SCENE II. Padua. Before HORTENSIO'S house

Zainab Irfan

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SCENE II. Padua. Before HORTENSIO'S house

Enter PETRUCHIO and his man GRUMIO

PETRUCHIO. 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.

GRUMIO. Knock, sir! Whom should I knock?

Is there any man has rebus'd your worship?

PETRUCHIO. Villain, I say, knock me here soundly.

GRUMIO. Knock you here, sir? Why, sir, what am I, sir, that I

should knock you here, sir?

PETRUCHIO. Villain, I say, knock me at this gate,

And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate.

GRUMIO. My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock you first,

And then I know after who comes by the worst.

PETRUCHIO. 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.

[He wrings him by the ears]

GRUMIO. Help, masters, help! My master is mad.

PETRUCHIO. Now knock when I bid you, sirrah villain!

Enter HORTENSIO

HORTENSIO. How now! what's the matter? My old friend Grumio and my

good friend Petruchio! How do you all at Verona?

PETRUCHIO. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray?

'Con tutto il cuore ben trovato' may I say.

HORTENSIO. Alla nostra casa ben venuto,

Molto honorato signor mio Petruchio.

Rise, Grumio, rise; we will compound this quarrel.

GRUMIO. 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 aught I

see, two and thirty, a pip out?

Whom would to God I had well knock'd at first,

Then had not Grumio come by the worst.

PETRUCHIO. A senseless villain! Good Hortensio,

I bade the rascal knock upon your gate,

And could not get him for my heart to do it.

GRUMIO. 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'?

PETRUCHIO. Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you.

HORTENSIO. Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio's pledge;

Why, this's 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?

PETRUCHIO. 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,

Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me:

Antonio, my father, is deceas'd,

And I have thrust myself into this maze,

Haply 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.

HORTENSIO. 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 th'art too much my friend,

And I'll not wish thee to her.

PETRUCHIO. Signior 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 burden of my wooing dance,

Be she as foul as was Florentius' love,

As old as Sibyl, and as curst and shrewd

As Socrates' Xanthippe or a worse-

She moves me not, or not removes, at least,

Affection's edge in me, were she as rough

As are the swelling Adriatic seas.

I come to wive it wealthily in Padua;

If wealthily, then happily in Padua.

GRUMIO. 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 has as many diseases as two and fifty horses. Why, nothing

comes amiss, so money comes withal.

HORTENSIO. Petruchio, since we are stepp'd 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, and that is faults enough,

Is- that she is intolerable curst,

And shrewd 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.

PETRUCHIO. 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.

HORTENSIO. Her father is Baptista Minola,

An affable and courteous gentleman;

Her name is Katherina Minola,

Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue.

PETRUCHIO. 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.

GRUMIO. I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour lasts. O' my

word, and 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; and he begin once, he'll

rail in his rope-tricks. 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.

HORTENSIO. 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 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 Katherina will be woo'd.

Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en,

That none shall have access unto Bianca

Till Katherine the curst have got a husband.

GRUMIO. Katherine the curst!

A title for a maid of all titles the worst.

HORTENSIO. 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 music, 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 herself.

Enter GREMIO with LUCENTIO disguised as CAMBIO

GRUMIO. Here's no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks, how the

young folks lay their heads together! Master, master, look about

you. Who goes there, ha?

HORTENSIO. Peace, Grumio! It is the rival of my love. Petruchio,

stand by awhile.

GRUMIO. A proper stripling, and an amorous!

[They stand aside]

GREMIO. O, very well; I have perus'd the note.

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. Take your paper too,

And let me have them very well perfum'd;

For she is sweeter than perfume itself

To whom they go to. What will you read to her?

LUCENTIO. 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.

GREMIO. O this learning, what a thing it is!

GRUMIO. O this woodcock, what an ass it is!

PETRUCHIO. Peace, sirrah!

HORTENSIO. Grumio, mum! [Coming forward]

God save you, Signior Gremio!

GREMIO. And you are well met, Signior Hortensio.

Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola.

I promis'd 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.

HORTENSIO. 'Tis well; and I have met a gentleman

Hath promis'd me to help me to another,

A fine musician to instruct our mistress;

So shall I no whit be behind in duty

To fair Bianca, so beloved of me.

GREMIO. Beloved of me- and that my deeds shall prove.

GRUMIO. And that his bags shall prove.

HORTENSIO. 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 Katherine;

Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please.

GREMIO. So said, so done, is well.

Hortensio, have you told him all her faults?

