Tra.
I pray, sir, tell me,—[advancing.] Is it possible,
That love should of a sudden take such hold?

Luc.
O, 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 the 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 have ^note touch'd you, nought remains but so,—
Redime te captum ^note quam queas minimo.

Luc.
Gramercies, lad; go forward: this contents;
The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's ^note 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 strond.

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 ^note, sir; [shaking him.] If you love the maid,
Bend thoughts and wits to atchieve her. Thus it stands:—
Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd,
That, 'till the father rid 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 ^note 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 ^note cunning schoolmasters to 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 schoolmaster,
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?

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 mean man ^note of Pisa—
'Tis hatch'd, and shall be so:—Tranio, at once
Uncase thee; take my colour'd hat, and cloak: [exchanging Cloaths with him.
When Biondello comes, he waits on thee;
But I will charm him first to keep his tongue.

Tra.
So had you need. Sith ^note it your pleasure is,
And I am ty'd to be obedient;
(For so your father charg'd me at our parting;
Be serviceable to my son, quoth he,—
Although, 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, to atchieve that maid
Whose sudden sight hath thrall'd my wounded eye. Enter Biondello.
Here comes the rogue:—Sirrah, where have you been?

Bio.
Where have I been? Nay, how now, where are you?
Master, has my fellow Tranio stoln your cloaths?
Or you stoln 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 countenance 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?

Bio.
Ay, sir, ne'er a whit.

Luc.
And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth;
Tranio is chang'd into Lucentio.

Bio.
The better for him; 'Would, I were so too!

Tra.
So would ^note I,14Q0346 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 company ^note:
When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio;
But in all places else, your master ^note Lucentio.

Luc.
Tranio, let's go:—
One thing more rests, that thyself execute;—
To make one among ^note these wooers: If thou ask me why,—
Sufficeth, my reasons are both good and weighty. [Exeunt.

1. S.
My lord, you nod; you do not mind the play.

Sly.
Yes, by saint Anne, do I. A good matter, surely;
Comes there any more of it?

Pag.
My lord, 'tis but begun.

Sly.
'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady;
'Would, it were done! SCENE II. The same. Before Hortensio's House. 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 his house:—
Here, sirrah Grumio; knock, I say.

Gru.
Knock, sir!
Whom should I knock, sir? Is there any man
That 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. [rings him by the Ears.

Gru.
Help, masters, help! my master ^note 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 ^{note note}, may I say.

Hor.
Alla nostra casa bene ^note venuto,
Molto honorato ^note signior mio Petruchio.—
Rise, Grumio, rise; we will compound this quarrel.

Gru.

Nay, 'tis no matter, sir, what he 'leges 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 ought I see) two and thirty,—a pip ^note out?

Pet.
A senseless villain!—Good Hortensio,
I bad 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?

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,
Where small experience grows. But, in a few,14Q0347
Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me:—
Antonio, my father, is deceas'd;
And I have thrust myself into this maze,
Happ'ly 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 ^note Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as we,
Few words suffice: and, therefore, if thou 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 shrowd
As Socrates' Xantippe, or a worse,
She moves me not, or not removes (at least)
Affection's edge in me; were ^note she as ^note 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, though she have as many diseases as two and fifty horses: why, nothing comes amiss, so money 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 ^note (as that is fault enough)
Is,—that she is intolerable curst,
And shrewd ^note, 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.

Pet.
Hortensio, peace; thou know'st not gold's effect:—
Tell me her father's name, and 'tis enough;
For 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, Catherina 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' 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 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 my treasure is:
He hath the jewel of my life in hold,
His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca;
And her withholds ^note from me, and other more,
Suitors to her, and rivals in my love:
Supposing it a thing impossible,
(For those defects I have before rehears'd)
That ever Catherina will be woo'd,
Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en;—
That none shall have access unto Bianca,
'Till Catherine the curst have got a husband.

Gru.
Catherine 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 schoolmaster
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 myself. Enter, on the opposite Side, Gremio; Lucentio with him, with Books under his Arm.

Gru.

Here's no knavery See; to beguile the old folks, how the young folks lay their heads ^note together!—Master, master, look about you:—Who goes there? ha. ^note

Hor.
Peace, Grumio; 'tis the rival of my love:—
Petruchio, stand we by a little while.

