The Taming of the Shrew (Folio 1, 1623)

¶

Enter Begger and Hostes, Christophero Sly.

¶

Begger.

¶ILe pheeze you infaith.

5Host. A paire of stockes you rogue.

¶Beg. Y'are a baggage, the Slies are no

¶Rogues. Looke in the Chronicles, we came

¶in with Richard Conqueror: therefore Pau-

¶cas pallabris, let the world slide: Sessa.

10Host. You will not pay for the glasses you haue burst?

¶Beg. No, not a deniere: go by S. Ieronimie, goe to thy

¶cold bed, and warme thee.

¶Host. I know my remedie, I must go fetch the Head-

¶borough.

15Beg. Third, or fourth, or fift Borough, Ile answere

¶him by Law. Ile not budge an inch boy: Let him come,

¶and kindly.

Falles asleepe.

¶Winde hornes. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his traine.

¶Lo. Huntsman I charge thee, tender wel my hounds,

20Brach Meriman, the poore Curre is imbost,

¶And couple Clowder with the deepe-mouth'd brach,

¶Saw'st thou not boy how Siluer made it good

¶At the hedge corner, in the couldest fault,

¶I would not loose the dogge for twentie pound.

25Hunts. Why Belman is as good as he my Lord,

¶He cried vpon it at the meerest losse,

¶And twice to day pick'd out the dullest sent,

¶Trust me, I take him for the better dogge.

¶Lord. Thou art a Foole, if Eccho were as fleete,

30I would esteeme him worth a dozen such:

¶But sup them well, and looke vnto them all,

¶To morrow I intend to hunt againe.

¶Hunts. I will my Lord.

¶Lord. What's heere? One dead, or drunke? See doth

35he breath?

¶2.Hun. He breath's my Lord. Were he not warm'd

¶with Ale, this were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.

¶Lord. Oh monstrous beast, how like a swine he lyes.

¶Grim death, how foule and loathsome is thine image:

40Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.

¶What thinke you, if he were conuey'd to bed,

¶Wrap'd in sweet cloathes: Rings put vpon his fingers:

¶A most delicious banquet by his bed,

¶And braue attendants neere him when he wakes,

45Would not the begger then forget himselfe?

¶1.Hun. Beleeue me Lord, I thinke he cannot choose.

¶2.H.It would seem strange vnto him when he wak'd

¶Lord. Euen as a flatt'ring dreame, or worthles fancie.

¶Then take him vp, and manage well the iest:

50Carrie him gently to my fairest Chamber,

¶And hang it round with all my vvanton pictures:

¶Balme his foule head in warme distilled waters,

¶And burne sweet Wood to make the Lodging sweete:

¶Procure me Musicke readie when he vvakes,

55To make a dulcet and a heauenly sound:

¶And if he chance to speake, be readie straight

¶(And with a lowe submissiue reuerence)

¶Say, what is it your Honor vvil command:

¶Let one attend him vvith a siluer Bason

60Full of Rose-water, and bestrew'd with Flowers,

¶Another beare the Ewer: the third a Diaper,

¶And say wilt please your Lordship coole your hands.

¶Some one be readie with a costly suite,

¶And aske him what apparrel he will weare:

65Another tell him of his Hounds and Horse,

¶And that his Ladie mournes at his disease,

¶Perswade him that he hath bin Lunaticke,

¶And when he sayes he is, say that he dreames,

¶For he is nothing but a mightie Lord:

70This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs,

¶It wil be pastime passing excellent,

¶If it be husbanded with modestie.

¶1.Hunts. My Lord I warrant you we wil play our part

¶As he shall thinke by our true diligence

75He is no lesse then what we say he is.

¶Lord. Take him vp gently, and to bed with him,

¶And each one to his office when he wakes.

¶

Sound trumpets.

¶Sirrah, go see what Trumpet 'tis that sounds,

80Belike some Noble Gentleman that meanes

¶(Trauelling some iourney) to repose him heere.

¶

Enter Seruingman.

¶How now? who is it?

¶Ser. An't please your Honor, Players

85That offer seruice to your Lordship.

¶

Enter Players.

¶Lord. Bid them come neere:

¶Now fellowes, you are welcome.

¶Players. We thanke your Honor.

90Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to night?

¶2.Player. So please your Lordshippe to accept our

¶dutie.

¶Lord. With all my heart. This fellow I remember,

¶Since once he plaide a Farmers eldest sonne,

95'Twas where you woo'd the Gentlewoman so well:

¶I haue forgot your name: but sure that part

¶Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd.

¶Sincklo. I thinke 'twas Soto that your honor meanes.

¶Lord. 'Tis verie true, thou didst it excellent:

100Well you are come to me in happie time,

¶The rather for I haue some sport in hand,

¶Wherein your cunning can assist me much.

¶There is a Lord will heare you play to night;

¶But I am doubtfull of your modesties,

105Least (ouer-eying of his odde behauiour,

¶For yet his honor neuer heard a play)

¶You breake into some merrie passion,

¶And so offend him: for I tell you sirs,

¶If you should smile, he growes impatient.

110Plai. Feare not my Lord, we can contain our selues,

¶Were he the veriest anticke in the world.

¶Lord. Go sirra, take them to the Butterie,

¶And giue them friendly welcome euerie one,

¶Let them want nothing that my house affoords.

115

Exit one with the Players.

