Pet.
Verona, for a while I take my leave,
To see my friends in Padua, but of all ^note
My best beloved and approved friend,
Hortensio; and I trow this is his ^note house.
Here, sirrah Grumio; knock, I say.

Gru.

Knock, sir! whom should I knock? ^note is there any man has ^note rebused ^note 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 ^note it;
I'll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it. [He wrings ^note him by the ears.

Gru.

Help, masters ^note, help! my master is mad.

Pet.

Now, knock when I bid you, sirrah villain! ^note

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 il core ben trovato ^note,’ may I say ^note.

Hor.

‘Alla nostra casa ben ^note venuto, molto ^note honorato ^note signor ^note mio Petrucio.’

Rise, Grumio, rise ^note: we will compound this quarrel.

Gru.

Nay, 'tis no matter, sir ^note, what he 'leges ^note in Latin. 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 aught I see, two-and-thirty, a pip ^note out ^note?

Pet.
A senseless villain! Good Hortensio,
I bade the rascal knock upon your gate
And could not get him for my heart to do it.

Gru.

Knock at the gate! O heavens! Spake you not these words plain, ‘Sirrah, knock me here, rap me here, knock me well, and knock me soundly’? And come you now with, ‘knocking at the gate’? ^note

Pet.
Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you.

Hor.
Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio's pledge:
Why, this's ^note a heavy chance 'twixt him and you,
Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio ^note.
And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale
Blows you to Padua here from old Verona?

Pet.
Such wind as scatters young men ^note through the world
To seek their fortunes farther than at home
Where small experience grows. But in a few, ^note
Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me:
Antonio, my father, is deceased;
And I have ^note thrust myself into this maze,
Haply ^note 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'ldst ^note thank me but a little for my counsel:
And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich
And very rich: but thou'rt ^note too much my friend,
And I'll not wish thee to her.

Pet.
Signior ^note Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as we ^note
Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou ^note know
One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife,

As wealth is burden ^note of my wooing dance ^note,
Be she as foul as was Florentius' ^note love,
As old as Sibyl ^note, and as curst and shrewd
As Socrates' Xanthippe ^note, or a worse ^note,
She moves me not, or not removes, at least,
Affection's edge in me ^note, were she as ^note rough
As are the swelling Adriatic 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, though she have as many diseases as two and fifty ^note horses ^note: why, nothing comes amiss, so money comes withal.

Hor.
Petruchio, since we are stepp'd thus far in,
I will continue that I broach'd in jest.
I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife
With wealth enough and young and beauteous,
Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman:
Her only fault, and that ^note is faults ^note enough,
Is that she is intolerable ^note curst
And shrewd ^note and froward ^note, so beyond all measure,
That, were my state far worser than it is,
I would not wed her for a mine of gold.

Pet.
Hortensio, peace! thou know'st not gold's effect:
Tell me her father's name and 'tis enough;
Fro I will board her, though she chide as loud
As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack.

Hor.
Her father is ^note Baptista Minola,

An affable and courteous gentleman:
Her name is Katharina Minola,
Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue.

Pet.
I know her father, though I know not her;
And he knew my deceased father well.
I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her;
And therefore let me be thus bold with you
To give you over at this first encounter,
Unless you will accompany me thither.

Gru.

I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour lasts. O' ^note 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 ^note once, he'll rail in his ^note rope-tricks ^note. 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 keep ^note my treasure is:
He hath the jewel of my life in hold,
His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca;
And her ^note withholds from me and other more ^note,
Suitors to her and rivals in my love;
Supposing it a thing impossible,
For ^note those defects I have before rehearsed,
That ever Katharina will be woo'd;
Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en,
That none shall have access unto Bianca
Till Katharine the curst have got a husband.

Gru.
Katharine the curst!
A title for a maid of all titles the worst.

Hor.
Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace;
And offer me disguised in sober robes
To old Baptista as a schoolmaster
Well seen in music, 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 herself ^note. ^note

Gru. ^note

Here's no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks, how the young folks lay their heads ^note together! Enter Gremio, and Lucentio disguised. ^note Master, master ^note, look about you: who goes there, ha? ^note

Hor.
Peace, Grumio! it is ^note the rival of my love.
Petruchio, stand ^note by a while ^note.

Gru.
A proper stripling and an amorous!

Gre.
O, very well; I have perused the note.
Hark you ^note, sir; I'll have them very ^note 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 paper too, ^note
And let me have them very well perfumed:
For she is sweeter than perfume itself
To whom they go to ^note. 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 yourself were still in place:
Yea, and perhaps with more successful words

Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir.

Gre.
O this learning, what a thing it is!