Gru.
A proper stripling, and an amorous! [they retire.

Gre.
O, very well; I have perus'd the note. [giving it back.
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. Here, &dagger2; take your papers ^note too,
And let me have them very well perfum'd;
For she is sweeter than perfume itself,
To whom they go. What ^note will you read to her?

Luc.
Whate'er I read to her, I'll plead for you,
As for my patron,—stand you so assur'd,—
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.—God save you, signior Gremio! [advancing.

Gre.
You are ^note well met,14Q0348 signior Hortensio. Trow you
Whither I am going? To Baptista Minola.
I promis'd him, to enquire carefully
About a schoolmaster 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 ^note 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.

&clquo;Gru.
&clquo;—and that his bags shall prove.&crquo;

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 Catherine;
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? Pray, what countryman?

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

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

Pet.
Will I live?

&clquo;Gru.
&clquo;Will he woo her? ay, or I'll hang her.&crquo;

Pet.
Why came I hither, but to that intent?
Think you, a little din can daunt mine ears?
Have I not in my time heard lions roar?
Have I not heard the sea, puft up with winds,
Rage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat?
Have I not heard great ordinance 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' clangue?
And do you tell me of a woman's tongue;
That gives not half so great a blow to the ear ^note,
As will a chesnut in a farmer's fire?
Tush, tush! fear boys with bugs.

&clquo;Gru.
&clquo;For he fears none.&crquo;

Gre.
Hortensio, hark!
This gentleman is happily arriv'd,
My mind presumes, for his own good, and ours ^note.

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.

&clquo;Gru.
&clquo;I would, I were as sure of a good dinner.&crquo;

Enter Tranio, brave; 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?

Gre.
He ^note that14Q0349 has the two fair daughters? is't he you mean?

Tra.
Even he, ^note sir.

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

Tra.
Perhaps, him and her, sir; What have you to do?

Pet.
Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray.

Tra.
I love no chiders, sir:—Biondello, let's away.

&clquo;Luc.
&clquo;Well begun, Tranio.&crquo;

Hor.
Sir, a word ere you go;—
Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea, or no?

Tra.
An 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 you ^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 the choice love of signior Gremio.

Hor.
That she is ^note the chosen of signior Hortensio.

Tra.
Softly, my masters! if you be gentlemen,
Do me this right,—hear me with ^note patience.
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,
Though Paris came, in hope to speed alone.

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

Luc.
Sir ^note, 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 ask ^note you this;—
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 ^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, insooth;—
The youngest daughter, whom you harken for,
Her father keeps from all access of suitors;
And will not promise her to any man,
Until her elder 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 us all, and me amongst the rest;
An if you break the ice, and do this feat ^note,—
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,—gratify this gentleman,
To whom we all rest generally beholding.

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

Gru.
O excellent motion!—Fellows, let's be gone.

Hor.
The motion's good indeed, and be it so;—
Petruchio, I'll ^note be your ben venuto. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. The same. A Room in Baptista's House. Enter Catherina, and Bianca, her Hands bound.

Bia.
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,—14Q0350
Unbind my hands, I'll pull 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.

Cat.
Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee ^note, tell
Whom thou lov'st best: see thou dissemble not.

Bia.
Believe me, sister, of all the men alive,
I never yet beheld that special face
Which I could fancy more than any other.

Cat.
Minion thou ly'st; Is't ^note not Hortensio?

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

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

Bia.
Is it for him you do envy me so?
Nay, then you jest; and now I well perceive,
You have but jested with me all this while:
I pr'ythee sister ^note, Kate, unty ^note my hands.

Cat.
If that be jest, [striking her.] then all the rest was so.

Enter Baptista.

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

Cat.
Her silence flouts me, and I'll be reveng'd. [flies after Bianca.

Bap.
What, in my sight?—[stopping her.] Bianca, get thee in. [Exit Bianca.

Cat.
Will ^note 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 Catherine.

Bap.
Was ever ^note gentleman thus griev'd as I?
But who comes here? Enter Gremio, and Lucentio; Petruchio, with Hortensio as a Musician; and Tranio, with Biondello attending, bearing a Lute and Books.

Gre.
Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.