¶Sirra go you to Bartholmew my Page,

¶And see him drest in all suites like a Ladie:

¶That done, conduct him to the drunkards chamber,

¶And call him Madam, do him obeisance:

120Tell him from me (as he will win my loue)

¶He beare himselfe with honourable action,

¶Such as he hath obseru'd in noble Ladies

¶Vnto their Lords, by them accomplished,

¶Such dutie to the drunkard let him do:

125With soft lowe tongue, and lowly curtesie,

¶And say: What is't your Honor will command,

¶Wherein your Ladie, and your humble wife,

¶May shew her dutie, and make knowne her loue.

¶And then with kinde embracements, tempting kisses,

130And with declining head into his bosome

¶Bid him shed teares, as being ouer-ioyed

¶To see her noble Lord restor'd to health,

¶Who for this seuen yeares hath esteemed him

¶No better then a poore and loathsome begger:

135And if the boy haue not a womans guift

¶To raine a shower of commanded teares,

¶An Onion wil do well for such a shift,

¶Which in a Napkin (being close conuei'd)

¶Shall in despight enforce a waterie eie:

140See this dispatch'd with all the hast thou canst,

¶Anon Ile giue thee more instructions.

¶

Exit a seruingman.

¶I know the boy will wel vsurpe the grace,

¶Voice, gate, and action of a Gentlewoman:

145I long to heare him call the drunkard husband,

¶And how my men will stay themselues from laughter,

¶When they do homage to this simple peasant,

¶Ile in to counsell them: haply my presence

¶May well abate the ouer-merrie spleene,

150Which otherwise would grow into extreames.

¶

Enter aloft the drunkard with attendants, some with apparel,

¶

Bason and Ewer,& other appurtenances,& Lord.

¶Beg. For Gods sake a pot of small Ale.

¶1.Ser. Wilt please your Lord drink a cup of sacke?

1552.Ser. Wilt please your Honor taste of these Con-

¶serues?

¶3.Ser. What raiment wil your honor weare to day.

¶Beg. I am Christophero Sly, call not mee Honour nor

¶Lordship: I ne're drank sacke in my life: and if you giue

160me any Conserues, giue me conserues of Beefe: nere ask

¶me what raiment Ile weare, for I haue no more doub-

¶lets then backes: no more stockings then legges: nor

¶no more shooes then feet, nay sometime more feete then

¶shooes, or such shooes as my toes looke through the o-

165uer-leather.

¶Lord. Heauen cease this idle humor in your Honor.

¶Oh that a mightie man of such discent,

¶Of such possessions, and so high esteeme

¶Should be infused with so foule a spirit.

170Beg. What would you make me mad? Am not I Chri-

¶stopher Slie, old Sies sonne of Burton-heath, by byrth a

¶Pedler, by education a Cardmaker, by transmutation a

¶Beare-heard, and now by present profession a Tinker.

¶Aske Marrian Hacket the fat Alewife of Wincot, if shee

175know me not: if she say I am not xiiii.d. on the score for

¶sheere Ale, score me vp for the lyingst knaue in Christen

¶dome. What I am not bestraught: here's---

¶3.Man. Oh this it is that makes your Ladie mourne.

¶2. Mar. Oh this is it that makes your seruants droop.

180Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred shuns your

(house

¶As beaten hence by your strange Lunacie.

¶Oh Noble Lord, bethinke thee of thy birth,

¶Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,

¶And banish hence these abiect lowlie dreames:

185Looke how thy seruants do attend on thee,

¶Each in his office readie at thy becke.

¶Wilt thou haue Musicke? Harke Apollo plaies, Musick

¶And twentie caged Nightingales do sing.

¶Or wilt thou sleepe? Wee'l haue thee to a Couch,

190Softer and sweeter then the lustfull bed

¶On purpose trim'd vp for Semiramis.

¶Say thou wilt walke: we wil bestrow the ground.

¶Or wilt thou ride? Thy horses shal be trap'd,

¶Their harnesse studded all with Gold and Pearle.

195Dost thou loue hawking? Thou hast hawkes will soare

¶Aboue the morning Larke. Or wilt thou hunt,

¶Thy hounds shall make the Welkin answer them

¶And fetch shrill ecchoes from the hollow earth.

¶1.Man.Say thou wilt course, thy gray-hounds are as

(swift

200As breathed Stags: I fleeter then the Roe.

¶2.M. Dost thou loue pictures? we wil fetch thee strait

¶Adonis painted by a running brooke,

¶And Citherea all in sedges hid,

¶Which seeme to moue and wanton with her breath,

205Euen as the wauing sedges play with winde.

¶Lord. Wee'l shew thee Io, as she was a Maid,

¶And how she was beguiled and surpriz'd,

¶As liuelie painted, as the deede was done.

¶3.Man. Or Daphne roming through a thornie wood,

210Scratching her legs, that one shal sweare she bleeds,

¶And at that sight shal sad Apollo weepe,

¶So workmanlie the blood and teares are drawne.

¶Lord. Thou art a Lord, and nothing but a Lord:

¶Thou hast a Ladie farre more Beautifull,

215Then any woman in this waining age.

¶1 Man. And til the teares that she hath shed for thee,

¶Like enuious flouds ore-run her louely face,

¶She was the fairest creature in the world,

¶And yet shee is inferiour to none.

220Beg. Am I a Lord, and haue I such a Ladie?

¶Or do I dreame? Or haue I dream'd till now?

¶I do not sleepe: I see, I heare, I speake:

¶I smel sweet sauours, and I feele soft things:

¶Vpon my life I am a Lord indeede,

225And not a Tinker, nor Christopher Slie.

