They call me-Katharine, 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.
Kath. Mov'd! in good time: let him that mov'd
you hither,

Remove you hence I knew you at the first,
You were a moveable.

Pet.
Kath. A joint-stool.

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.
Kath. 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,—
Kath. Too light for such a swain as you to catch;
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.
Pet. Should be? should buz.
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.
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 doth wear
his sting?

In his tail.

Whose tongue?

Kath. In his tongue.
Pet.
Kath. Yours, if you talk of tails; and so fare-
well.

Pet. What, with my tongue in your tail? nay,
come again,

Good Kate; I am a gentleman.
Kath.

That I'll try.
[Striking 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;
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.1

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.
Pet. Then show it me.
Kath.

Had I a glass, I would.
Pet. What, you mean my face?
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.

'Tis with cares.
I care not.

Kath.

(1) A degenerate cock.

(2) By.

Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth, you 'scape

not so.

Kath. 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 cour

teous;

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.
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!
Kath. Where did you study all this goodly

speech?

Pet. It is extempore, from my mother-wit.
Kath. A witty mother! witless else her son.
Pet. Am I not wise?

Kath.
Yes; keep you warm.
Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, 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 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 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;
|| 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 to
gether,

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!

TAMING OF THE SHREW.

Pet. Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for
myself;

265

-Sir, list to me,

Tra. That only came well in-
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
Kate!-Besides two thousand ducats by the year,
Old signior Gremio has in Padua ;

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
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,2
How tame, when men and women are alone,

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 not to so much in all :
That she shall have; besides an argosy,

A meacock3 wretch can make the curstest shrew.--That now is lying in Marseilles' road :

:

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 Katharine 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 Katharine, 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.
Skipper, stand back; 'tis age that nourisheth.
But thine doth fry.
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 you know, my house within the
city,

Is richly furnish'd 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, 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 housekeeping: 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.

(1) To vie and revie were terme at cards now superseded by the word brag.

(2) It is well worth seeing. (3) A dastardly creature.

(4) Coverings for heds; now called counterpanes.

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 twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next. And twelve tight gallies: these I will assure her,

Gre. Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more; If you like me, she shall have me and mine. And she can have no more than all I have ;

Tra. Why, then the maid is mine from all the
world,

By your firm promise; Gremio is out-vied.
And, let your father make her the assurance,
Bap. I must confess, your offer is the best;
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 Katharine 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:

And so I take my leave, and thank you both. [Ex.
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.
Yet I have faced it with a card of ten.7
Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide!
I see no reason, but suppos'd Lucentio
'Tis in my head to do my master good
Must get a father, call'd-suppos'd Vincentio;
And that's a wonder: fathers, commonly,
A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning.
Do get their children; but, in this case of wooing,
[Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE I-A room in Baptista's house. Enter
Lucentio, Hortensio, and Bianca.

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

Hor. But, wrangling pedant, this is
The patroness of heavenly harmony:
Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in music we have spent an hour,
Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.
Luc. Preposterous ass! that never read so far
To know the cause why music was ordain'd!

(5) A large merchant-ship.

(6) A vessel of burthen worked both with sails
and oars.
(7) The highest card.

stay. Hor. But I have cause to pry into this pedant; Methinks he looks as though he were in love:Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble, Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before,-Simois, I To cast thy wand'ring eyes on every stale, am Lucentio, hic est, son unto Vincentio of Pisa, Seize thee, that list: If once I find thee ranging, -Sigeia tellus, disguised thus to get your love ;—|| Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. Hic steterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing,-Priami, is my man Tranio,-regia, bearing my port,―celsa senis, that we might beguile the old pantaloon.2

Bion. Why, no, sir.

Bap. What then?
Bion. He is coming.

Bap. When will he be here?

TAMING OF THE SHREW.

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

Now sadder, that you come so unprovided.
Fie! doff this habit, shame to your estate,
An eye-sore to our solemn festival.

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

267

Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word,
Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear:
Though in some part enforced to digress ;5
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;

Tra. But, say, what :-To thine old news. Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new hat and an old jerkin; a pair of old breeches, thrice turned; a pair of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled, another laced; an old rusty sword ta'en out of the town armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless; with two broken points: His horse hipped with an old mothy saddle, the stirrups of no kindred: besides, possessed with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine; troubled with the lampass, infected with the fashions, full of wind-galls, sped with spavins, raied with the yellows, past cure of the fives,2 stark spoil'd with the staggers, begnawn with the bots; swayed in the back, and shouldershotten; ne'er-legged before, and with a half- To me she's married, not unto my clothes: checked bit, and a head-stall of sheep's leather: Could I repair what she will wear in me, which, being restrained to keep him from stum-As I can change these poor accoutrements, bling, hath been often burst, and now repaired with 'Twere well for Kate, and better for myself. knots: one girt six times pieced, and a woman's But what a fool am I, to chat with you, crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her When I should bid good-morrow to my bride, name, fairly set down in studs, and here and there And seal the title with a lovely kiss? pieced with packthread.

Bap. Who comes with him?

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;

[Exeunt Petruchio, Grumio, and Biondello. Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad attire:

Bion O, sir, his lackey, for all the world capa-We will persuade him, be it possible, risoned like the horse; with a linen stock on one To put on better ere he go to church. leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered with a red and blue list: an old hat, and The huBap. I'll after him, and see the event of this. mour of forty fancies pricked in't for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparel; and not like a Christian footboy, 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

comes.

Bion. Why, sir, he comes not.

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

Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came.

Her father's liking: Which to bring to pass,
Tra. But, sir, to her love concerneth us to add
[Exit.
I am to get a man,-whate'er he be,
As I before imparted to your worship,

It skills not much: we'll fit him to our turn,~~~
heAnd make assurance, here in Padua,
And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa;
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,

Bion. No, sir; I say, his horse comes with him 'Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage; on his back.

Bap. Why, that's all one.

Bion. 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 Grumio.

Which once perform'd, let all the world say-no,
I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world.

And watch our vantage in this business:
Tra. That by degrees we mean to look into,
We'll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio,
The narrow-prying father, Minola;
The quaint' musician, amorous Licio;

Pet. Come, where be these gallants? who is at All for my master's sake, Lucentio.

home?

Bap. You are welcome, sir.

Pet.

And yet I come not well.

Bap. And yet you halt not.
Tra.

As I wish you were.

Not so well apparell'd

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?

Re-enter Gremio.

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, in-
deed,

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.

Bap. Why, sir, you know, this is your wedding-I'll tell you, sir Lucentio; When the priest

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 junkets2 at the feast ;:-Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's place; And let Bianca take her sister's room.