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

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

Bap.
I have a daughter, sir, call'd—Catherina.

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 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 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're welcome, sir; and he, for your good sake:
But for my daughter Catherine,—this I know,
She is not for your turn, the more 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 I ^note 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,14Q0351 Petruchio, I pray, let
Us, that are poor petitioners, speak too:
Baccare! ^note you are marvelous forward, sir.

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 [to Baptista.

This is a gift very grateful, I am sure of it:
And,—to express the like kindness myself,
That have been more beholding ^note to you than any,—
I freely give unto you this young scholar, [presenting Lucentio.
That hath been long studying at Rheims; as cunning
In Latin, Greek ^note, and other languages,
As the other in musick, and the mathematicks:
His name is Cambio; pray, accept ^note his service.

Bap.
A thousand thanks, good signior Gremio:—
Welcome, good Cambio.—But, gentle sir, [to Tra.
Methinks, you walk here like a stranger; May I
Be bold ^note to know the cause too of your coming?

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 &dagger2; a simple instrument,
And this &dagger2; small packet of Greek and Latin books: [giving the Lute, and Books.
If you accept them, then their worth is great.

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're very welcome, sir.—

Take you &dagger2; the lute,—and you &dagger2; the set of books,—
You shall go see your pupils presently.—
Hola, within there!— Enter a Servant.
—Sirrah, shew these ^note gentlemen
To my two ^note daughters; and then ^note tell them both, ^note
These are their tutors; bid them use them well.— [Exit Servant, with Luc. and Hor. Bio. follows.
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 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 for ^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 extream 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 may'st 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. Re-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.
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, quoth she? I'll fume with them:
And, with that word, she strook 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 ^note study'd 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, [to Hor.] and be not so discomfited ^note:
Proceed in practise 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 attend ^note her here,— [Exeunt Bap. Gre. Tra. and Hor.
And woo her with some spirit when she comes.
Say, that she rail; why, then I'll tell her plain,
She signs ^note 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 banes, and when be marry'd:—
But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak. Enter Catherine.
Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear.

Cat.
Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing;
They call me—Catherine, 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 ^note: 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 ^note,
(Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs)

Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife.

Cat.
Mov'd! in good time. Let him that mov'd you hither ^note,
Remove you hence: I knew you at the first,
You were a moveable.

Pet.
Why, what's a moveable?

Cat.
A joint-stool.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pet.
Should be? should buz.14Q0352

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

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

Cat.
Ay, for a turtle; as he takes a buzzard.

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

Cat.
If I be waspish, best beware my sting.

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

Cat.
Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies.

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

Cat.
In his tail! in his tongue.

Pet.
In his tongue? whose tongue?

Cat.
Yours, if you talk of tails ^note; and so farewel.

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

Cat.
That I'll try. [striking him.

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

Cat.
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.

Cat.
What is your crest? a coxcomb?

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

Cat.
No cock of mine, you crow too like a craven.

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

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

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

Cat.
There is, there is.

Pet.
Then shew it me.

Cat.
Had I a glass, I would.

Pet.
What, you mean my face.

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

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

Cat.
Yet you are wither'd.

Pet.
'Tis with cares.

Cat.
I care not.

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

Cat.
I chase 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 the world report, that Kate doth limp?.

O 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.

Cat.
Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st 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 chast, and Dian sportful.

Cat.
Where did you study all this goodly speech?

Pet.
It is extempore from my mother-wit.

Cat.
A witty mother!14Q0353 witness ^note else her son.

Pet.
Am I not wise?

Cat.
Yes; keep you warm.

Pet.
Marry, so I mean, sweet Catherine, 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 marry'd to no man but me:
For I am he am born to tame you, Kate;
And bring you from a wild Kate to ^note a Kate
Conformable, as other houshold Kates. Re-enter Baptista, Gremio, and Tranio.
Here comes your father; never make denial,
I must and will have Catherine to my wife.

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 Catherine? in your dumps?

Cat.
Call you me—daughter? now I promise you,
You have shew'd a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one half lunatick;
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;
For patience she will prove a second Grizelde,
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity:
And to conclude,—we have 'greed so well together,
That upon sunday is the wedding-day.

Cat.
I'll see thee hang'd o'sunday first.