PETRUCHIO. I know she is an irksome brawling scold;

If that be all, masters, I hear no harm.

GREMIO. No, say'st me so, friend? What countryman?

PETRUCHIO. Born in Verona, old Antonio's son.

My father dead, my fortune lives for me;

And I do hope good days and long to see.

GREMIO. O Sir, such a life with such a wife were strange!

But if you have a stomach, to't a God's name;

You shall have me assisting you in all.

But will you woo this wild-cat?

PETRUCHIO. Will I live?

GRUMIO. Will he woo her? Ay, or I'll hang her.

PETRUCHIO. 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, puff'd up with winds,

Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat?

Have I not heard great ordnance 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' clang?

And do you tell me of a woman's tongue,

That gives not half so great a blow to hear

As will a chestnut in a fariner's fire?

Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs.

GRUMIO. For he fears none.

GREMIO. Hortensio, hark:

This gentleman is happily arriv'd,

My mind presumes, for his own good and ours.

HORTENSIO. I promis'd we would be contributors

And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe'er.

GREMIO. And so we will- provided that he win her.

GRUMIO. I would I were as sure of a good dinner.

Enter TRANIO, bravely apparelled as LUCENTIO, and BIONDELLO

TRANIO. 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?

BIONDELLO. He that has the two fair daughters; is't he you mean?

TRANIO. Even he, Biondello.

GREMIO. Hark you, sir, you mean not her to-

TRANIO. Perhaps him and her, sir; what have you to do?

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

TRANIO. I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, let's away.

LUCENTIO. [Aside] Well begun, Tranio.

HORTENSIO. Sir, a word ere you go.

Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no?

TRANIO. And if I be, sir, is it any offence?

GREMIO. No; if without more words you will get you hence.

TRANIO. Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free

For me as for you?

GREMIO. But so is not she.

TRANIO. For what reason, I beseech you?

GREMIO. For this reason, if you'll know,

That she's the choice love of Signior Gremio.

HORTENSIO. That she's the chosen of Signior Hortensio.

TRANIO. Softly, my masters! If you be gentlemen,

Do me this right- hear me with 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.

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

LUCENTIO. Sir, give him head; I know he'll prove a jade.

PETRUCHIO. Hortensio, to what end are all these words?

HORTENSIO. Sir, let me be so bold as ask you,

Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter?

TRANIO. No, sir, but hear I do that he hath two:

The one as famous for a scolding tongue

As is the other for beauteous modesty.

PETRUCHIO. Sir, sir, the first's for me; let her go by.

GREMIO. Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules,

And let it be more than Alcides' twelve.

PETRUCHIO. Sir, understand you this of me, in sooth:

The youngest daughter, whom you hearken for,

Her father keeps from all access of suitors,

And will not promise her to any man

Until the elder sister first be wed.

The younger then is free, and not before.

TRANIO. If it be so, sir, that you are the man

Must stead us all, and me amongst the rest;

And if you break the ice, and do this feat,

Achieve the elder, set the younger free

For our access- whose hap shall be to have her

Will not so graceless be to be ingrate.

HORTENSIO. 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.

TRANIO. Sir, I shall not be slack; in sign whereof,

Please ye we may contrive this afternoon,

And quaff carouses to our mistress' health;

And do as adversaries do in law-

Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.

GRUMIO, BIONDELLO. O excellent motion! Fellows, let's be gone.

HORTENSIO. The motion's good indeed, and be it so.

Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto. Exeunt

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ACT Il. SCENE I. Padua. BAPTISTA'S house

Enter KATHERINA and BIANCA

BIANCA. 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.

KATHERINA. Of all thy suitors here I charge thee tell

Whom thou lov'st best. See thou dissemble not.

BIANCA. Believe me, sister, of all the men alive

I never yet beheld that special face

Which I could fancy more than any other.

KATHERINA. Minion, thou liest. Is't not Hortensio?

BIANCA. If you affect him, sister, here I swear

I'll plead for you myself but you shall have him.

KATHERINA. O then, belike, you fancy riches more:

You will have Gremio to keep you fair.

BIANCA. 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 prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands.

KATHERINA. [Strikes her] If that be jest, then an the rest was so.

Enter BAPTISTA

BAPTISTA. Why, how now, dame! Whence grows this insolence?

Bianca, stand aside- poor girl! she weeps.

[He unbinds her]

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?

KATHERINA. Her silence flouts me, and I'll be reveng'd.

[Flies after BIANCA]

BAPTISTA. What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in.

Exit BIANCA

KATHERINA. 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.