¶Well, bring our Ladie hither to our sight,

¶And once againe a pot o'th smallest Ale.

¶2.Man. Wilt please your mightinesse to wash your

¶ hands:

230Oh how we ioy to see your wit restor'd,

¶Oh that once more you knew but what you are:

¶These fifteene yeeres you haue bin in a dreame,

¶Or when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept.

¶Beg. These fifteene yeeres, by my fay, a goodly nap,

235But did I neuer speake of all that time.

¶1.Man. Oh yes my Lord, but verie idle words,

¶For though you lay heere in this goodlie chamber,

¶Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of doore,

¶And raile vpon the Hostesse of the house,

240And say you would present her at the Leete,

¶Because she brought stone-Iugs, and no seal'd quarts:

¶Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.

¶Beg. I, the womans maide of the house.

¶3.man.Why sir you know no house, nor no such maid

245Nor no such men as you haue reckon'd vp,

¶As Stephen Slie, and old Iohn Naps of Greece,

¶And Peter Turph, and Henry Pimpernell,

¶And twentie more such names and men as these,

¶Which neuer were, nor no man euer saw.

250Beg. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends.

¶All. Amen.

¶

Enter Lady with Attendants.

¶Beg. I thanke thee, thou shalt not loose by it.

¶Lady. How fares my noble Lord?

255Beg. Marrie I fare well, for heere is cheere enough.

¶Where is my wife?

¶La. Heere noble Lord, what is thy will with her?

¶Beg. Are you my wife, and will not cal me husband?

¶My men should call me Lord, I am your good-man.

260La.My husband and my Lord, my Lord and husband

¶I am your wife in all obedience.

¶Beg. I know it well, what must I call her?

¶Lord. Madam.

¶Beg. Alce Madam, or Ione Madam?

265Lord. Madam, and nothing else, so Lords cal Ladies

¶Beg. Madame wife, they say that I haue dream'd,

¶And slept aboue some fifteene yeare or more.

¶Lady. I, and the time seeme's thirty vnto me,

¶Being all this time abandon'd from your bed.

270Beg. 'Tis much, seruants leaue me and her alone:

¶Madam vndresse you, and come now to bed.

¶La. Thrice noble Lord, let me intreat of you

¶To pardon me yet for a night or two:

¶Or if not so, vntill the Sun be set.

275For your Physitians haue expressely charg'd,

¶In perill to incurre your former malady,

¶That I should yet absent me from your bed:

¶I hope this reason stands for my excuse.

¶Beg. I, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long:

280But I would be loth to fall into my dreames againe: I

¶wil therefore tarrie in despight of the flesh & the blood

¶

Enter a Messenger.

¶Mes.Your Honors Players hearing your amendment,

¶Are come to play a pleasant Comedie,

285For so your doctors hold it very mcete,

¶Seeing too much sadnesse hath congeal'd your blood,

¶And melancholly is the Nurse of frenzie,

¶Therefore they thought it good you heare a play,

¶And frame your minde to mirth and merriment,

290Which barres a thousand harmes, and lengthens life.

¶Beg. Marrie I will let them play, it is not a Comon-

¶tie, a Christmas gambold, or a tumbling tricke?

¶Lady. No my good Lord, it is more pleasing stuffe.

¶Beg. What, houshold stuffe.

295Lady. It is a kinde of history.

¶Beg. Well, we'l see't:

¶Come Madam wife sit by my side,

¶And let the world slip, we shall nere be yonger.

300Luc. Tranio, since for the great desire I had

¶To see faire Padua, nurserie of Arts,

¶I am arriu'd for fruitfull Lumbardie,

¶The pleasant garden of great Italy,

¶And by my fathers loue and leaue am arm'd

305With his good will, and thy good companie.

¶My trustie seruant well approu'd in all,

¶Heere let vs breath, and haply institute

¶A course of Learning, and ingenious studies.

¶Pisa renowned for graue Citizens

310Gaue me my being, and my father first

¶A Merchant of great Trafficke through the world:

¶Vincentio's come of the Bentiuolij,

¶Vincentio's sonne, brough vp in Florence,

¶It shall become to serue all hopes conceiu'd

315To decke his fortune with his vertuous deedes:

¶And therefore Tranio, for the time I studie,

¶Vertue and that part of Philosophie

¶Will I applie, that treats of happinesse,

¶By vertue specially to be atchieu'd.

320Tell me thy minde, for I haue Pisa left,

¶And am to Padua come, as he that leaues

¶A shallow plash, to plunge him in the deepe,

¶And with sacietie seekes to quench his thirst.

¶Tra. Me Pardonato, gentle master mine:

325I am in all affected as your selfe,

¶Glad that you thus continue your resolue,

¶To sucke the sweets of sweete Philosophie.

¶Onely (good master) while we do admire

¶This vertue, and this morall discipline,

330Let's be no Stoickes, nor no stockes I pray,

¶Or so deuote to Aristotles checkes

¶As Ouid; be an out-cast quite abiur'd:

¶Balke Lodgicke with acquaintance that you haue,

¶And practise Rhetoricke in your common talke,

335Musicke and Poesie vse, to quicken you,

¶The Mathematickes, and the Metaphysickes

¶Fall to them as you finde your stomacke serues you:

¶No profit growes, where is no pleasure tane:

¶In briefe sir, studie what you most affect.