Gru.
O this woodcock, what an ass it is!

Pet.
Peace, sirrah!

Hor.
Grumio, mum! ^note God save you, Signior Gremio.

Gre.
And you are ^note well met, Signior Hortensio.
Trow you whither ^note I am going? To Baptista Minola.
I promised ^note to inquire carefully
About a schoolmaster ^note for the fair ^note Bianca: ^note
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 ^note.

Hor.
'Tis well; and I have met a gentleman
Hath promised me to help me ^note to another, ^note
A fine musician to instruct our mistress;
So shall I no whit be behind in duty
To fair Bianca, so beloved of me.

Gre.
Beloved of me; and that my deeds ^note 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 woo curst Katharine,
Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please.

Gre.
So said, so done, is well.
Hortensio, have you told him all her faults?

Pet.
I know she is an irksome brawling scold:
If that be all, masters, I hear no harm.

Gre.
No, say'st me so, friend? What ^note countryman?

Pet.
Born in Verona, old Antonio's ^note son:
My father ^note dead, my fortune lives for me;
And I do hope good days and long to see.

Gre.
O sir, such ^note a life, with such a wife, were strange!
But if you have a stomach ^note, to't i' ^note God's name: ^note
You shall have me assisting you in all.
But will you woo this wild-cat?

Pet.
Will I live?

Gru.
Will he woo her? ay, or ^note I'll hang her.

Pet.
Why came I hither but to that intent?
Think you a little din can daunt mine ^note 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 ^note?
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?
Have I not in a pitched battle heard
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang ^note?
And do you tell me of a woman's tongue,
That gives not half so great a blow to hear ^note
As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire?
Tush, tush! fear boys with bugs.

Gru.
For he fears none.

Gre.
Hortensio, hark:
This gentleman is happily arrived,
My mind presumes, for his own good and ours ^note.

Hor.
I promised 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. ^noteEnter Tranio brave, ^note and Biondello.

Tra.
Gentlemen, God save you. If I may be bold, ^note
Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way
To the house of Signior Baptista Minola? ^note

Bion. ^note

He that has the two fair daughters: is't he ^note you mean?

Tra.

Even he, Biondello. ^note

Gre.
Hark you, sir; you mean not her to— ^note

Tra.
Perhaps, him and her, sir: what have you to do?

Pet.
Not ^note 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.
And if ^note I be, sir, is it any offence?

Gre.
No; if without more words you will get you hence.

Tra.
Why, sir, I pray ^note, 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 ^note the choice love of Signior Gremio.

Hor.
That she's ^note the chosen of Signior ^note Hortensio.

Tra.
Softly, my masters! if you be gentlemen,

Do me this right; hear me with patience ^note.
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 ^note have and me for one.
Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers;
Then well one more may fair Bianca have:
And so she shall; Lucentio shall make one,
Though Paris came in hope to speed alone.

Gre.
What, ^note this gentleman will out-talk us all!

Luc.
Sir, give ^note him head: I know he'll prove a jade.

Pet.
Hortensio, to what end are all these words?

Hor.
Sir, let me be so bold as ask you ^note,
Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter?

Tra.
No, sir; but hear I do that he hath two,
The one as famous for a scolding tongue
As is the other ^note 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 in sooth:
The youngest daughter whom you hearken for
Her father keeps from all access of suitors;
And will not promise her to any man
Until the elder ^note sister first be wed:
The younger then is free and not before.

Tra.
If it be so, sir, that you are the man
Must stead ^note us all and me amongst the rest;
And if ^note you break the ice and do this feat ^note,
Achieve the elder, set the younger free
For our access, whose hap shall be to have her
Will not so graceless be to be ingrate.

Hor.
Sir, you say well and well you do conceive;
And since you do profess to be a suitor,
You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman,
To whom we all rest generally beholding ^note.

Tra.
Sir, I shall not be slack: in sign whereof,
Please ye we may contrive ^note this afternoon,
And quaff carouses to our mistress' ^note health,
And do as adversaries do in law,
Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.

Gru. ^note Bion. ^note
O excellent motion! Fellows, let's be gone.

Hor.
The motion's good indeed and be it so,
Petruchio, I shall ^note be your ben venuto ^note. [Exeunt. ACT II. Scene I. Padua. A room in Baptista's house. Enter Katharina and Bianca.

Bian.
Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,
To make a bondmaid and a slave of me;
That I disdain: but for these other gawds ^note,
Unbind my hands, I'll pull ^note them off myself,
Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat;
Or what you will command me will I do,
So well I know my duty to my elders.

Kath.
Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee ^note, tell
Whom thou lovest best: see thou dissemble not.

