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SCENE I.

ACT THE SECOND.

The same. A room in Baptista's house.

Enter KATHARINA and BIANCA.

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.
Kath. Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee,
tell

Whom thou lov'st best: see thou dissemble not.
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, I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have him. Kath. O then, belike, you fancy riches more; You will have Gremio to keep you fair.

Bian. Is it for him you do envy me so? Nay, then you jest; and now I well perceive, You have but jested with me all this while : I pr'ythee, sister Kate, untie my hands. Kath. If that be jest, then all the rest was so. [Strikes her.

Enter BAPTISTA.

Bap. Why, how now, dame! whence grows this insolence?

Bianca, stand aside;-poor girl! she weeps:Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her.For shanie, 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 reveng'd. [Flies after Bianca. Bap. What, in my sight?-Bianca, get thee in. [Exit Bianca. Kath. 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 sit and weep, Till I can find occasion of revenge.

go

[Exit Katharina. Bap. 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, with BIONDELLO bearing a lute and books.

Gre. Good-morrow, neighbour Baptista.

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, call'd Katharina.
Gre. You are too blunt, go to it orderly.
Pet. You wrong mc, 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 wonderous qualities, and mild behaviour,-
Am bold to show myself a forward guest
Within your house, to make mine eye the wit-

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Of that report, which I so oft have heard.
And, for an entrance to my entertainment,
I do present you with a man of mine,

[Presenting Hortensio.
Cunning in musick, and the mathematicks,
To instruct her fully in those sciences,
Whereof, I know, she is not ignorant:
Accept of him, or else you do me wrong;
His name is Licio, born in Mantua.

Bap. You're welcome, sir; and he, for your good sake:

But for my daughter Katharina,-this I know,
She is not for your turn, the more my grief.
Pet. I sce, you do not mean to part with her;
Or else
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?

you

Pet. Petruchio is my name; Antonio's son, A man well known throughout all Italy. Bap. I know him well: you are welcome for his sake.

Gre. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray, Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too : Baccare! you are marvellous forward.

Pet. O, pardon me, signior Gremio; I would fain be doing.

Gre. 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 beholden to you than any, I 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 musick and mathematicks: his name is Cambio; pray, accept his service.

welcome, good Cambio.-But, gentle sir, [To Bap. A thousand thanks, signior Gremio: Tranio.] methinks, you walk like a stranger; May I be so bold to know the cause of your coming?

Tra. Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine | But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words.

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.
Bap. Lucentio is your name? of whence, I
pray?

Tra. Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio.
Bap. A mighty man of Pisa; by report
I know him well: you are very welcome, sir.
Take you [To Hor.] the lute, and you [To Luc.]
the set of books,

You shall go see your pupils presently.
Holla, within!

Sirrah, lead

Enter a Servant.

These gentlemen to my daughters; and tell them both,

These are their tutors; bid them use them well. [Exit Servant, with Hortensio, Lucentio, and Biondello.

We will go walk a little in the orchard,
And then to dinner: You are passing welcome,

And so I pray you all to think yourselves.

Pet. Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,

And every day I cannot come to woo.
You knew my father well; and in him, me,
Left solely heir to all his lands and goods,
Which I have better'd rather than decreas'd:
Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love,
What dowry shall I have with her to wife?
Bup. After my death, the one half of my lands:
And, in possession, twenty thousand crowns.

Pet. Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds,

That shake not, though they blow perpetually.

Re-enter HORTENSIO, with his head broken.

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?

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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:
us,Say, she be mute, and will not speak a word;
Then I'll commend her volubility,

Pet. 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 specialties be therefore drawn between That covenants may be kept on either hand. Bup. Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd,

This is, her love; for that is all in all.
Pet. Why, that is nothing; for I tell you, fa-
ther,

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.

Bap. Well may'st thou woo, and happy be thy speed!

And say she uttereth piercing eloquence:
If she doth 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 mar-
ried:-

But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak.
Enter KATHARINA.
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 inc.

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 supper-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.