340Luc. Gramercies Tranio, well dost thou aduise,

¶If Biondello thou wert come ashore,

¶We could at once put vs in readinesse,

¶And take a Lodging fit to entertaine

¶Such friends (as time) in Padua shall beget.

345But stay a while, what companie is this?

¶Tra. Master some shew to welcome vs to Towne.

¶

Enter Baptista with his two daughters, Katerina & Bianca,

¶

Gremio a Pantelowne, Hortentio sister to Bianca.

¶

Lucen. Tranio, stand by.

350Bap. Gentlemen, importune me no farther,

¶For how I firmly am resolu d you know:

¶That is, not to bestow my yongest daughter,

¶Before I haue a husband for the elder:

¶If either of you both loue Katherina,

355Because I know you well, and loue you well,

¶Leaue shall you haue to court her at your pleasure.

¶Gre. To cart her rather. She's to rough for mee,

¶There, there Hortensio, will you any Wife?

¶Kate. I pray you sir, is it your will

360To make a stale of me amongst these mates?

¶Hor. Mates maid, how meane you that?

¶No mates for you,

¶Vnlesse you were of gentler milder mould.

¶Kate. I'faith sir, you shall neuer neede to feare,

365I-wis it is not halfe way to her heart:

¶But if it were, doubt not, her care should be,

¶To combe your noddle with a three-legg'd stoole,

¶And paint your face, and vse you like a foole.

¶Hor. From all such diuels, good Lord deliuer vs.

370Gre. And me too, good Lord.

¶Tra.Husht master, heres some good pastime toward;

¶That wench is starke mad, or wonderfull froward.

¶Lucen. But in the others silence do I see,

¶Maids milde behauiour and sobrietie.

375Peace Tranio.

¶Tra. Well said M, mum, and gaze your fill.

¶Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soone make good

¶What I haue said, Bianca get you in,

¶And let it not displease thee good Bianca,

380For I will loue thee nere the lesse my girle.

¶Kate. A pretty peate, it is best put finger in the eye,

¶and she knew why.

¶Bian. Sister content you, in my discontent.

¶Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe:

385My bookes and instruments shall be my companie,

¶On them to looke, and practise by my selfe.

¶Luc. Harke Tranio, thou maist heare Minerua speak.

¶Hor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange,

¶Sorrie am I that our good will effects

390Bianca's greefe.

¶Gre. Why will you mew her vp

¶(Signior Baptista) for this fiend of hell,

¶And make her beare the pennance of her tongue.

¶Bap. Gentlemen content ye: I am resolud:

395Go in Bianca.

¶And for I know she taketh most delight

¶In Musicke, Instruments, and Poetry,

¶Schoolemasters will I keepe within my house,

¶Fit to instruct her youth. If you Hortensio,

400Or signior Gremio you know any such,

¶Preferre them hither: for to cunning men,

¶I will be very kinde and liberall,

¶To mine owne children, in good bringing vp,

¶And so farewell: Katherina you may stay,

405For I haue more to commune with Bianca.

Exit.

¶Kate. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not?

¶What shall I be appointed houres, as though

¶(Belike) I knew not what to take,

¶And what to leaue? Ha.

Exit

410Gre. You may go to the diuels dam: your guifts are

¶so good heere's none will holde you: Their loue is not

¶so great Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together,

¶and fast it fairely out. Our cakes dough on both sides.

¶Farewell: yet for the loue I beare my sweet Bianca, if

415I can by any meanes light on a fit man to teach her that

¶wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father.

¶Hor. So will I signiour Gremio: but a word I pray:

¶Though the nature of our quarrell yet neuer brook'd

¶parle, know now vpon aduice, it toucheth vs both: that

420we may yet againe haue accesse to our faire Mistris, and

¶be happie riuals in Bianca's loue, to labour and effect

¶one thing specially.

¶Gre. What's that I pray?

¶Hor. Marrie sir to get a husband for her Sister.

425Gre. A husband: a diuell.

¶Hor. I say a husband.

¶Gre. I say, a diuell: Think'st thou Hortensio, though

¶her father be verie rich, any man is so verie a foole to be

¶married to hell ?

430Hor. Tush Gremio: though it passe your patience &

¶mine to endure her lowd alarums, why man there bee

¶good fellowes in the world, and a man could light on

¶them, would take her with all faults, and mony enough.

¶Gre. I cannot tell: but I had as lief take her dowrie

435with this condition; To be whipt at the hie crosse euerie

¶morning.

¶Hor. Faith (as you say) there's small choise in rotten

¶apples: but come, since this bar in law makes vs friends,

¶it shall be so farre forth friendly maintain'd, till by hel-

440ping Baptistas eldest daughter to a husband, wee set his

¶yongest free for a husband, and then haue too t afresh:

¶Sweet Bianca, happy man be his dole: hee that runnes

¶fastest, gets the Ring: How say you signior Gremio?

¶Grem I am agreed, and would I had giuen him the

445best horse in Padua to begin his woing that would tho-

¶roughly woe her, wed her, and bed her, and ridde the

¶house of her. Come on.

¶

Exeunt ambo. Manet Tranio and Lucentio

¶Tra. I pray sir tel me, is it possible

450That loue should of a sodaine take such hold.

¶Luc. Oh Tranio, till I found it to be true,

¶I neuer thought it possible or likely.