Bian.
Believe me, sister, of all the ^note men alive
I never yet beheld that special face

Which I could fancy more than any other.

Kath.
Minion, thou liest. Is't ^note not Hortensio?

Bian.
If you ^note affect him, sister, here I swear
I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have him.

Kath.
O then, belike, you fancy riches more:
You will have Gremio to keep you fair ^note.

Bian.
Is it for him you do envy me so ^note?
Nay then you jest, and now I well perceive
You have but jested with me all this while:
I prithee, sister Kate, untie ^note my hands.

Kath.
If that be jest, then all the rest was so. [Strikes her. Enter Baptista.

Bap.
Why, how now, dame! whence grows this insolence?
Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl! she weeps.
Go ply thy ^note 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?

Kath.
Her silence flouts me, and I'll be revenged. [Flies after Bianca. ^note

Bap.
What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in. [Exit Bianca. ^note

Kath.
What ^note, 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.

Bap.
Was ever ^note gentleman thus grieved as I?
But who comes here?

^noteEnter Gremio, Lucentio in the habit of a mean man; Petruchio, with Hortensio as a musician; and Tranio, with Biondello bearing a lute and books ^note.

Gre.

Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.

Bap.

Good morrow, neighbour Gremio. God save ^note you, gentlemen!

Pet.
And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter
Call'd Katharina, fair ^note and virtuous ^note?

Bap.
I have a daughter, sir, called Katharina.

Gre.
You are too ^note 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 ^note qualities and mild behaviour,
Am bold to show myself a forward guest
Within your house, to make mine eye the witness
Of that report which I so oft have heard.
And, for an entrance to my entertainment,
I do present you with a man of mine, [Presenting Hortensio.
Cunning in music and the mathematics,
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 ^note, born in Mantua.

Bap.
You're ^note welcome, sir; and he, for your good sake.
But for my daughter Katharine ^note, this I know,
She is not for your turn, the more ^note 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 as ^note 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 ^note,
Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too:
Baccare ^note! you are marvellous forward ^note.

Pet.
O, pardon me, Signior Gremio; I would fain be doing.

Gre.
I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your wooing.

Neighbour ^note, this ^note is a gift very grateful, I am sure of it. To ^note express the like kindness, myself, that have been more kindly ^note beholding ^note to you than any, freely give unto you ^note this young scholar [presenting Lucentio ^note], that hath been long studying at Rheims ^note; as cunning in Greek, Latin ^note, and other languages, as the other in music and mathematics ^note: his name is Cambio; pray ^note, accept his service ^note.

Bap.

A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio. Welcome, good Cambio. But, gentle sir [to Tranio], methinks you walk like a stranger: may I be so bold to know the cause ^note of your coming? ^note

Tra.
Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own;
That, being a stranger in this city here,
Do make myself ^note 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:
And, toward the education of your daughters,
I here bestow a simple instrument,
And this small packet ^note of Greek and Latin books: ^note
If you accept them, then their worth is great.

Bap.
Lucentio is your name; of whence, I pray? ^note

Tra.
Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio.

Bap.
A mighty man of Pisa; by report ^note
I know ^note him well: you are ^note very welcome, sir.
Take you the lute, and you the set of books;
You shall go see your pupils presently.
Holla, within ^note! Enter a Servant.
Sirrah, lead ^note these gentlemen
To ^note my daughters ^note; and tell ^note them both ^{note note},

These are their tutors: bid them use them well. [Exit Servant, with Luc. and Hor. ^note, Bio. ^note following.
We will go walk a little in the orchard,
And then to dinner. You are passing welcome,
And so I pray you all to think yourselves.

Pet.
Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,
And every day I cannot come to woo.
You knew ^note my father well, and in him me,
Left solely ^note heir to all his lands and goods,
Which I have better'd rather than decreased:
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 ^note
Her widowhood, be it that she survive me,
In all my lands and leases whatsoever ^note:
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
They do consume the thing that feeds their fury:
Though little fire grows great with little wind,
Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all:
So I to her and so she yields to me;
For I am rough and woo not like a babe.

Bap.
Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed!
But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words.

Pet.
Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds,
That shake ^note not, though they blow perpetually.

^noteRe-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 ^note 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 ^note.
I did but tell her she mistook her frets,
And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering;
When, with a most ^note impatient devilish spirit,
‘Frets, call you these ^note?’ quoth she; ‘I'll fume with them:’
And, with that word, she struck me on the head,
And through the instrument my pate made way;
And there I stood amazed for a while,
As on a pillory, looking through the lute;
While she did call me rascal fiddler ^note
And twangling Jack; with twenty such vile terms,
As had she ^note studied to misuse me so.