Gre.
Hark, Petruchio!
She says, she'll see thee hang'd o'sunday first.

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

Pet.
Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for myself;
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: O, 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.
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, and bid the guests;
I will be sure, my Catherine shall be fine.

Bap.
I know not what to say: but give me 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 marry'd o'sunday. [Exeunt Cat. and Pet.

Gre.
Was ever match clapt 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 the ^note 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.
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.

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 ^note love.—And, first, to you;
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 stuff'd my crowns;
In cypress chests my arras counterpanes ^note, ^note
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
Fine linnen, Turky cushions bost with pearl,
Valance ^note of Venice gold in needle-work,
Pewter, and brass,—and all things that belong ^note
To house, or house-keeping: then, at my farm,
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail ^note,
Six-score fat oxen standing in my stalls,
And all things answerable to this portion.
Myself am strook 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. ^note—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!—
My land amounts but to ^note so much in all,

That she shall have; besides an argosy,
That now is lying in Marseilles' ^note road:—
What, have I choak'd you with an argosy?

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, 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-vy'd.

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,
I am thus resolv'd:—On sunday next, you know,
My daughter Catherine is to be marry'd:
Now, on the sunday following, shall Bianca
Be bride to you, Lucentio, 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.

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 ^note a father, call'd—suppos'd 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. [Exit. SCENE II. The same. Another Room. Enter Lucentio, amd Bianca, conversing; to them, Hortensio.

Luc.
Fidler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir:
Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
Her sister Catherine welcom'd you withal?

Hor.
She is a shrew;14Q0354 but, 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.
Prepost'rous 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, when I ^note pause, serve in your harmony.

Hor.
Sirrah, I will not ^note bear these braves of thine.

Bia.
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 ty'd to hours, nor 'pointed times,
But learn my lessons as I please myself.
And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down:—

Take you your instrument, play you the whiles;
His lecture will be done, ere you have tun'd.

Hor.
You'll leave his lecture, when I am in tune? [to Bia. taking up his Lute.

Luc.
That will be never;—tune your instrument.

Bia.
Where left we last? [sitting to a Table with Luc.

Luc.
Here, madam:— [shewing a Book.
Hic ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia ^note tellus;
  Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.

Bia.

Construe them.

Luc.

Hic 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 ^note, 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.

Bia.
Let's hear:— [Hor. plays.
O, fie! the treble jars.

Luc.
Spit in the hole, man,
And tune again.

Bia.
Now let me see if I can construe it.

Hic ibat Simois, I know you not;—Hic est Sigeia ^note 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— ^note
&clquo;How fiery and how forward is our pedant ^note!&crquo;
&clquo;Now, for my life, the knave ^note doth court my love.&crquo;
&clquo;Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet.&crquo;

Bia.
In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. [seeing Hor. listen.

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

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

Hor.
You ^note may go walk, [to Luc.] and give me leave a while;
My lessons make no musick in three parts.

&clquo;Luc.
&clquo;Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait, [retiring.
&clquo;And watch withal; for, but I be deceiv'd,&crquo;
&clquo;Our fine musician groweth amorous.&crquo;

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. [gives a Paper.

Bia.
Why, I am past my gamut long ago.

Hor.
Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.

Bia.
Gamut I am, the ground of all accord, [reads.
    A re, to plead Hortensio's passion;
  B me ^note, Bianca, take him for thy lord,
    C faut, that loves with all affection:
  D sol re, one cliff, not two notes have I;
    E la mi, show me pity, or I die.
Call you this—gamut? tut! I like it not:

Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice,
To change ^note true rules for odd ^note inventions. Enter a Servant.

Ser.
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.

Bia.
Farewel, sweet masters both; I must be gone. [Exeunt Ser. and Bia.

Luc.
'Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. [Exit Lucentio.

Hor.
But I have cause to pry into this pedant;
Methinks, he looks as though he were in ^note love:—
Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble,
To cast thy wand'ring eyes on every stale,
Seize thee, that list; If once I find thee ranging,
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. [Exit. ACT III. SCENE I. The same. Court before the House. Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Catherine, Bianca, and Attendants; Lucentio, and Hortensio among them.