¶But see, while idely I stood looking on,

¶I found the effect of Loue in idlenesse,

455And now in plainnesse do confesse to thee

¶That art to me as secret and as deere

¶As Anna to the Queene of Carthage was:

¶Tranio I burne, I pine, I perish Tranio,

¶If I atchieue not this yong modest gyrle:

460Counsaile me Tranio, for I know thou canst:

¶Assist me Tranio, for I know thou wilt.

¶Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you now,

¶Affection is not rated from the heart:

¶If loue haue touch'd you, naught remaines but so,

465Redime te captam quam queas minimo.

¶Luc Gramercies Lad: Go forward, this contents,

¶The rest wil comfort, for thy counsels sound.

¶Tra. Master, you look'd so longly on the maide,

¶Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all.

470Luc. Oh yes, I saw sweet beautie in her face,

¶Such as the daughter of Agenor had,

¶That made great Ioue to humble him to her hand,

¶When with his knees he kist the Cretan strond.

¶Tra.Saw you no more? Mark'd you not how hir sister

475Began to scold, and raise vp such a storme,

¶That mortal eares might hardly indure the din.

¶Luc. Tranio, I saw her corrall lips to moue,

¶And with her breath she did perfume the ayre,

¶Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her.

480Tra. Nay, then 'tis time to stirre him frō his trance:

¶I pray awake sir: if you loue the Maide,

¶Bend thoughts and wits to atcheeue her. Thus it stands:

¶Her elder sister is so curst and shrew'd,

¶That til the Father rid his hands of her,

485Master, your Loue must liue a maide at home,

¶And therefore has he closely meu'd her vp,

¶Because she will not be annoy'd with suters.

¶Luc. Ah Tranio, what a cruell Fathers he:

¶But art thou not aduis'd, he tooke some care

490To get her cunning Schoolemasters to instruct her.

¶Tra. I marry am I sir, and now 'tis plotted.

¶Luc. I haue it Tranio.

¶Tra. Master, for my hand,

¶Both our inuentions meet and iumpe in one.

495Luc. Tell me thine first.

¶Tra. You will be schoole-master,

¶And vndertake the teaching of the maid:

¶That's your deuice.

¶Luc. It is: May it be done?

500Tra. Not possible: for who shall beare your part,

¶And be in Padua heere Vincentio's sonne,

¶Keepe house, and ply his booke, welcome his friends,

¶Visit his Countrimen, and banquet them?

¶Luc. Basta, content thee: for I haue it full.

505We haue not yet bin seene in any house,

¶Nor can we be distinguish'd by our faces,

¶For man or master: then it followes thus;

¶Thou shalt be master, Tranio in my sted:

¶Keepe house, and port, and seruants, as I should,

510I will some other be, some Florentine,

¶Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa.

¶'Tis hatch'd, and shall be so: Tranio at once

¶Vncase thee: take my Conlord hat and cloake,

¶When Biondello comes, he waites on thee,

515But I will charme him first to keepe his tongue.

¶Tra. So had you neede:

¶In breefe Sir, sith it your pleasure is,

¶And I am tyed to be obedient,

¶For so your father charg'd me at our parting:

520Be seruiceable to my sonne (quoth he)

¶Although I thinke 'twas in another sence,

¶I am content to bee Lucentio,

¶Because so well I loue Lucentio.

¶Luc. Tranio be so, because Lucentio loues,

525And let me be a slaue, t'atchieue that maide,

¶Whose sodaine sight hath thral'd my wounded eye.

¶

Enter Biondello.

¶Heere comes the rogue. Sirra, where haue you bin?

¶Bion. Where haue I beene? Nay how now, where

530are you? Maister, ha's my fellow Tranio stolne your

¶cloathes, or you stolne his, or both? Pray what's the

¶newes?

¶Luc. Sirra come hither, 'tis no time to iest,

¶And therefore frame your manners to the time

535Your fellow Tranio heere to saue my life,

¶Puts my apparrell, and my count'nance on,

¶And I for my escape haue put on his:

¶For in a quarrell since I came a shore,

¶I kil'd a man, and feare I was descried:

540Waite you on him, I charge you, as becomes:

¶While I make way from hence to saue my life:

¶You vnderstand me?

¶Bion. I sir, ne're a whit.

¶Luc. And not a iot of Tranio in your mouth,

545Tranio is chang'd into Lucentio.

¶Bion. The better for him, would I were so too.

¶Tra. So could I 'faith boy, to haue the next wish af-

¶ter, that Lucentio indeede had Baptistas yongest daugh-

¶ter. But sirra, not for my sake, but your masters, I ad-

550uise you vse your manners discreetly in all kind of com-

¶panies: When I am alone, why then I am Tranio: but in

¶all places else, your master Lucentio.

¶Luc. Tranio let's go:

¶One thing more rests, that thy selfe execute,

555To make one among these wooers: if thou ask me why,

¶Sufficeth my reasons are both good and waighty.

¶

Exeunt. _The Presenters aboue speakes.

¶1. Man. My Lord you nod, you do not minde the

¶play.

560Beg. Yes by Saint Anne do I, a good matter surely:

¶Comes there any more of it?

¶Lady. My Lord, 'tis but begun.

¶Beg. 'Tis a verie excellent peece of worke, Madame

¶Ladie: would 'twere done.

They sit and marke.

¶Petr. Verona, for a while I take my leaue,

¶To see my friends in Padua; but of all

¶My best beloued and approued friend

¶Hortensio: & I trow this is his house:

570Heere sirra Grumio, knocke I say.

¶Gru. Knocke sir? whom should I knocke? Is there

¶any man ha's rebus'd your worship?