Pet.
Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench;
I love her ten times more than e'er I did:
O, how I long to have some chat with her!

Bap.
Well, go with me and be not so discomfited ^note:
Proceed in practice with my younger daughter;
She's apt to learn and thankful for good turns.
Signior Petruchio, will you go with us,
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?

Pet.
I pray you do; I will ^note attend her here, [Exeunt ^note Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, and Hortensio.
And woo her with some spirit when she comes.
Say that she rail; why then I'll tell her plain
She sings as sweetly as a nightingale:

Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear
As morning roses newly wash'd with 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 though she bid me stay by her a week:
If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day
When I shall ask the banns ^note, and when be married.
But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak. Enter Katharina.
Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear.

Kath.
Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:
They call me Katharine that do talk of me.

Pet.
You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain Kate,
And bonny ^note 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 Kates ^note, and therefore, Kate,
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation;
Hearing thy mildness praised in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded ^note,
Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,
Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.

Kath.
Moved! in good time: let him that moved you hither
Remove you hence: I knew you at the first
You were a moveable.

Pet.
Why, what's a moveable?

Kath.
A join'd ^note-stool.

Pet.
Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me.

Kath.
Asses are made to bear, and so are you.

Pet.
Women are made to bear, and so are you.

Kath.
No such jade as you ^note, if me you mean.

Pet.
Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee!
For, knowing thee to be but young and light,—

Kath.
Too light for such a swain as you to catch;
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.

Pet.
Should be! should—buzz! ^note

Kath.
Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.

Pet.
O slow-wing'd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee?

Kath.
Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.

Pet.
Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry.

Kath.
If I be waspish, best ^note beware my sting.

Pet.
My remedy is then, to pluck it out.

Kath.
Ay ^note, if the fool could find it ^note where it lies.

Pet.
Who knows not where a wasp does ^note wear his sting?
In his tail ^note.

Kath.
In his tongue.

Pet.
Whose tongue? ^note

Kath.
Yours, if you talk of tails ^note: and so farewell.

Pet.
What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again,
Good Kate; I am a gentleman ^note.

Kath.
That I'll try. [She strikes him.

Pet.
I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again.

Kath.
So may you lose your arms:
If you strike me, you are no gentleman;

And if no gentleman, why then no arms.

Pet.
A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books!

Kath.
What is your crest? a coxcomb? ^note

Pet.
A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.

Kath.
No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven.

Pet.
Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour.

Kath.
It is my fashion, when I see a crab.

Pet.
Why, here's no crab; and therefore look not sour ^note.

Kath.
There is, there is.

Pet.
Then show it me.

Kath.
Had I a glass, I would.

Pet.
What, you mean my face?

Kath.
Well aim'd of such a young one.

Pet.
Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.

Kath.
Yet you are wither'd.

Pet.
'Tis with cares.

Kath.
I care not ^note.

Pet.
Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth you scape not so.

Kath.
I chafe you, if I tarry: let me go.

Pet.
No, not a whit: I find you passing gentle.
'Twas told me you were rough and coy and sullen,
And now I find report a very liar;
For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous,
But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers:
Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance ^note,
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,
Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk,
But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers,
With gentle conference, soft and affable.
Why does ^note the world report that Kate doth limp?
O slanderous world! Kate like the hazel-twig
Is straight and slender and as brown in hue
As hazel-nuts and sweeter than the kernels.
O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt.

Kath.
Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st ^note command.

Pet.
Did ever Dian so become a grove
As Kate this chamber with her princely gait?
O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate;
And then let Kate be chaste and Dian sportful!

Kath.
Where did you study all this goodly speech?

Pet.
It is extempore, from my mother-wit.

Kath.
A witty mother! witless ^note else ^note her son.

Pet.
Am I not wise?

Kath.
Yes; keep ^note you warm.

Pet.
Marry ^note, so I mean, sweet Katharine, in thy bed:
And therefore, setting all this chat aside,
Thus in plain terms: your father hath consented
That you shall be my wife; your dowry 'greed on;
And, will you, nill 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 Kate ^note to a Kate
Conformable as other household Kates ^note.
Here comes your father: never make denial;
I must and will have Katharine to my wife. ^noteRe-enter ^note Baptista, Gremio, and Tranio. ^note

Bap.
Now ^note, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?

Pet.
How but well, sir? how but well?
It were impossible I should speed amiss.

Bap.
Why, how now, daughter Katharine! in your dumps?

Kath. ^note
Call you me daughter? now, I promise you
You have ^note show'd a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one half lunatic;
A mad-cap ruffian and a swearing Jack,
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.

