When, with a most impatient devilish spirit,
Frets, call you these? 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,
And twangling Jack;

with twenty such vile terms,
As she had studied to misuse me so.
Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench;
I love her ten times more than e'er I did:

O, how I long to have some chat with her!
Bap. Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited!
Proceed in practice with my younger daughter;
She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns.
Signior Petruchio, will you go with us?
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?
Pet. I pray you do, I will attend her here,
[Exeunt 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, and when be married. -
But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak!
Enter CATHARINA.

Good-morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear.
Cath. Well have you heard, but something hard of
hearing;

They call me Catharine, that do talk of me.

Pet. You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain Kate,
And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst;
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,
Kate of Kate-Hall, my super-dainty Kate,
For dainties are all cates: and therefore, Kate,
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation;-
Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,
(Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,)
Myself am mov'd to woo thee for

my

wife.

Cath. In his tongue.
Pet. Whose tongue?

Cath. Your's, if you talk of tails; and so farewell! Pet. What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again,

Good Kate; I am a gentleman.

Cath. That I'll try.

[Striking him.
Pet. I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again.
Cath. So may you lose your arms:

If you strike me, you are no gentleman;
And if no gentleman, why, then no arms.
Pet. A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books!
Cath. What is your crest? a coxcomb?
Pet. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.
Cath. No cock of mine, you crow too like a craven.
Pet. Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so

sour.

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

Pet.Why here's no crab ; and therefore look not sour!
Cath. There is, there is.

Pet. Then show it me!
Cath. Had I a glass, I would.

Pet. What, you mean my face?

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

Pet. Now, by St George, I am too young for you.
Cath. Yet you are wither'd.

Pet. 'Tis with cares.

Cath. I care not.

Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth, you 'scape not so.
Cath. I chafe you, if I tarry; let me go!
Pet. No, not a whit; I find you passing gentle.
'Twas told me, you were rough, and coy, and sullen,
And now I find report a very liar;

For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous;
But slow in speech, yet sweet, as spring-time flowers:
Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance,
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 slanderous world! Kate, like the hazle-twig,
Is straight and slender; and as brown in hue,
As hazle nuts, and sweeter, than the kernels.
O, let me see thee walk! thou dost not halt.
Cath. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command.
Pet. Did ever Dian so become a grove,

Cath. Mov'd! in good time: let him, that mov'd you As Kate this chamber with her princely gait?

hither,

Remove you hence; I knew you at the first,

You were a moveable.

Pet. Why, what's a moveable?

Cath. A joint-stool.

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

Cath. Asses are made to bear, and so are you.
Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are you.
Cath. No such jade, sir, as you, if me you mean.
Pet. Alas, good Kate! I will not burden thee;
For, knowing thee to be but young and light,
Cath. Too light for such a swain, as you to catch;
And yet as heavy, as my weight should be.
Pet. Should be? should buz.

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

--

O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate;

And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportful!

Cath. Where did you study all this goodly speech?
Pet. It is extempore, from my mother-wit.
Cath. A witty mother! witless else her son.
Pet. Am I not wise?

Cath. Yes; keep you warm!

Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Catharine, in thy bed:
And therefore, setting all this chat aside,
Thus in plain terms: Your father has 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 cat to a Kate
Conformable, as other household Kates.
Here comes your father; never make denial,
I must and will have Katharine to my wife.
Re-enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and TRANIO.
Bap. Now,
Signior Petruchio: How speed you with
My daughter?

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

Bap. Why, how now, daughter Catharine? in your dumps?

Cath. Call you me, daughter? now I promise you, You have 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;
For patience she will prove a second Grissel;
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity:

And to conclude,-we have 'greed so well together,
That upon Sunday is the wedding day.

Cath. I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first.

Gre. Hark, Petruchio! she says, she'll see the hang'd 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 vied 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 Catharine 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 married o' Sunday.
[Exeunt Petruchio, and Catharina, severally.
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 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. 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'll compound this

strife:

'Tis deeds, must win the prize; and he, of both,
That can assure my daughter greatest dower,
Shall have Bianca's love.