Talk not to me; I will go sit and weep,

Till I can find occasion of revenge. Exit KATHERINA

BAPTISTA. Was ever gentleman thus griev'd as I?

But who comes here?

Enter GREMIO, with LUCENTIO in the habit of a mean man;

PETRUCHIO, with HORTENSIO as a musician; and TRANIO,

as LUCENTIO, with his boy, BIONDELLO, bearing a lute and books

GREMIO. Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.

BAPTISTA. Good morrow, neighbour Gremio.

God save you, gentlemen!

PETRUCHIO. And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter

Call'd Katherina, fair and virtuous?

BAPTISTA. I have a daughter, sir, call'd Katherina.

GREMIO. You are too blunt; go to it orderly.

PETRUCHIO. 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 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,

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-

His name is Licio, born in Mantua.

BAPTISTA. Y'are welcome, sir, and he for your good sake;

But for my daughter Katherine, this I know,

She is not for your turn, the more my grief.

PETRUCHIO. I see you do not mean to part with her;

Or else you like not of my company.

BAPTISTA. Mistake me not; I speak but as I find.

Whence are you, sir? What may I call your name?

PETRUCHIO. Petruchio is my name, Antonio's son,

A man well known throughout all Italy.

BAPTISTA. I know him well; you are welcome for his sake.

GREMIO. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,

Let us that are poor petitioners speak too.

Bacare! you are marvellous forward.

PETRUCHIO. O, pardon me, Signior Gremio! I would fain be doing.

GREMIO. I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your wooing.

Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am sure of it. To

express the like kindness, myself, that have been more kindly

beholding to you than any, freely give unto you this young

scholar [Presenting LUCENTIO] that hath been long studying at

Rheims; as cunning in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as the

other in music and mathematics. His name is Cambio. Pray accept

his service.

BAPTISTA. A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio. Welcome, good Cambio.

[To TRANIO] But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger.

May I be so bold to know the cause of your coming?

TRANIO. 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,

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.

BAPTISTA. Lucentio is your name? Of whence, I pray?

TRANIO. Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio.

BAPTISTA. A mighty man of Pisa. By report

I know him well. You are very welcome, sir.

Take you the lute, and you the set of books;

You shall go see your pupils presently.

Holla, within!

Enter a SERVANT

Sirrah, lead these gentlemen

To my daughters; and tell them both

These are their tutors. Bid them use them well.

Exit SERVANT leading HORTENSIO carrying the lute

and LUCENTIO with the books

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.

PETRUCHIO. Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,

And every day I cannot come to woo.

You knew my father well, and in him me,

Left solely heir to all his lands and goods,

Which I have bettered rather than decreas'd.

Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love,

What dowry shall I have with her to wife?

BAPTISTA. After my death, the one half of my lands

And, in possession, twenty thousand crowns.

PETRUCHIO. And for that dowry, I'll assure her of

Her widowhood, be it that she survive me,

In all my lands and leases whatsoever.

Let specialities be therefore drawn between us,

That covenants may be kept on either hand.

BAPTISTA. Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd,

That is, her love; for that is all in all.

PETRUCHIO. 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 extreme 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.

BAPTISTA. Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed

But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words.

PETRUCHIO. Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds,

That shake not though they blow perpetually.

Re-enter HORTENSIO, with his head broke

BAPTISTA. How now, my friend! Why dost thou look so pale?

HORTENSIO. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.

BAPTISTA. What, will my daughter prove a good musician?

HORTENSIO. I think she'll sooner prove a soldier:

Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.

BAPTISTA. Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute?

HORTENSIO. 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 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.

PETRUCHIO. 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!

BAPTISTA. 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?

PETRUCHIO. I pray you do. Exeunt all but PETRUCHIO

I'll attend her here,

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; :Lnd.now, Petruchio, speak.

Enter KATHERINA

Good morrow, Kate- for that's your name, I hear.

KATHERINA. Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:

They call me Katherine that do talk of me.

PETRUCHIO. 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 Kates, 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.

KATHERINA. 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.

PETRUCHIO. Why, what's a moveable?

KATHERINA. A join'd-stool.

PETRUCHIO. Thou hast hit it. Come, sit on me.

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

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

KATHERINA. No such jade as you, if me you mean.

PETRUCHIO. Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee!

For, knowing thee to be but young and light-

KATHERINA. Too light for such a swain as you to catch;

And yet as heavy as my weight should be.

PETRUCHIO. Should be! should- buzz!