¶Petr. Villaine I say, knocke me heere soundly.

¶Gru. Knocke you heere sir? Why sir, what am I sir,

575that I should knocke you heere sir.

¶Petr. Villaine I say, knocke me at this gate,

¶And rap me well, or Ile knocke your knaues pate.

¶Gru. My M is growne quarrelsome:

¶I should knocke you first,

580And then I know after who comes by the worst.

¶Petr. Will it not be?

¶'Faith sirrah, and you'l not knocke, Ile ring it,

¶Ile trie how you can Sol,Fa, and sing it.

¶

He rings him by the eares

585Gru. Helpe mistris helpe, my master is mad.

¶Petr. Now knocke when I bid you: sirrah villaine.

¶

Enter Hortensio.

¶Hor. How now, what's the matter? My olde friend

¶Grumio, and my good friend Petruchio? How do you all

590at Verona?

¶Petr. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray?

¶Contutti le core bene trobatto, may I say.

¶Hor. Alla nostra casa bene venuto multo honorata signi-

¶or mio Petruchio.

595Rise Grumio rise, we will compound this quarrell.

¶Gru. Nay 'tis no matter sir, what he leges in Latine.

¶If this be not a lawfull cause for me to leaue his seruice,

¶looke you sir: He bid me knocke him,& rap him sound-

¶ly sir. Well, was it fit for a seruant to vse his master so,

600being perhaps (for ought I see) two and thirty, a peepe

¶out?

Whom would to God I had well knockt at first,

¶then had not Grumio come by the worst.

¶Petr. A sencelesse villaine: good Hortensio,

¶I bad the rascall knocke vpon your gate,

605And could not get him for my heart to do it.

¶Gru. Knocke at the gate? O heauens: spake you not

¶these words plaine? Sirra, Knocke me heere: rappe me

¶heere: knocke me well, and knocke me soundly? And

¶come you now with knocking at the gate?

610Petr. Sirra be gone, or talke not I aduise you.

¶Hor. Petruchio patience, I am Grumio's pledge:

¶Why this a heauie chance twixr him and you,

¶Your ancient trustie pleasant seruant Grumio:

¶And tell me now (sweet friend) what happie gale

615Blowes you to Padua heere, from old Verona?

¶Petr.Such wind as scatters yongmen throgh y world,

¶To seeke their fortunes farther then at home,

¶Where small experience growes but in a few.

¶Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me,

620Antonio my father is deceast,

¶And I haue thrust my selfe into this maze,

¶Happily to wiue and thriue, as best I may:

¶Crownes in my purse I haue, and goods at home,

¶And so am come abroad to see the world.

625Hor. Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee,

¶And wish thee to a shrew'd ill-fauour'd wife?

¶Thou'dst thanke me but a little for my counsell:

¶And yet Ile promise thee she shall be rich,

¶And verie rich: but th'art too much my friend,

630And Ile not wish thee to her.

¶Petr. Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as wee,

¶Few words suffice: and therefore, if thou know

¶One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife:

¶(As wealth is burthen of my woing dance)

635Be she as foule as was Florentius Loue,

¶As old as Sibell, and as curst and shrow'd

¶As Socrates Zentippe, or a worse:

¶She moues me not, or not remoues at least

¶Affections edge in me. Were she is as rough

640As are the swelling Adriaticke seas.

¶I come to wiue it wealthily in Padua:

¶If wealthily, then happily in Padua.

¶Gru. Nay looke you sir, hee tels you flatly what his

¶minde is: why giue him Gold enough, and marrie him

645to a Puppet or an Aglet babie, or an old trot with ne're a

¶tooth in her head, though she haue as manie diseases as

¶two and fiftie horses. Why nothing comes amisse, so

¶monie comes withall.

¶Hor. Petruchio, since we are stept thus farre in,

650I will continue that I broach'd in iest,

¶I can Petruchio helpe thee to a wife

¶With wealth enough, and yong and beautious,

¶Brought vp as best becomes a Gentlewoman.

¶Her onely fault, and that is faults enough,

655Is, that she is intollerable curst,

¶And shrow'd, and froward, so beyond all measure,

¶That were my state farre worser then it is,

¶I would not wed her for a mine of Gold.

¶Petr. Hortensio peace: thou knowst not golds effect,

660Tell me her fathers name, and 'tis enough:

¶For I will boord her, though she chide as loud

¶As thunder, when the clouds in Autumne cracke.

¶Hor. Her father is Baptista Minola,

¶An affable and courteous Gentleman,

665Her name is Katherina Minola,

¶Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue.

¶Petr. I know her father, though I know not her,

¶And he knew my deceased father well:

¶I wil not sleepe Hortensio til I see her,

670And therefore let me be thus bold with you,

¶To giue you ouer at this first encounter,

¶Vnlesse you wil accompanie me thither.

¶Gru. I pray you Sir let him go while the humor lasts.

¶A my word, and she knew him as wel as I do, she would

675thinke scolding would doe little good vpon him. Shee

¶may perhaps call him halfe a score Knaues, or so: Why

¶that's nothing; and he begin once, hee'l raile in his rope

¶trickes. Ile tell you what sir, and she stand him but a li-

¶tle, he wil throw a figure in her face, and so disfigure hir

680with it, that shee shal haue no more eies to see withall

¶then a Cat: you know him not sir.