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

Cat.
No shame but mine: I must, forsooth, be forc'd

To give my hand, oppos'd against my heart,
Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen;
Who woo'd in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
I told you, I,—he was a 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 ^note, and proclaim the banes;
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
Now must the world point at poor Catherine;
And say,—Lo! there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her.

Tra.
Patience, good Catherine, and Baptista too;
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
Whatever fortune stays him from his word:
Though he be blunt, I know ^note him passing wise;
Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.

Cat.
'Would, Catherine had never seen him ^note though! [Exit, weeping: is follow'd by Bianca, Gremio, Hortensio, and Others.

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

Bio.

Master, master!14Q0355 [to Tra.] news, old news, and such news as you never heard of!

Bap.

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

Bio.

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

Bap.

Is he come?

Bio.

Why, no, sir.

Bap.

What then?

Bio.

He is coming.

Bap.

When will he be here?

Bio.

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

Tra.

But say, what be thine ^note old news?

Bio.

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 buckl'd, another lac'd; an old rusty sword ta'en out of the town armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless, with two broken points: His horse hip'd with an old mothy saddle, the stirrops ^note of no kindred: besides, possest with the glanders, and like to mose in ^note the chine; troubl'd with the lampass, infected with the fashions, ^note full of windgalls od wind-galls, sped with spavins, ray'd with the yellows, past cure of the vives ^{note note}, stark spoil'd with the staggers, begnawn with the bots; sway'd ^note in the back, and shoulder-shotten; near-leg'd before, and with a half-check'd bit, and a head-stall of sheep's-leather; which, being restrain'd to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repaired with knots: one girth six times piec'd, and a woman's crupper of velure; which hath two letters for her name, fairly set down in studs, and here and there piec'd with pack-thread.

Bap.

Who comes with him?

Bio.

O, sir, his lacquey, 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 prick'd in't for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparel; and not like a christian foot-boy, or a gentleman's lacquey.

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

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

Bio.
Why, sir, he comes not.

Bap.
Didst thou not say, he comes?

Bio.
Who? that Petruchio came?

Bap.
Ay, that Petruchio came.

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

Bap.
Why, that's all one.

Bio.
Nay, by saint Jamy; I hold you a penny,
A horse and a man is more than one, and yet not many. Enter Petruchio, and his Man Grumio, oddly habited both.

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

Bap.
You are welcome, sir.

Pet.
And yet I come not well.

Bap.
And yet you halt not.

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

Pet.
Tut! were it better, I should rush in thus.
But where is ^note Kate? where is my lovely bride?—
How does my father?—Gentles, methinks, you frown.
And wherefore gaze this goodly company;
As if they saw some wond'rous monument,
Some comet, or unusual prodigy?

Bap.
Why, sir, you know, this is your wedding-day:
First were we sad, fearing you would not come;
Now sadder, that you come so unprovided.
Fie! doff this habit, shame to your estate,
An eye-sore to our solemn festival.

Tra.
And tell us, what occasion of import
Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife,
And sent you hither so unlike yourself?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bap.
I'll after him, and see the event of this. [Exeunt Bap. and Attendants. Tranio follows; but is beckon'd back by Lucentio, who converses a while apart.

Tra.
But to her love, sir ^note,14Q0356 concerneth us to add
Her father's liking: Which to bring to pass,
As I ^note 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 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 despight of all the world.

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

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

Tra.
And is the bride and bridegroom coming home?

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

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

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

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

Gre.
Tut! she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him.
I'll tell you, sir Lucentio; When the priest
Should ask ^note—if Catherine should be his wife,
Ay, by gogs-wouns, quoth he; and swore so loud,
That, all amaz'd, the priest let fall the book:
And, as he stoop'd again to take it up,

This mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff,
That down fell priest and book, and book and priest;
Now take them up, quoth he, if any list.

Tra.
What said the wench ^note, when he rose up ^note again?

Gre.
Trembl'd, 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 he ^note had 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 reason,—
But that his beard grew thin and hungerly,
And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking.
This done, he took the bride about the neck;
And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack,
That, at the parting, all the church did eccho.
I ^note, seeing this, came thence for very shame;
And after me, I know, the rout is coming:
Such a mad marriage never was before!
Hark, hark! I hear the minstrels play. [Musick. Enter Petruchio, and Catherine, as marry'd; Baptista, Grumio, Hortensio, Bianca, and Train.

