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,

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! 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 il 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 aught I see, two and thirty, a pip out?

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;
^{3 note}

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)
^{4 note}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,

^{5 note}

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 ^{6 note}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 intolerably curst;
And shrewd, and forward, 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:
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;
And 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,
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.

Previous section

Next section