Pet.

Why, what's a moveable?

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

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Pet. What, with my tongue in come again,

Good Kate; I am a gentleman. Kath.

your tail? nay,

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.

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.

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'Tis with cares. I care not.

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 hazel nuts, and sweeter than the kernels.
O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt.
Kath. Go, fool, aud whom thou keep'st com
mand.

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?

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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 houshold 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?

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you,

You have show'd a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one half lunatick;
A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Jack,
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.
Pet. Father, 'tis thus,-yourself and all the
world,

That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her;
If she be curst, it is for policy:

For she's not froward, but modest as the dove;
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;
For patience she will prove a second 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!

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 Katc!-
She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss
She vied so fast, protesting oath on oatli,
That in a twink she won me to her love.
O, you are novices! 'tis a world to sec,
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 hid 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 scas.

Bap. The gain I seck 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 you know, my house within the city

Is richly furnished with plate and gold;
Basons, and ewers, to lave her dainty hands;
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry:

In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns;
In cypress chests my arras, counterpoints,
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
Fine linen, Turky 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 one
Old signior Gremio has in Padua ;
Besides two thousand ducats by the
Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure.-
What, have I pinch'd you, signior Gremio?

year,

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. I must confess, your offer is the best; And, let your father make her the assurance, She is your own; else, you must pardon me: If you should die before him, where's her dower?

Tra. That's but a cavil; he is old, I young. Gre. And may not young men dic, as well as old?

Bap. Well, gentlemen,

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Set foot under thy table: Tut! a toy!
An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. [Exit.
Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide!
Yet I have 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.

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

A room in Baptista's house.

Enter LUCENTIO, HORTENSIO, and BIANCA. Luc. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir:

Ilave
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 musick 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 musick was ordain'd!
Was it not, to refresh the mind of man,
After his studies, or his usual pain?
Then give me leave to read philosophy,
And, while I pause, serve in your harmony.
Hor. Sirral, I will not bear these braves of
thine.

Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double
wrong,

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To strive for that, which resteth in my choice:
I am 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, liere sit we down:-
Take you your instrument, play you the whiles;
His lecture will be done, ere you have tun'd.
Hor. You'll leave his lecture, when I am in
tune? [To Bianca.-Hortensio retires.
Luc. That will be never;-tune your instru-

ment.

Bian. Where left we last?
Luc. Here, madam:-
Hac ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus ;
Hic steterut Priami regia celsa senis.
Bian. Construe them.

Luc. Hac ibut, 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 steterut, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing, Priami, is my man Tranio,regia, bearing my port,-celsa senis, that we might beguile the old pautalcou.

Hor. Madam, my instrument's in tune.

Bian. Let's hear;

O fye! the treble jars.

[Returning. [Hortensio plays.

Luc. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. Bian. Now let me see if I can construe it : Hac 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.

Hor. Madam, 'tis now in tune.
Luc.

All but the base. Hor. The base is right; 'tis the base knave, that jars.

How fiery and forward our pedant is!
Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love :.
Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet.

Bian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.
Luc. Mistrust it not; for, sure,

acides. Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather. Bian. I must believe my master; else, I pro

I

mise you,

should be arguing still upon that doubt: But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you :Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray, That I have been thus pleasant with you both. Hor. You may go walk, [To Lucentio.] and give me leave awhile;

My lessons make no musick in three parts.
Luc. Are you so formal, sir? well, I must
wait,

And watch withal; for, but I be deceiv'd,
Our fine musician groweth amorous.

[Aside.

trade:

Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument,
To learn the order of my fingering,
I must begin with rudiments of art;
To teach you gamut in a briefer sort,
More pleasant, pithy, and effectual,
Than hath been taught by any of my
And there it is in writing, fairly drawn.
Bian. Why, I am past my gamut long ago.
Hor. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.
Bian. [Reads.] Gamut Lam, the ground of all
accord,

A re, to plead Hortensio's passion;
B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord,
C faut, that loves with all affection:

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