child;
Happier the man, whom favourable stars
Allot thee for his lovely bedfellow!
-- 343 --
Pet.
Why, how now, Kate, I hope, thou art not mad!
This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, withered,
And not a maiden, as, thou say'st, he is.
Cath.
Pardon, old Father, my mistaken eyes;
That have been so bedazled with the sun,
That every thing I look on seemeth green.
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 travellest; if along with us,
We shall be joyful of thy company.
Vin.
Fair Sir, and you my merry Mistress,
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
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 of 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.
-- 344 --
Pet.
Come, go along, and see the truth hereof:
For our first merriment hath made thee jealous.
[Exe.
Hor.
Well, Petruchio, this hath put me in heart.
Have to my widow; and if she be froward,
Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward.
[Exit.
ACT V.
Scene 1
SCENE, before Lucentio's House.
Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianca, Gremio walking on one side.
Bion.
Softly and swiftly, Sir, for the Priest is ready.
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,
(24) noteand then come back to my Master as soon as I
can.
[Exit.
Gre.
I marvel, Cambio comes not all this while.
Enter Petruchio, Catharina, Vincentio and Grumio, with attendants.
Pet.
Sir, here's the door, this is Lucentio's house,
My Father's bears more towards the Market-place;
Thither must I, and here I leave you, Sir.
Vin.
You shall not chuse but drink before you go;
I think, I shall command your welcome here;
And by all likelihood some cheer is toward.
[Knock.
Gre.
They're busie within, you were best knock
louder.
[Pedant looks out of the window.
-- 345 --
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?
Ped.
Keep your hundred pounds to your self, he
shall need none as long as I live.
Pet.
Nay, I told you, your Son was belov'd 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.
Ped.
Thou liest; his Father is come to Padua, and
here looking out of the window.
Vin.
Art thou his Father?
Ped.
Ay, Sir, so his Mother says, if I may believe
her.
Pet.
Why, how now, Gentleman! why, this is flat
knavery to take upon you another man's name.
Ped.
Lay hands on the villain. I believe, he means
to cozen somebody in this City under my countenance.
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, crackhemp.
[Seeing Biondello.
Bion.
I hope, I may chuse, Sir.
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 Vincentio?
Bion.
What, my old worshipful old master? yes,
marry, Sir, see where he looks out of the window.
Vin.
Is't so indeed?
[He beats Biondello.
-- 346 --
Bion.
Help, help, help, here's a mad-man will murther
me.
Ped.
Help, Son; help, Signior Baptista.
Pet.
Pr'ythee, Kate, let's stand aside, and see the
end of this controversie.
[They retire.
Enter Pedant with Servants, Baptista and Tranio.
Tra.
Sir, what are you, that offer to beat my servant?
Vin.
What am I, Sir; nay, what are you, Sir? oh,
immortal Gods! oh, fine villain! a silken doublet, a
velvet hose, a scarlet cloak and a copatain hat: oh,
I am undone! I am undone! while I play the good
husband at home, my son and my servants spend all at
the University.
Tra.
How now, what's the matter?
Bap.
What, is this man lunatick?
Tra.
Sir, you seem a sober ancient Gentleman by
your habit, but your words shew a mad-man; 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! oh villain, he is a sail-maker in
Bergamo.
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! oh, he hath murthered his Master;
lay hold of him, I charge you, in the Duke's name;
oh, my son, my son, tell me, thou villain, where is
my son Lucentio?
Tra.
Call forth an Officer; carry this mad knave to
the jail; Father Baptista, I charge you, see, that he be
forth-coming.
Vin.
Carry me to jail?
-- 347 --
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 cony-catch'd
in this business; I dare swear, this is the right
Vincentio.
Ped.
Swear, if thou dar'st.
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 jail with him!
Enter Lucentio and Bianca.
Vin.
Thus strangers may be hal'd and abus'd; oh,
monstrous villain!
Bion.
Oh, we are spoil'd, and yonder he is, deny
him, forswear him, or else we are all undone.
[Exeunt Biondello, Tranio and Pedant.
Luc.
Pardon, sweet Father.
[Kneeling.
Vin.
Lives my sweet Son?
Bian.
Pardon, dear Father.
Bap.
How hast thou offended? where is Lucentio?
Luc.
Here's Lucentio, right Son to the right Vincentio,
That have by marriage made thy Daughter mine:
While counterfeit supposers bleer'd thine eyne.
Gre.
Here's packing with a witness to deceive us all.
Vin.
Where is that damn'd 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,
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, my self enforc'd him to;
Then pardon him, sweet Father, for my sake.
-- 348 --
Vin.
I'll slit the villain's nose, that would have sent
me to the jail.
Bap.
But do you hear, Sir, 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 reveng'd on this villain.
[Exit.
Bap.
And I to sound the depth of this knavery.
[Exit.
Luc.
Look not pale, Bianca, thy Father will not frown.
[Exeunt.
Gre.
My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest,
Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast.
[Exit.
[Petruchio and Catharina, advancing.
Cath.
Husband, let's follow, to see the end of this
ado.
Pet.
First kiss me, Kate, and we will.
Cath.
What, in the midst of the street?
Pet.
What, art thou asham'd of me?
Cath.
No, Sir, God forbid! but asham'd to kiss.
Pet.
Why, then let's home again: come, sirrah, let's away.
Cath.
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 2
SCENE changes to Lucentio's Apartments.
Enter Baptista, Vincentio, Gremio, Pedant, Lucentio,
Bianca, Tranio, Biondello, Petruchio, Catharina,
Grumio, Hortensio, and Widow. Tranio's servants bringing in a banquet.
Luc.
At last, tho' long, our jarring notes agree;
And time it is, when raging war is done,
To smile at 'scapes and perils over-blown.