Say, signior Gremio, what can you assure her?
Gre. First, as know, my house within the city
Is richly furnished with plate and gold,
Bains, 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, counterpoints,
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl,
Valance of Venice gold in needle-work,
Pewter and brass, and all things that belong
To house, or house-keeping: then, at my farm,
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls,
And all things answerable to this portion.
Myself am struck in years, I must confess;
And, if I die to-morrow, this is hers,
If, whilst I live, she will be only mine.

Tra. That, only, came well in.-Sir, list to me,
I am my father's heir, and only son:
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
I'll leave her houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pisa walls, as any oue

| Old signior Gremio has in Padua;
Besides two thousand ducats by the year,
Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure.—
What, have pinch'd you, signior Gremio?
Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year, of land!
My land amounts not to so much in all :
That she shall have; besides an argosy,
That now is lying in Marseilles 'road :-
What, have I chok'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-vied.
Bap. Imust 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 Catharine is to be married:
Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca
Be bride to you, if you make this assurance;
If not, to signior Gremio:

[Exit.

And so I take my leave, and thank you both.
Gre. Adieu, good neighbour!-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. Avengeance 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 suppos'd Lucentio

Must get a father, call'd-suppos'd Vincentio ;
And that's a wonder: fathers, commonly,

Do get their children; but, in this case of wooing,

A child shall get a sire,if I fail not of my cunning.[Exit.

А С Т III

SCENEI.-A room in Baptista's house.
Enter LUCENTIO, HORTENSIO, and BIANCA.
Lue. Fiddler, forbear! you grow too forward, sir:
Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
Her sister Catharine welcom'd you withal?
Hor. But, wrangling pedant, this is
The patroness of heavenly harmony:

He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage,
Make friends, invite, ves, and proclaim the banns,
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,
Whatever fortune stays him from his word.
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise;

Bian. Imust believe my master; else, I promise you, Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.

Cath. 'Would Catharine had never seen him though!
[Exit, weeping, followed by Bianca, and others.
Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep;
For such an injury would vex a saint,

Hor. You may go walk, [To Lucentio.] and give me Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.

two broken points: his horse hipped with an old "Twere well for Kate, and better for myself.
mothy saddle, the stirrups of no kindred: besides, But what a fool am I, to chat with you,
possessed with the glanders, and like to mose in the When I should bid good-morrow to my bride,
chine; troubled with the lampass, infected with the And seal the title with a lovely kiss?
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; swayed in
the back, and shoulder-shotten; ne'er-legged 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 re-
paired with knots; one girt six times pieced, and a
woman's crupper of velure, which hath two letters for
her name, fairly set down 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 forty fancies pricked in't for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparel; and not like a christian foot-boy, or a gentleman's lackey.

Tra. 'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion;

Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell'd.
Bap. I am glad he is come, howsoe'er he comes.
Bion. Why, sir, he comes not.

Bap. Didst thou not say, he comes?
Bion. Who? that Petruchio came?

Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came.

I

[Exeunt Petruchio, Grumio, and Biondello.
Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad attire:
We will persuade him, be it possible,
To put on better, ere he go to church.
Bap. I'll after him, and see the event of this. [Exit.
Tra. But, sir, to her love concerneth us to add
Her father's liking: which to bring to pass,
As I before imparted to your worship,
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 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.
Tta. 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 father, Minola,
The quaint musician, amorous Licio;
All for my master's sake, Lucentio.-
Re-enter GREMIO.

Bion. No, sir; I say, his horse comes with him on Signior Gremio! came you from the church?
his back.

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.
Fye! 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 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 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 have done
with words!

To me she's married, not unto my clothes.
Could I repair what she will wear in me,
As I can change these poor accoutrements,

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 Catherine should be his wife,
Ay, by gog's-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,
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, when he arose 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
He had 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,

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 echo.
I, 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.
Enter PETRUCHIO, CATHARINA, BIANCA, BAPTISTA, HOR-
TENSIO, GRUMIO, and Train.

[Music.

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;

Curt. This is 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 on one horse? Gru. What's that to thee? Curt. Why, a horse. Gru. Tell thou the tale. crossed me, thou should'st have heard, how her horse fell, and she under her horse; thou should'st have heard, in how miry a place: how she was bemoiled; [Exeunt. how he left her with the horse upon her; how he beat