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

PETRUCHIO. O, slow-wing'd turtle, shall a buzzard take thee?

KATHERINA. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.

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

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

PETRUCHIO. My remedy is then to pluck it out.

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

PETRUCHIO. Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting?

In his tail.

KATHERINA. In his tongue.

PETRUCHIO. Whose tongue?

KATHERINA. Yours, if you talk of tales; and so farewell.

PETRUCHIO. What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again,

Good Kate; I am a gentleman.

KATHERINA. That I'll try. [She strikes him]

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

KATHERINA. So may you lose your arms.

If you strike me, you are no gentleman;

And if no gentleman, why then no arms.

PETRUCHIO. A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books!

KATHERINA. What is your crest- a coxcomb?

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

KATHERINA. No cock of mine: you crow too like a craven.

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

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

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

KATHERINA. There is, there is.

PETRUCHIO. Then show it me.

KATHERINA. Had I a glass I would.

PETRUCHIO. What, you mean my face?

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

PETRUCHIO. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.

KATHERINA. Yet you are wither'd.

PETRUCHIO. 'Tis with cares.

KATHERINA. I care not.

PETRUCHIO. Nay, hear you, Kate- in sooth, you scape not so.

KATHERINA. I chafe you, if I tarry; let me go.

PETRUCHIO. 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 springtime 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 sland'rous 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.

KATHERINA. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command.

PETRUCHIO. 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!

KATHERINA. Where did you study all this goodly speech?

PETRUCHIO. It is extempore, from my mother wit.

KATHERINA. A witty mother! witless else her son.

PETRUCHIO. Am I not wise?

KATHERINA. Yes, keep you warm.

PETRUCHIO. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katherine, 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 Kate to a Kate

Conformable as other household Kates.

Re-enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and TRANIO

Here comes your father. Never make denial;

I must and will have Katherine to my wife.

BAPTISTA. Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?

PETRUCHIO. How but well, sir? how but well?

It were impossible I should speed amiss.

BAPTISTA. Why, how now, daughter Katherine, in your dumps?

KATHERINA. 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.

PETRUCHIO. 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.

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

GREMIO. Hark, Petruchio; she says she'll see thee hang'd first.

TRANIO. Is this your speeding? Nay, then good-night our part!

PETRUCHIO. 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 Katherine shall be fine.

BAPTISTA. I know not what to say; but give me your hands.

God send you joy, Petruchio! 'Tis a match.

GREMIO, TRANIO. Amen, say we; we will be witnesses.

PETRUCHIO. 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 a Sunday.

Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHERINA severally

GREMIO. Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly?

BAPTISTA. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part,

And venture madly on a desperate mart.

TRANIO. 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you;

'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.

BAPTISTA. The gain I seek is quiet in the match.

GREMIO. 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.

TRANIO. And I am one that love Bianca more

Than words can witness or your thoughts can guess.

GREMIO. Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I.

TRANIO. Greybeard, thy love doth freeze.

GREMIO. But thine doth fry.

Skipper, stand back; 'tis age that nourisheth.

TRANIO. But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth.

BAPTISTA. 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 my Bianca's love.

Say, Signior Gremio, what can you assure her?

GREMIO. First, as you know, my house within the city

Is richly furnished with plate and gold,

Basins 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 belongs

To house or housekeeping. Then at my farm

I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,

Six score 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.

TRANIO. 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's 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?

GREMIO. Two thousand ducats by the year of land!

[Aside] 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?

TRANIO. Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less

Than three great argosies, besides two galliasses,

And twelve tight galleys. These I will assure her,

And twice as much whate'er thou off'rest next.

GREMIO. Nay, I have off'red 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.

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

By your firm promise; Gremio is out-vied.

BAPTISTA. 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?

TRANIO. That's but a cavil; he is old, I young.

GREMIO. And may not young men die as well as old?

BAPTISTA. Well, gentlemen,

I am thus resolv'd: on Sunday next you know

My daughter Katherine 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.

GREMIO. 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!

An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. Exit

TRANIO. A vengeance on your crafty withered 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

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

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ACT III. SCENE I. Padua. BAPTISTA'S house

Enter LUCENTIO as CAMBIO, HORTENSIO as LICIO, and BIANCA

LUCENTIO. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir.

Have you so soon forgot the entertainment

Her sister Katherine welcome'd you withal?

HORTENSIO. 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.

LUCENTIO. Preposterous ass, that never read so far

To know the cause why music was ordain'd!

Was it not to refresh the mind of man

After his studies or his usual pain?