Pet.
Father, 'tis thus: yourself and all the world,
That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her:
If she be curst, it is for policy,
For she's not froward, but modest as the dove;
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn ^note;
For patience she will prove a second Grissel ^note,
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity:
And to conclude, we have ^note 'greed so well together,
That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.

Kath.
I'll see thee hang'd on ^note Sunday first.

Gre.
Hark ^note, Petruchio; she says she'll see thee hang'd ^note first.

Tra.
Is this your speeding? nay ^note, then, good night our part ^note!

Pet.
Be patient, gentlemen ^note; I choose her for myself:
If she and I be pleased, what's that to you?
'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
That she shall still be curst in company.
I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe
How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate!
She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss
She vied ^note so fast, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twink she won me to her love.
O, 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.
Provide the feast, father ^note, and bid the guests;
I will be sure my Katharine shall be fine.

Bap.
I know not what to say: but give me ^note 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 ^note o' Sunday ^note. [Exeunt Petruchio and Katharina severally ^note. ^note

Gre.
Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly?

Bap.
Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part,
And venture madly on a desperate mart.

Tra.
'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you:
'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.

Bap.
The gain I seek is, quiet in ^note 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 Bianca more
Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.

Gre.
Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I.

Tra.
Greybeard, thy love doth freeze.

Gre.
But thine doth fry.
Skipper, stand back: 'tis age that nourisheth.

Tra.
But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth.

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 my Bianca's love. ^note

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;
Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands;
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;
In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns;
In cypress chests my arras ^note counterpoints ^note,
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl,
Valance ^note of Venice gold in needlework,
Pewter and brass and all things that belong ^note
To house or housekeeping: then, at my farm
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls,
And all things answerable to this portion ^note.
Myself am struck ^note 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 ^note.
What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio?

Gre.
Two thousand ducats by the year of land!
My land amounts not to ^note so much in all:
That she shall have; besides an argosy
That now is lying in Marseilles' ^note road.

What, have I choked you with an argosy?

Tra.
Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less
Than three great argosies; besides two galliasses,
And twelve tight galleys: these I will assure her,
And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next.

Gre.
Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more;
And she can have no more than all I have:
If you like me, she shall have me and mine.

Tra.
Why, then the maid is mine from all the world,
By your firm promise: Gremio is out-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 ^note,
I am thus resolved ^note: on Sunday next you know
My daughter Katharine is to be married:
Now, on the ^note Sunday following, shall Bianca ^note
Be bride to you ^note, if you make this assurance ^note;
If not, to Signior Gremio ^note:
And so, I take my leave, and thank you both.

Gre.
Adieu, good neighbour. [Exit Baptista.
Now I fear thee not:
Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool
To give thee all, and in his waning age
Set foot under thy table: tut, a toy!
An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. [Exit.

Tra.
A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide!
Yet I have faced it with a card of ten.

'Tis in my head to do my master good:
I see no reason but supposed Lucentio
Must ^note get a father, call'd—supposed Vincentio;
And that's a wonder ^note: fathers commonly
Do get their children; but in this case of wooing ^note,
A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning ^note. [Exit. ACT III. ^note Scene I. [Footnote: Padua. Baptista's house. ^note Enter Lucentio, Hortensio, and Bianca.

Luc.
Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir:
Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
Her sister Katharine welcomed you withal?

Hor.
But, wrangling pedant, this is ^{note note}
The patroness of heavenly harmony:
Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in music 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 music was ordain'd!
Was it not to refresh the mind of man
After his studies or his usual pain?
Then give me leave to read philosophy,

And while ^note I pause, serve in your harmony.

Hor.
Sirrah, I will not ^note 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 ^note times,
But learn my lessons as I please myself.
And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down:
Take you your ^note instrument, play you the whiles ^note;
His lecture will be done ere you have tuned. ^note

Hor.
You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune?

Luc.
That will be never: tune your instrument. ^note

Bian.
Where left we last? ^note

Luc.
Here, madam:
  ‘Hic ^note ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia ^note tellus;
    Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.’

Bian.

Construe ^note them.

Luc.

‘Hic ^note ibat,’ as I told you before,—‘Simois,’ I am Lucentio,—‘hic est,’ son unto Vincentio of Pisa,—‘Sigeia ^note 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. ^note

Madam, my instrument's in tune.

Bian.

Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars.

Luc.

Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.

Bian.

Now let me see if I can construe ^note it: ‘Hic ^note ibat ^note Simois,’ I know you not,—‘hic est Sigeia ^note tellus,’

I trust you not;—‘Hic steterat ^note 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. [Aside]
How fiery and forward our pedant is! ^note
Now, for my life, the ^note knave doth court my love:
Pedascule ^note, I'll watch you better yet. ^note

Bian.
In time I may believe, yet I mistrust ^note.

