Bian. Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,
To make a bondmaid and a slave of me;
That I disdain: but for these other
gawds,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.
Whom thou lovest best: see thou dissemble not.
10
Bian. Believe me, sister, of all
the men alive
I never yet beheld that special face
Which I could fancy more than any other.
Kath. Minion, thou liest.
Is't not Hortensio?
Bian. If
you affect him, sister, here I swear
15
I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have him.
Kath. O then, belike, you fancy riches more:
Nay then you jest, and now I well perceive
20
You have but jested with me all this while:
I prithee, sister Kate,
untie my hands.
Kath. If that be jest, then all the rest was so. [Strikes her.
Bap. Why, how now, dame! whence grows this insolence?
Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl! she weeps.
25
Go ply
thy needle; meddle not with her.
For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit,
Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee?
When did she cross thee with a bitter word?
Kath. Her silence flouts me, and I'll be revenged.
30
Bap. What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in.
Kath. What, will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see
She is your treasure, she must have a husband;
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day
And for your love to her lead apes in hell.
35
Talk not to me: I will go sit and weep
Till I can find occasion of revenge. [Exit.
Bap. Was
ever gentleman thus grieved as I?
But who comes here?
Enter Gremio,
Lucentio
in the habit of a mean man;
Petruchio,
with Hortensio as a musician;
and Tranio,
with Biondello
bearing a lute and books.
Gre. Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.
40
Bap. Good morrow, neighbour Gremio.
God save you,
gentlemen!
Pet. And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter
Call'd Katharina,
fair and virtuous?
Bap. I have a daughter, sir, called Katharina.
45
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,
50
Her
wondrous qualities and mild behaviour,
Am bold to show myself a forward guest
Within your house, to make mine eye the witness
Of that report which I so oft have heard.
And, for an entrance to my entertainment,
55
I do present you with a man of mine, [Presenting Hortensio.
Cunning in music and the mathematics,
To instruct her fully in those sciences,
Whereof I know she is not ignorant:
Accept of him, or else you do me wrong:
60
His name is
Licio, born in Mantua.
Bap. You're welcome, sir; and he, for your good sake.
She is not for your turn,
the more my grief.
Pet. I see you do not mean to part with her,
65
Or else you like not of my company.
Bap. Mistake me not; I speak but
as I find.
Whence are you, sir? what may I call your name?
Pet. Petruchio is my name; Antonio's son,
A man well known throughout all Italy.
70
Bap. I know him well: you are welcome for his sake.
Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too:
Baccare! you are marvellous forward.
Pet. O, pardon me, Signior Gremio; I would fain be doing.
75
Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am sure of it.
To
express the like kindness, myself, that have been more
80
his name is Cambio;
pray, accept his service.
good Cambio. But, gentle sir [to Tranio], methinks you
85
walk like a stranger: may I be so bold to know the cause
of your coming?
Tra. Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own;
That, being a stranger in this city here,
Do make
myself 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,
95
I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo
And free access and favour as the rest:
And, toward the education of your daughters,
I here bestow a simple instrument,
And this small
packet of Greek and Latin books:
If you accept them, then their worth is
great.
Tra. Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio.
105
Take you the lute, and you the set of books;
You shall go see your pupils presently.
These are their tutors: bid them use them well.
[Exit Servant, with Luc. and Hor., Bio. following.
110
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.
115
You
knew my father well, and in him me,
Left
solely heir to all his lands and goods,
Which I have better'd rather than decreased:
Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love,
What dowry shall I have with her to wife?
120
Bap. After my death the one half of my lands,
And in possession twenty thousand crowns.
Pet. And, for that dowry, I 'll assure her
of
Her widowhood, be it that she survive me,
125
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,
130
I am as peremptory as she proud-minded;
And where two raging fires meet together
They do consume the thing that feeds their fury:
Though little fire grows great with little wind,
Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all:
135
So I to her and so she yields to me;
For I am rough and woo not like a babe.
Bap. Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed!
But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words.
Pet. Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds,
140
That
shake 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 prove a soldier:
145
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;
150
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,
155
As on a pillory, looking through the lute;
And twangling Jack; with twenty such vile terms,
As
had she studied to misuse me so.
Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench;
160
I love her ten times more than e'er I did:
O, how I long to have some chat with her!
Proceed in practice with my younger daughter;
She's apt to learn and thankful for good turns.
165
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
170
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,
175
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.
Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear.
Kath. Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:
They call me Katharine that do talk of me.
Pet. You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain Kate,
185
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
Kates, and therefore, Kate,
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation;
190
Hearing thy mildness praised in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty
sounded,
Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,
Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.