Then give me leave to read philosophy,

And while I pause serve in your harmony.

HORTENSIO. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.

BIANCA. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong

To strive for that which resteth in my choice.

I arn no breeching scholar in the schools,

I'll not be tied 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.

HORTENSIO. You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune?

LUCENTIO. That will be never- tune your instrument.

BIANCA. Where left we last?

LUCENTIO. Here, madam:

'Hic ibat Simois, hic est Sigeia tellus,

Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.'

BIANCA. Construe them.

LUCENTIO. 'Hic ibat' as I told you before- 'Simois' I am Lucentio-

'hic est' son unto Vincentio of Pisa- 'Sigeia tellus' disguised

thus to get your love- 'Hic steterat' and that Lucentio that

comes a-wooing- 'Priami' is my man Tranio- 'regia' bearing my

port- 'celsa senis' that we might beguile the old pantaloon.

HORTENSIO. Madam, my instrument's in tune.

BIANCA. Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars.

LUCENTIO. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.

BIANCA. Now let me see if I can construe it: 'Hic ibat Simois' I

know you not- 'hic est Sigeia tellus' I trust you not- 'Hic

steterat Priami' take heed he hear us not- 'regia' presume not-

'celsa senis' despair not.

HORTENSIO. Madam, 'tis now in tune.

LUCENTIO. All but the bass.

HORTENSIO. The bass is right; 'tis the base knave that jars.

[Aside] How fiery and forward our pedant is!

Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love.

Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet.

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

LUCENTIO. Mistrust it not- for sure, AEacides

Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather.

BIANCA. I must believe my master; else, I promise you,

I should be arguing still upon that doubt;

But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you.

Good master, take it not unkindly, pray,

That I have been thus pleasant with you both.

HORTENSIO. [To LUCENTIO] You may go walk and give me leave

awhile;

My lessons make no music in three Parts.

LUCENTIO. Are you so formal, sir? Well, I must wait,

[Aside] And watch withal; for, but I be deceiv'd,

Our fine musician groweth amorous.

HORTENSIO. 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.

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

HORTENSIO. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.

BIANCA. [Reads]

'"Gamut" I am, the ground of all accord-

"A re" to plead Hortensio's passion-

"B mi" Bianca, take him for thy lord-

"C fa ut" that loves with all affection-

"D sol re" one clef, two notes have I-

"E la mi" show 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 true rules for odd inventions.

Enter a SERVANT

SERVANT. 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.

BIANCA. Farewell, sweet masters, both; I must be gone.

Exeunt BIANCA and SERVANT

LUCENTIO. Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay.

Exit

HORTENSIO. 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

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

SCENE II. Padua. Before BAPTISTA'So house

Enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, TRANIO as LUCENTIO, KATHERINA, BIANCA,

LUCENTIO as CAMBIO, and ATTENDANTS

BAPTISTA. [To TRANIO] Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed day

That Katherine and Petruchio should be married,

And yet we hear not of our son-in-law.

What will be said? What mockery will it be

To want the bridegroom when the priest attends

To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage!

What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?

KATHERINA. 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 frantic 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 invited, and proclaim the banns;

Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.

Now must the world point at poor Katherine,

And say 'Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife,

If it would please him come and marry her!'

TRANIO. Patience, good Katherine, 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;

Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.

KATHERINA. Would Katherine had never seen him though!

Exit, weeping, followed by BIANCA and others

BAPTISTA. Go, girl, I cannot blame thee now to weep,

For such an injury would vex a very saint;

Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.

Enter BIONDELLO

Master, master! News, and such old news as you never heard of!

BAPTISTA. Is it new and old too? How may that be?

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

BAPTISTA. Is he come?

BIONDELLO. Why, no, sir.

BAPTISTA. What then?

BIONDELLO. He is coming.

BAPTISTA. When will he be here?

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

TRANIO. But, say, what to thine old news?

BIONDELLO. Why, Petruchio is coming- in a new hat and an old

jerkin; a pair of old breeches thrice turn'd; a pair of boots

that have been candle-cases, one buckled, another lac'd; an old

rusty sword ta'en out of the town armoury, with a broken hilt,

and chapeless; with two broken points; his horse hipp'd, with an

old motley saddle and stirrups of no kindred; besides, possess'd

with the glanders and like to mose in the chine, troubled with

the lampass, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls, sped

with spavins, rayed with the yellows, past cure of the fives,

stark spoil'd with the staggers, begnawn with the bots, sway'd in

the back and shoulder-shotten, near-legg'd before, and with a

half-cheek'd bit, and a head-stall of sheep's leather which,

being restrained 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.