Pet.
Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains;
I know, you think to dine with me to-day,
And have prepar'd great store of wedding cheer;
But so it is, my haste doth call me hence,
And therefore here I mean to take my leave.

Bap.
Is't possible, you will away to-night?

Pet.
I must away to-day, before night come:—

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

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

Pet.
It may not be.

Gre.
Let me entreat you, sir.

Pet.
It cannot be.

Cat.
Let me entreat you then.

Pet.
I am content.

Cat.
Are you content to stay?

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

Cat.
Now, if you love me, stay.

Pet.
Grumio, my horses ^note.

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

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

Pet.
O, Kate, content thee; pr'ythee, be not angry.

Cat.
I will be angry; What hast thou to do?—
Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure.

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

Cat.
Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner:—
I see, a woman may be made ^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,
Carowze 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,
My houshold-stuff, my field, my barn, my stable,
My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing;
And here she stands, touch her whoever dare;
I'll bring mine action on the proudest he,
That stops my way in Padua.—Grumio,
Draw forth thy weapon, we're beset with thieves;
Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man:—
Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch thee, Kate;
I'll buckler thee against a million. [Exit, hurrying Catherine out; Grumio, with his Sword drawn, bringing up the Rear.

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!—
Mistress, ^note what's your opinion of your sister?

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

Gre.
I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated.

Bap.
Neighbours and friends, though bride and bridegroom wants
For to supply the places at the table,

You know, there wants no junkets at the feast:—
Lucentio, you supply ^note the ^note 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, gentlemen; let's go. [Exeunt.

Sly.
Sim, When will14Q0357 the fool come again?

1. S.
Anon, my lord.

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

1. S.
So I do, my lord.

Sly.
Here, Sim, I drink to thee. [drinks. SCENE II. A Hall in Petruchio's Country-House. Enter Grumio, halting.

Gru.

Fie, fie, on all tir'd jades! on all mad masters! and all foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? was ever man so 'wray'd? was ever man so weary? I am sent before to make a fire, and they are coming after to warm them. Now, were not I a little pot, and soon hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roof of my mouth, my heart in my belly, ere I should come by a fire to thaw me:—But I, with blowing the fire, shall warm myself; for, considering the weather, a taller man than I will take cold. Hola, ho! Curtis!

Cur.

Who is that, calls so coldly?

Gru.

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

Cur.

Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio?

Gru.

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

Cur.

Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported?

Gru.

She was, good Curtis, before this frost: but, thou know'st, winter tames man, woman, and beast; for it hath tam'd my old master, and my new mistress,—and thyself ^note, fellow Curtis.14Q0358

Cur.

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

Gru.

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

Cur.

I prythee, ^note 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.

Cur.

There's fire ready; And therefore, good Grumio, the news?

Gru.

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

Cur.

Come, you are so full of coney-catching:—

Gru.

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

Cur.

All ready; And therefore, I pray thee, news ^note?

Gru.

First, know, my horse is tired; my master and

mistress fall'n out.

Cur.

How?

Gru.

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

Cur.

Let's ha't, good Grumio.

Gru.

Lend thine ear.

Cur.

Here.

Gru.

There.

Cur.

This is ^note 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 list'ning. Now I begin:—Inprimis, we came down a foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress:—

Cur.

Both on one ^note horse?

Gru.

What's that to thee?

Cur.

Why, a horse.

Gru.

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

Cur.

By this reck'ning, 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, Sugar-sop, and the rest: let their heads be slickly

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

Cur.

They are.

Gru.

Call them forth.

Cur.

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

Gru.

Why, she hath a face of her own.

Cur.

Who knows not that?

Gru.

Thou, it seems; that call'st ^note for company to countenance her.

Cur.

I call them forth to credit her.

Gru.

Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them.

1. S.

Welcome home, Grumio.

2. S.

How now, Grumio?

3. S.

What, Grumio!

4. S.

Fellow Grumio!

1. S.

How now, old lad?

Gru.

Welcome, you;—how now, you;—what, you; —fellow, you;—and thus much for greeting. Now, my spruce companions, is all ready, and all things neat?

1. S.

All things are ready ^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.