Luc. ^note
Mistrust it not; for, sure, Æacides
Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather.

Bian. ^note
I must believe my master; else, I promise you,
I should be arguing still upon that doubt: ^note
But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you:
Good masters ^note, take it not unkindly, pray,
That I have been thus pleasant with you both.

Hor. ^note
You may go walk, and give me leave a while:
My lessons make no music in three parts.

Luc.
Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait, [Aside ^note]
And watch withal; for, but I be deceived,
Our fine musician groweth amorous. ^note

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 ^note 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 ^note long ago.

Hor.
Yet read the gamut ^note of Hortensio.

Bian. [reads]

“‘Gamut ^note’ I am, the ground of all accord,
  ‘A re ^note,’ to plead Hortensio's passion;
‘B mi ^note,’ Bianca, take him for thy lord,
  ‘C fa ut ^note,’ that loves ^note with all affection:
‘D sol re,’ one clef ^note, two ^note notes have I:
‘E la mi,’ show ^note pity, or I die.”
Call you this gamut ^note? tut, I like it not:
Old fashions please me best; I am ^note not so nice,
To change ^note true ^note rules for old inventions. Enter a Servant. ^note

Serv. ^note
Mistress, your father prays you leave your books,
And help to dress your sister's chamber up:
You know to morrow is the wedding-day.

Bian.
Farewell, sweet masters both; I must be gone. [Exeunt Bianca and Servant. ^note

Luc.
Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. [Exit. ^note

Hor.
But I have cause to pry into this pedant:
Methinks he looks as though he were ^note in love:
Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble,
To cast thy wandering eyes on every stale,
Seize thee that ^note list: if once I find thee ranging,
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. [Exit.

^note Scene II. [Footnote: Padua. Before Baptista's house. ^note Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Katharina, Bianca, Lucentio ^note, and others, attendants. ^note

Bap. ^note
Signior Lucentio [to Tranio], this is the 'pointed ^note day.
That Katharine and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we hear not of our son-in-law.
What will be said? what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage!
What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?

Kath.
No shame but mine: I must, forsooth, be forced
To give my hand, opposed against my heart,
Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen;
Who woo'd in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
I told you, I, he was a frantic fool,
Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour:
And, to be noted for a merry man, ^note
He'll woo a thousand, 'point ^note the day of marriage,
Make friends, invite, ^note and proclaim the banns ^note;
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
Now must the world point at poor Katharine ^note,
And say, ‘Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her!’

Tra.
Patience, good Katharine, and Baptista too.
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
Whatever fortune stays him from his word:

Though he be blunt, I know ^note him passing wise;
Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.

Kath.
Would Katharine had never seen him ^note though! [Exit weeping, followed by Bianca and others. ^note

Bap.
Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep;
For such an injury would vex a very saint ^note,
Much more a shrew of thy ^note impatient humour. Enter Biondello. ^{note note}

Bion.

Master, master! news, old news, and such news ^note as you never heard of!

Bap.

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

Bion.

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

Bap.

Is he come?

Bion.

Why, no, sir.

Bap.

What then?

Bion.

He is coming.

Bap.

When will he be here?

Bion.

When he stands where I am and sees you there.

Tra.

But say, what to ^note thine ^note old news?

Bion.

Why, Petruchio is coming in a new ^note hat and an old jerkin, a pair of old breeches thrice turned, a pair of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled, another laced, an old rusty sword ta'en out of the town-armoury, with a broken hilt, and chapeless; with two broken points ^note: his horse hipped ^note with an old mothy saddle and ^note stirrups of no

kindred; ^note besides, possessed with the glanders and like to mose ^note in the chine; troubled with the lampass, infected with the fashions ^note, full of windgalls, sped with spavins, rayed with the yellows, past cure of the fives ^note, stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the bots, swayed ^note in the back and shoulder-shotten; near-legged ^note before and with a half-checked bit and a head-stall of sheep's leather which, being restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst and now repaired ^note with knots; one girth ^note six times pieced and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her name fairly set down ^note in studs, and here and there pieced with packthread.

Bap.

Who comes with him?

Bion.

O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned like the horse; with a linen stock on one leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered with a red and blue list; an old hat, and ‘the humour of ^note forty fancies’ pricked ^note in't for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian footboy or a ^note gentleman's lackey.

Tra.
'Tis some odd ^note humour pricks him to this fashion;
Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-apparell'd.

Bap.

I am glad he's come ^note, howsoe'er ^note he comes.