¶Hor. Tarrie Petruchio, I must go with thee,

¶For in Baptistas keepe my treasure is:

¶He hath the Iewel of my life in hold,

685His yongest daughter, beautiful Bianca,

¶And her with-holds from me. Other more

¶Suters to her, and riuals in my Loue:

¶Supposing it a thing impossible,

¶For those defects I haue before rehearst,

690That euer Katherina wil be woo'd:

¶Therefore this order hath Baptista tane,

¶That none shal haue accesse vnto Bianca,

¶Til Katherine the Curst, haue got a husband.

¶Gru. Katherine the curst,

695A title for a maide, of all titles the worst.

¶Hor. Now shal my friend Petruchio do me grace,

¶And offer me disguis'd in sober robes,

¶To old Baptista as a schoole-master

¶Well seene in Musicke, to instruct Bianca,

700That so I may by this deuice at least

¶Haue leaue and leisure to make loue to her,

¶And vnsuspected court her by her selfe.

¶

Enter Gremio and Lucentio disgused.

¶Gru. Heere's no knauerie. See, to beguile the olde-

705folkes, how the young folkes lay their heads together.

¶Master, master, looke about you: Who goes there? ha.

¶Hor. Peace Grumio, it is the riuall of my Loue.

¶Petruchio stand by a while.

¶Grumio. A proper stripling, and an amorous.

710Gremio. O very well, I haue perus'd the note:

¶Hearke you sir, Ile haue them verie fairely bound,

¶All bookes of Loue, see that at any hand,

¶And see you reade no other Lectures to her:

¶You vnderstand me. Ouer and beside

715Signior Baptistas liberalitie,

¶Ile mend it with a Largesse. Take your paper too,

¶And let me haue them verie wel perfum'd;

¶For she is sweeter then perfume it selfe

¶To whom they go to: what wil you reade to her.

720Luc. What ere I reade to her, Ile pleade for you,

¶As for my patron, stand you so assur'd,

¶As firmely as your selfe were still in place,

¶Yea and perhaps with more successefull words

¶Then you; vnlesse you were a scholler sir.

725Gre. Oh this learning, what a thing it is.

¶Gru. Oh this Woodcocke, what an Asse it is.

¶Petru. Peace sirra.

¶Hor. Grumio mum: God saue you signior Gremio.

¶Gre. And you are wel met, Signior Hortensio.

730Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola,

¶I promist to enquire carefully

¶About a schoolemaster for the faire Bianca,

¶And by good fortune I haue lighted well

¶On this yong man: For learning and behauiour

735Fit for her turne, well read in Poetrie

¶And other bookes, good ones, I warrant ye.

¶Hor. 'Tis well: and I haue met a Gentleman

¶Hath promist me to helpe one to another,

¶A fine Musitian to instruct our Mistris,

740So shal I no whit be behinde in dutie

¶To faire Bianca, so beloued of me.

¶Gre. Beloued of me, and that my deeds shal proue.

¶Gru. And that his bags shal proue.

¶Hor. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our loue,

745Listen to me, and if you speake me faire,

¶Ile tel you newes indifferent good for either.

¶Heere is a Gentleman whom by chance I met

¶Vpon agreement from vs to his liking,

¶Will vndertake to woo curst Katherine,

750Yea, and to marrie her, if her dowrie please.

¶Gre. So said, so done, is well:

¶Hortensio, haue you told him all her faults?

¶Petr. I know she is an irkesome brawling scold:

¶If that be all Masters, I heare no harme.

755Gre. No, sayst me so, friend? What Countreyman?

¶Petr. Borne in Verona, old Butonios sonne:

¶My father dead, my fortune liues for me,

¶And I do hope, good dayes and long, to see.

¶Gre. Oh sir, such a life with such a wife, were strange:

760But if you haue a stomacke, too't a Gods name,

¶You shal haue me assisting you in all.

¶But will you woo this Wilde-cat?

¶Petr. Will I liue?

¶Gru. Wil he woo her? I: or Ile hang her.

765Petr. Why came I hither, but to that intent?

¶Thinke you, a little dinne can daunt mine eares?

¶Haue I not in my time heard Lions rore?

¶Haue I not heard the sea, puft vp with windes,

¶Rage like an angry Boare, chafed with sweat?

770Haue I not heard great Ordnance in the field?

¶And heauens Artillerie thunder in the skies?

¶Haue I not in a pitched battell heard

¶Loud larums, neighing steeds, & trumpets clangue?

¶And do you tell me of a womans tongue?

775That giues not halfe so great a blow to heare,

¶As wil a Chesse-nut in a Farmers fire.

¶Tush, tush, feare boyes with bugs.

¶Gru. For he feares none.

¶Grem. Hortensio hearke:

780This Gentleman is happily arriu'd,

¶My minde presumes for his owne good, and yours.

¶Hor. I promist we would be Contributors,

¶And beare his charge of wooing whatsoere.

¶Gremio. And so we wil, prouided that he win her.

785Gru. I would I were as sure of a good dinner.

¶

Enter Tranio braue, and Biondello.

¶Tra. Gentlemen God saue you. If I may be bold

¶Tell me I beseech you, which is the readiest way

¶To the house of Signior Baptista Minola?

790Bion. He that ha's the two faire daughters: ist he you

¶meane?

¶Tra. Euen he Biondello.

¶Gre. Hearke you sir, you meane not her to---

¶Tra. Perhaps him and her sir, what haue you to do?

795Petr. Not her that chides sir, at any hand I pray.

¶Tranio. I loue no chiders sir: Biondello, let's away.

¶Luc Well begun Tranio.

