Lucentio.
Fidler, forbear; you grow too forward, Sir:
Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
Her sister Catharine welcom'd you withal?

Hor.
Wrangling Pedant, this is
The patroness of heavenly harmony;
Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in musick we have spent an hour,
Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.

Luc.
Preposterous ass! that never read so far
To know the cause why musick was ordain'd:
Was it not to refresh the mind of man
After his studies, or his usual pain?
Then give me leave to read philosophy,
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.

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 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;
^{1 note}Pedascale, I'll watch you better yet.

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

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,
  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.
Elemi, show pity, or I die.
  Call you this Gamut? tut, I like it not;
Old fashions please me best; I'm not so nice
To change true rules for new 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;
Sieze thee, who list; if once I find thee ranging,
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. [Exit. SCENE II. 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,
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. SCENE III. 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?

Bion.

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

Tra.

But, say, what to thine old news?

&plquo;Bion.

&plquo;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-check't 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 pack- thread.&prquo;

Bap.

Who comes with him?

&plquo;Bion.

&plquo;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, ^{2 note}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.&prquo;

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 not?

Bap.

Ay, that Petruchio came.

Bion.

No, Sir; I say, his horse comes with him on his back.

Bap.

Why, that's all one.

Bion.
Nay, by St. Jamy, I hold you a penny,
A horse and a man is more than one, and yet not many. SCENE IV. 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 yourself?

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,
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. SCENE V.

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 grey-beard Gremio,
The narrow-prying Father Minola,
The quaint musician amorous Licio;
All for my master's sake, Lucentio. SCENE VI. 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.

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,
&wlquo;He calls for wine: a health, quoth he; as if
&wlquo;H'ad been aboard carowsing to his Mates
&wlquo;After a storm; quafft off the muscadel,
&wlquo;And threw the sops all in the sexton's face;
&wlquo;Having no other cause, but that his beard
&wlquo;Grew thin and hungerly, and seem'd to ask
&wlquo;His sops as he was drinking. This done, he took
&wlquo;The Bride about the neck, and kist her lips
&wlquo;With such a clamorous smack, that at the parting
&wlquo;All the church echo'd;&wrquo; 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. SCENE VII. 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,
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 entreat 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: ^{3 note}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.

Grey.
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.

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 here ^note 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.

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