Bion.

Why, sir, he comes not.

Bap.

Didst thou not say he comes?

Bion.

Who? that Petruchio ^note came ^note?

Bap.

Ay, that Petruchio came.

Bion.

No, sir; I say ^note his horse comes, with him on his back.

Bap.

Why, that's all one.

Bion.
Nay, by Saint Jamy,
I hold you a penny,
A horse and a man
Is more than one,
And yet not many. ^{note note}Enter Petruchio and Grumio. ^note

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

Bap.
You are ^note welcome, sir.

Pet.
And yet I come not well.

Bap.
And yet you halt not ^note.

Tra.
Not so well apparell'd ^note
As I wish ^note you were ^note.

Pet.
Were ^note it better ^note, I should rush in thus. ^{note note}
But where is Kate? where is my ^note 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 ^note eye-sore to our solemn festival!

Tra.
And tell us, what occasion of import

Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife,
And sent you hither so unlike yourself?

Pet.
Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear:
Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word,
Though in some part enforced to digress;
Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse
As you shall well be satisfied withal ^note.
But where is Kate? I stay too long from her:
The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church.

Tra.
See not your bride in these unreverent robes:
Go to my chamber; put on clothes of mine.

Pet.
Not I, believe me: thus I'll visit her.

Bap.
But thus, I trust, you will not marry her.

Pet.
Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha' ^note done with words:
To me she's married, not unto my clothes:
Could I repair what she will wear in me,
As I can ^note change these poor accoutrements,
'Twere well for Kate and better for myself.
But what a fool am I to chat with you,
When I should bid good morrow to my bride,
And seal the title with a lovely ^note kiss! [Exeunt Petruchio and Grumio. ^note

Tra.
He hath some meaning in his mad attire:
We will persuade him, be it possible,
To put on better ere he go to church.

Bap.
I'll after him, and see the event of this. [Exeunt Baptista, Gremio, and attendants. ^{note note}

Tra.
But to her love ^note concerneth us to add

Her father's liking: which to bring to pass,
As I before ^note 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 ^note,—
And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa;
And make assurance here in Padua
Of greater sums than I have promised.
So shall you quietly enjoy your hope,
And marry sweet Bianca with consent.

Luc.
Were it not that my fellow-schoolmaster
Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly,
'Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage;
Which once perform'd, let all the world say no,
I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world.

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

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

Tra.
And is ^note the bride and bridegroom coming home?

Gre.
A bridegroom say you? 'tis a groom indeed,
A grumbling ^note groom, and that the girl shall find.

Tra.
Curster than she? ^note why, 'tis impossible.

Gre.
Why, he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend.

Tra.
Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam.

Gre.
Tut, she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him!
I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest

Should ask ^note, if Katharine should be his wife,
‘Ay, by gogs-wouns,’ quoth he; and swore so loud,
That, all amazed, the priest let fall the book;
And, as he stoop'd again to take it up,
The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff,
That down fell priest and book, and book and priest:
‘Now take them up,’ quoth he, ‘if any list.’

Tra.
What said the wench ^note when he rose ^note 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 ^note
He had ^note been aboard, carousing to his mates
After a storm: quaff'd off the muscadel,
And threw the sops all in the sexton's face;
Having no other reason ^{note note}
But that his beard grew thin and hungerly
And seem'd to ask him ^note sops as he was drinking.
This done, he took the bride about the neck
And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack
That at the parting all ^note the church did echo ^note:
And I ^note seeing this came thence for very shame;
And after me, I know ^note, the rout is coming.
Such a mad marriage never ^note was before:
Hark, hark! I hear ^note the minstrels play ^{note note}. [Music.

^noteRe-enter Petruchio, Katharina ^note, Bianca, Baptista, Hortensio, Grumio, and Train. ^note

Pet.
Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains:
I know you think to dine with me to-day,
And have prepared 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 ^note away to-night?

Pet.
I must away to-day, before night come:
Make it no wonder; if you knew my business,
You would entreat me rather go than stay.
And, honest company, I thank you all,
That have beheld me give away myself
To this most patient, sweet, and virtuous wife:
Dine with my father, drink a health to me;
For I must hence; and farewell to you all.

Tra.
Let us entreat you stay till after dinner.

Pet.
It may not be.

Gre.
Let me entreat you ^note.

Pet.
It cannot be.

Kath.
Let me entreat you. ^note

Pet.
I am content.

Kath.
Are you content to stay?

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

Kath.
Now, if you love me, stay.

Pet.
Grumio, my horse ^note.

Gru.

Ay, sir ^note, they be ready: the oats ^note have eaten ^note the horses.