BAPTISTA. Who comes with him?

BIONDELLO. O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparison'd like

the horse- with a linen stock on one leg and a kersey boot-hose

on the other, gart'red 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

footboy or a gentleman's lackey.

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

Yet oftentimes lie goes but mean-apparell'd.

BAPTISTA. I am glad he's come, howsoe'er he comes.

BIONDELLO. Why, sir, he comes not.

BAPTISTA. Didst thou not say he comes?

BIONDELLO. Who? that Petruchio came?

BAPTISTA. Ay, that Petruchio came.

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

BAPTISTA. Why, that's all one.

BIONDELLO. 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

PETRUCHIO. Come, where be these gallants? Who's at home?

BAPTISTA. You are welcome, sir.

PETRUCHIO. And yet I come not well.

BAPTISTA. And yet you halt not.

TRANIO. Not so well apparell'd

As I wish you were.

PETRUCHIO. 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?

BAPTISTA. 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!

TRANIO. And tell us what occasion of import

Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife,

And sent you hither so unlike yourself?

PETRUCHIO. 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.

TRANIO. See not your bride in these unreverent robes;

Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine.

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

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

PETRUCHIO. Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha' 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,

'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 PETRUCHIO and PETRUCHIO

TRANIO. He hath some meaning in his mad attire.

We will persuade him, be it possible,

To put on better ere he go to church.

BAPTISTA. I'll after him and see the event of this.

Exeunt BAPTISTA, GREMIO, BIONDELLO, and ATTENDENTS

TRANIO. But to her love concerneth us to ad

Her father's liking; which to bring to pass,

As I before imparted to your worship,

I am to get a man- whate'er he be

It skills not much; we'll fit him to our turn-

And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa,

And make assurance here in Padua

Of greater sums than I have promised.

So shall you quietly enjoy your hope

And marry sweet Bianca with consent.

LUCENTIO. 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.

TRANIO. 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

Signior Gremio, came you from the church?

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

TRANIO. And is the bride and bridegroom coming home?

GREMIO. A bridegroom, say you? 'Tis a groom indeed,

A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find.

TRANIO. Curster than she? Why, 'tis impossible.

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

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

GREMIO. Tut, she's a lamb, a dove, a fool, to him!

I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest

Should ask if Katherine 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.'

TRANIO. What said the wench, when he rose again?

GREMIO. 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 abroad, 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.

And 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. [Music plays]

Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, BIANCA, BAPTISTA, HORTENSIO,

GRUMIO, and train

PETRUCHIO. 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.

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

PETRUCHIO. 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 farewell to you all.

TRANIO. Let us entreat you stay till after dinner.

PETRUCHIO. It may not be.

GREMIO. Let me entreat you.

PETRUCHIO. It cannot be.

KATHERINA. Let me entreat you.

PETRUCHIO. I am content.

KATHERINA. Are you content to stay?

PETRUCHIO. I am content you shall entreat me stay;

But yet not stay, entreat me how you can.

KATHERINA. Now, if you love me, stay.

PETRUCHIO. Grumio, my horse.

GRUMIO. Ay, sir, they be ready; the oats have eaten the horses.

KATHERINA. Nay, then,

Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day;

No, nor to-morrow, not till I please myself.

The door is open, sir; there lies your way;

You may be jogging whiles your boots are green;

For me, I'll not be gone till I please myself.

'Tis like you'll prove a jolly surly groom

That take it on you at the first so roundly.

PETRUCHIO. O Kate, content thee; prithee be not angry.

KATHERINA. I will be angry; what hast thou to do?

Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure.

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

KATHERINA. Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner.

I see a woman may be made a fool

If she had not a spirit to resist.

PETRUCHIO. They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command.

Obey the bride, you that attend on her;

Go to the feast, revel and domineer,

Carouse full measure to her maidenhead;

Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves.

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 household stuff, my field, my barn,

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 are beset with thieves;

Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man.

Fear not, sweet wench; they shall not touch thee, Kate;

I'll buckler thee against a million.

Exeunt PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, and GRUMIO

BAPTISTA. Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones.

GREMIO. Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing.

TRANIO. Of all mad matches, never was the like.

LUCENTIO. Mistress, what's your opinion of your sister?

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

GREMIO. I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated.

BAPTISTA. 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 shall supply the bridegroom's place;

And let Bianca take her sister's room.

TRANIO. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it?

BAPTISTA. She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, let's go.

Exeunt