Kath. Moved! in good time: let him that moved you hither
195
Remove you hence: I knew you at the first
You were a moveable.
Pet. Why, what's a moveable?
Pet. Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me.
Kath. Asses are made to bear, and so are you.
Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are you.
Pet. Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee!
For, knowing thee to be but young and light,—
Kath. Too light for such a swain as you to catch;
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.
205
Kath. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.
Pet. O slow-wing'd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee?
Kath. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.
Pet. Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry.
Kath. If I be waspish,
best beware my sting.
210
Pet. My remedy is then, to pluck it out.
Kath. Ay, if the fool could
find it where it lies.
Pet. Who knows not where a wasp
does wear his sting?
In his tail.
Kath. Yours, if you talk of
tails: and so farewell.
215
Pet. What, with my tongue in your tail?
nay, come again,
Good Kate; I am a gentleman.
Kath. That I'll try. [She strikes him.
Pet. I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again.
Kath. So may you lose your arms:
If you strike me, you are no gentleman;
220
And if no gentleman, why then no arms.
Pet. A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books!
Kath. What is your crest? a coxcomb?
Pet. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.
Kath. No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven.
225
Pet. Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour.
Kath. It is my fashion, when I see a crab.
Pet. Why, here's no crab; and therefore look not
sour.
Kath. There is, there is.
Kath. Had I a glass, I would.
Pet. What, you mean my face?
230
Kath. Well aim'd of such a young one.
Pet. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.
Kath. Yet you are wither'd.
Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth you scape not so.
Kath. I chafe you, if I tarry: let me go.
235
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:
240
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.
245
Why
does the world report that Kate doth limp?
O slanderous world! Kate like the hazel-twig
Is straight and slender and as brown in hue
As hazel-nuts and sweeter than the kernels.
O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt.
250
Kath. 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 chaste and Dian sportful!
255
Kath. Where did you study all this goodly speech?
Pet. It is extempore, from my mother-wit.
Kath. Yes; keep you warm.
Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, in thy bed:
260
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;
265
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,
270
Conformable as other household
Kates.
Here comes your father: never make denial;
I must and will have Katharine to my wife.
Bap. Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?
Pet. How but well, sir? how but well?
275
It were impossible I should speed amiss.
Bap. Why, how now, daughter Katharine! in your dumps?
Kath. Call you me daughter? now, I promise you
You have show'd a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one half lunatic;
280
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,
285
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.
Kath. I'll see thee hang'd
on Sunday first.
Gre. Hark, Petruchio; she says she'll see thee
hang'd first.
Tra. Is this your speeding?
nay, then, good night our
part!
Pet. Be patient,
gentlemen; I choose her for myself:
295
If she and I be pleased, what's that to you?
'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
That she shall still be curst in company.
I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe
How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate!
300
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,
305
A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.
Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day.
I will be sure my Katharine shall be fine.
310
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:
315
We will have rings, and things, and fine array;
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.
320
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:
325
Now is the day we long have looked for:
I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.
Tra. And I am one that love Bianca more
Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.
Gre. Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I.
Tra. Greybeard, thy love doth freeze.
330
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,
335
That can assure my daughter greatest dower
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;
340
Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands;
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;
In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns;
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
345
Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl,
Valance of Venice gold in needlework,
Pewter and brass and all things that
belongTo house or housekeeping: then, at my farm
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
350
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.
355
Tra. That 'only' came well in. Sir, list to me:
I am my father's heir and only son:
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
I'll leave her houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
360
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!
365
My land amounts
not to so much in all:
That she shall have; besides an argosy
What, have I choked you with an argosy?
Tra. Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less
370
Than three great argosies; besides two galliasses,
And twelve tight galleys: these I will assure her,
And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next.
Gre. Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more;
And she can have no more than all I have:
375
If you like me, she shall have me and mine.
Tra. Why, then the maid is mine from all the world,
By your firm promise: Gremio is out-vied.
Bap. I must confess your offer is the best;
And, let your father make her the assurance,
380
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?
385
I am thus
resolved: on Sunday next you know
My daughter Katharine is to be married:
If not, to Signior Gremio:
390
And so, I take my leave, and thank you both.
Gre. Adieu, good neighbour. [Exit Baptista.
Now I fear thee not:
Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool
To give thee all, and in his waning age
Set foot under thy table: tut, a toy!
395
An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. [Exit.
Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide!
Yet I have faced it with a card of ten.
'Tis in my head to do my master good:
I see no reason but supposed Lucentio
400
Must get a father, call'd—supposed 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.