Kath.
Nay, then,

Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day;
No, nor to-morrow, not till ^note I please myself.
The door is open, sir; there lies your way;
You may be jogging whiles ^note your boots are green;
For me, I'll not be gone ^note till I ^note please myself:
'Tis like you'll prove a jolly surly groom,
That take it on you at the first so roundly.

Pet.
O Kate, content thee; prithee, be not angry.

Kath.
I will be angry: what hast thou to do?
Father, be quiet: he shall stay my leisure.

Gre.
Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work.

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

Pet.
They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command.
Obey the bride, you that attend on her;
Go to the feast, revel and domineer,
Carouse full measure to her maidenhead,
Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves ^note:
But for my bonny Kate, she must with me.
Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret;
I will be master of what is mine own:
She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house ^note,
My ^note household stuff, my field, my barn ^note,
My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing;
And here she stands, touch her whoever dare;
I'll bring mine ^note action on the proudest he
That stops my way in Padua. Grumio,
Draw forth thy weapon, we are ^note beset with thieves;
Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man.
Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch thee, Kate:

I'll buckler thee against a million. [Exeunt Petruchio, Katharina, and Grumio. ^note

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? ^note

Bian.
That, being mad herself, she's madly mated.

Gre.
I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated.

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

Tra.
Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it?

Bap.
She shall, Lucentio. Come ^note, gentlemen, let's go. [Exeunt. ACT IV. ^note Scene I. [Footnote: Petruchio's country house. ^note Enter Grumio.

Gru.

Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad masters, and all foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? was ever man so rayed ^note? was ever man so weary? ^note I am sent before to make a fire, and they are coming after to warm them. Now, were not I a little pot, and soon hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roof of my mouth, my heart in my belly, ere I should come by a fire

to thaw me: but I, with blowing the fire, shall warm myself; for, considering the weather, a taller man than I will take cold. Holla, ho! Curtis!

Curt.

Who is ^note that calls so coldly?

Gru.

A piece of ice: if thou doubt it, thou mayst slide from my shoulder to my heel with no greater a run but my head and my neck. A fire, good Curtis.

Curt.

Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio?

Gru.

O, ay, Curtis ^note, 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 ^note frost: but, thou knowest, winter tames man, woman, and beast; for it hath tamed my old master, and my new mistress, and myself ^note, fellow Curtis.

Curt.

Away, you three-inch ^note fool! I am no beast.

Gru.

Am I but three inches? why, thy ^note horn is a foot; and so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a fire, or shall I complain on thee to our mistress, whose hand, she being now at hand, thou shalt soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office?

Curt.

I prithee, 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 ^note fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news.

Gru.

Why, ‘Jack, boy! ho! boy!’ and as much news as thou wilt ^note .

Curt.

Come, you are so full of cony-catching!

Gru.

Why, therefore fire; for I have caught extreme cold. Where's the cook? is supper ready, the house trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept; the serving-men in their ^note new fustian, their white stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on? Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without ^note, the carpets ^note laid, and every thing in order?

Curt.

All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news ^note.

Gru.

First, know, my horse is tired; my master and mistress fallen out.

Curt.

How?

Gru.

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

Curt.

Let's ha 't, good Grumio.

Gru.

Lend thine ear.

Curt.

Here.

Gru.

There.

Curt.

This is ^note to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.

Gru.

And therefore 'tis called a sensible tale: and this cuff was but to knock at your ear, and beseech listening. Now I begin: Imprimis, we came down a foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress,—

Curt.

Both of ^note one horse?

Gru.

What's that to thee?

Curt.

Why, a horse.

Gru.

Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not crossed me, thou shouldst have heard how her horse fell and she under her horse; thou shouldst have heard in how miry a place, how she was bemoiled, how he left her with the horse upon her, how he beat me because her horse stumbled, how she waded through the dirt to pluck him off me, how he swore, how she prayed, that never prayed before, how I cried, how the horses ran away, how her bridle was burst, how I lost my crupper, with many things of worthy ^note memory,

which now shall die in oblivion and thou return unexperienced to thy ^note grave.

Curt.

By this reckoning he is ^note 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, Sugarsop ^{note note} and the rest: let their heads be sleekly ^note combed, their blue coats brushed and their garters of an indifferent ^note knit ^note: let them curtsy 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 calls ^note for company to countenance her.

Curt.

I call them forth to credit her.

Gru.

Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them.

Nath.

Welcome home, Grumio!

Phil.

How now, Grumio!

Jos.

What, Grumio!

Nich.

Fellow Grumio!

Nath. ^note

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?

Nath.

All things is ready ^note. 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.