My fair Bianca, bid my Father welcome,
While I with self-same kindness welcome thine;
Brother Petruchio, Sister Catharine,
-- 349 --
And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving Widow;
Feast with the best, and welcome to my house,
My banquet 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.
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.
(25) note
Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his Widow.
Wid.
Then never trust me, if I be afeard.
Pet.
You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense:
I mean, Hortensio is afeard of you.
Wid.
He, that is giddy, thinks, the world turns round.
Pet.
Roundly replied.
Cath.
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.
Cath.
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,
Measures my Husband's sorrow by his woe;
And now you know my meaning.
-- 350 --
Cath.
A very mean meaning.
Wid.
Right, I mean you.
Cath.
And I am mean, indeed, respecting you.
Pet.
To her, Kate.
Hor.
To her, Widow.
Pet.
A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down.
Hor.
That's my office.
Pet.
Spoke like an Officer; ha', to thee, lad.
[Drinks to Hortensio.
Bap.
How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks?
Gre.
Believe me, Sir, they butt heads 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 thou shalt not, since you have begun:
Have at you for a better jest or two.
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, Catharine, and Widow.
Pet.
She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio,
This bird you aim'd at, tho' you hit it not;
Therefore, a health to all that shot and miss'd.
Tra.
Oh, Sir, Lucentio slip'd me like his gray-hound,
Which runs himself, and catches for his master.
Pet.
A good swift Simile, but something currish.
Tra.
'Tis well, Sir, that you hunted for your self:
'Tis thought, your deer does hold you at a bay.
Bap.
Oh, oh, Petruchio, Tranio hits you now.
Luc.
I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio.
Hor.
Confess, confess, hath he not hit you there?
Pet.
He 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 outright.
Bap.
Now, in good sadness, Son Petruchio,
I think, thou hast the veriest Shrew of all.
-- 351 --
Pet.
Well, I say, no; and therefore for assurance,
Let's each one send unto his Wife, and he
Whose Wife is most obedient to come first,
When he doth send for her, shall win the wager.
Hor.
Content;—what wager?
Luc.
Twenty crowns.
Pet.
Twenty crowns!
I'll venture so much on my hawk or hound,
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'll be your half, Bianca comes.
Luc.
I'll have no halves: I'll bear it all my self.
Re-enter Biondello.
How now, what news?
Bion.
Sir, my Mistress sends you word
That she is busie, and cannot come.
Pet.
How? she's busie and cannot come: is that an answer?
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 intreat my wife to
come to me forthwith.
[Exit Biondello.
Pet.
Oh, ho! intreat her! nay, then she needs must come.
Hor.
I am afraid, Sir, do you what you can,
Enter Biondello.
Yours will not be intreated: 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.
-- 352 --
Pet.
Worse and worse, she will not come!
Oh vile, intolerable, not to be indur'd:
Sirrah, Grumio, go to your Mistress,
Say, I command her to come to me.
[Exit Gru.
Hor.
I know her answer.
Pet.
What?
Hor.
She will not.
Pet.
The fouler fortune mine, and there's an end.
Enter Catharina.
Bap.
Now, by my hollidam, here comes Catharine!
Cath.
What is your will, Sir, that you send for me?
Pet.
Where is your Sister, and Hortensio's Wife?
Cath.
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:
Away, I say, and bring them hither straight.
[Exit Catharina.
Luc.
Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.
Hor.
And so it is: I wonder, what it boads.
Pet.
Marry, peace it boads, and love, and quiet life,
And 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.
Enter Catharina, Bianca and Widow.
See, where she comes, and brings your froward wives
As prisoners to her womanly persuasion:
Catharine, that Cap of yours becomes you not;
Off with that bauble, throw it under foot.
[She pulls off her cap, and throws it down.
-- 353 --
Wid.
Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh,
'Till I be brought to such a silly pass.
Bian.
Fie, what a foolish duty call you this?
Luc.
I would, your duty were as foolish too!
The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca,
Cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time.
Bian.
The more fool you, for laying on my duty.
Pet.
Catharine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong Women,
What duty they owe to 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.
Cath.
Fie! fie! unknit that threatning unkind brow,
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
To wound thy Lord, thy King, thy Governor.
It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads;
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 dain to sip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy Husband is thy Lord, thy Life, thy Keeper,
Thy Head, thy Soveraign; 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 ly'st 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, sower,
And not obedient to his honest will;
What is she but a foul contending Rebel,
And graceless Traitor to her loving Lord?
-- 354 --
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 conditions 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 launces are but straws,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare;
That seeming to be most, which we indeed least are.
(26) noteThen vale your stomachs, 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.
-- 355 --
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.
Pet.
Come, Kate, we'll to bed;
(27) noteWe three are married, but you two are sped.
'Twas I won the wager, tho' you hit the white;
And being a winner, God give you good night.
[Exeunt Petruchio and Catharina.
Hor.
Now go thy ways, thou hast tam'd a curst Shrew.
Luc.
'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tam'd so.
[Exeunt omnes.
Enter two servants bearing Sly in his own apparel, and
leave him on the Stage. Then enter a Tapster.
Sly awaking.]
Sim, give's some more wine—what,
all the Players gone? am not I a Lord?
Tap.
A Lord, with a murrain! come, art thou drunk
still?
Sly.
Who's this? Tapster! oh, I have had the bravest
dream that ever thou heardst in all thy life.
Tap.
Yea, marry, but thou hadst best get thee home, for
your Wife will course you for dreaming here all night.
Sly.
Will she? I know how to tame a Shrew. I
dreamt upon it all this night, and thou hast wak'd me out
of the best dream that ever I had. But I'll to my Wife,
and tame her too, if she anger me.