¶Hor. Sir, a word ere you go:

¶Are you a sutor to the Maid you talke of, yea or no?

800Tra. And if I be sir, is it any offence?

¶Gremio.No: if without more words you will get you

¶hence.

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

¶For me, as for you?

805Gre. But so is not she.

¶Tra. For what reason I beseech you.

¶Gre. For this reason if you'l kno,

¶That she's the choise loue of Signior Gremio.

¶Hor. That she's the chosen of signior Hortensio.

810Tra. Softly my Masters: If you be Gentlemen

¶Do me this right: heare me with patience.

¶Baptista is a noble Gentleman,

¶To whom my Father is not all vnknowne,

¶And were his daughter fairer then she is,

815She may more sutors haue, and me for one.

¶Faire Lædaes daughter had a thousand wooers,

¶Then well one more may faire Bianca haue;

¶And so she shall: Lucentio shal make one,

¶Though Paris came, in hope to speed alone.

820Gre. What, this Gentleman will out-talke vs all.

¶Luc. Sir giue him head, I know hee'l proue a Iade.

¶Petr. Hortensio, to what end are all these words?

¶Hor. Sir, let me be so bold as aske you,

¶Did you yet euer see Baptistas daughter?

825Tra. No sir, but heare I do that he hath two:

¶The one, as famous for a scolding tongue,

¶As is the other, for beauteous modestie.

¶Petr. Sir, sir, the first's for me, let her go by.

¶Gre. Yea, leaue that labour to great Hercules,

830And let it be more then Alcides twelue.

¶Petr. Sir vnderstand you this of me (insooth)

¶The yongest daughter whom you hearken for,

¶Her father keepes from all accesse of sutors,

¶And will not promise her to any man,

835Vntill the elder sister first be wed.

¶The yonger then is free, and not before.

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

¶Must steed vs all, and me amongst the rest:

¶And if you breake the ice, and do this seeke,

840Atchieue the elder: set the yonger free,

¶For our accesse, whose hap shall be to haue her,

¶Wil not so gracelesse be, to be ingrate.

¶Hor. Sir you say wel, and wel you do conceiue,

¶And since you do professe to be a sutor,

845You must as we do, gratifie this Gentleman,

¶To whom we all rest generally beholding.

¶Tranio. Sir, I shal not be slacke, in signe whereof,

¶Please ye we may contriue this afternoone,

¶And quaffe carowses to our Mistresse health,

850And do as aduersaries do in law,

¶Striue mightily, but eate and drinke as friends.

¶Gru.Bion.Oh excellent motion: fellowes let's be gon.

¶Hor. The motions good indeed, and be it so,

¶Petruchio, I shal be your Been venuto.

Exeunt.

855

Enter Katherina and Bianca.

¶Bian.Good sister wrong me not, nor wrong your self,

¶To make a bondmaide and a slaue of mee,

¶That I disdaine: but for these other goods,

¶Vnbinde my hands, Ile pull them off my selfe,

860Yea all my raiment, to my petticoate,

¶Or what you will command me, wil I do,

¶So well I know my dutie to my elders.

¶Kate. Of all thy sutors heere I charge tel

¶Whom thou lou'st best: see thou dissemble not.

865Bianca. Beleeue me sister, of all the men aliue,

¶I neuer yet beheld that speciall face,

¶Which I could fancie, more then any other.

¶Kate. Minion thou lyest: Is't not Hortensio?

¶Bian. If you affect him sister, heere I sweare

870Ile pleade for you my selfe, but you shal haue him.

¶Kate. Oh then belike you fancie riches more,

¶You wil haue Gremio to keepe you faire.

¶Bian. Is it for him you do enuie me so?

¶Nay then you iest, and now I wel perceiue

875You haue but iested with me all this while:

¶I prethee sister Kate, vntie my hands.

¶Ka. If that be iest, then all the rest was so. Strikes her

¶

Enter Baptista.

¶Bap. Why how now Dame, whence growes this in-

880solence?

¶Bianca stand aside, poore gyrle she weepes:

¶Go ply thy Needle, meddle not with her.

¶For shame thou Hilding of a diuellish spirit,

¶Why dost thou wrong her, that did nere wrong thee?

885When did she crosse thee with a bitter word?

¶Kate. Her silence flouts me, and Ile be reueng'd.

¶

Flies after Bianca

¶Bap. What in my sight? Bianca get thee in.

Exit.

¶Kate. What will you not suffer me: Nay now I see

890She is your treasure, she must haue a husband,

¶I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day,

¶And for your loue to her, leade Apes in hell.

¶Talke not to me, I will go sit and weepe,

¶Till I can finde occasion of reuenge.

895Bap. Was euer Gentleman thus greeu'd as I?

¶But who comes heere.

¶

Enter Gremio, Lucentio, in the habit of a meane man,

¶Petruchio with Tranio, with his boy

¶bearing a Lute and Bookes.

900Gre. Good morrow neighbour Baptista.

¶Bap. Good morrow neighbour Gremio: God saue

¶you Gentlemen.

¶Pet. And you good sir: pray haue you not a daugh-

¶ter, cal'd Katerina, faire and vertuous.

905Bap. I haue a daughter sir, cal'd Katerina.

¶Gre. You are too blunt, go to it orderly.

¶Pet. You wrong me signior Gremio, giue me leaue.

¶I am a Gentleman of Verona sir,

¶That hearing of her beautie, and her wit,

910Her affability and bashfull modestie:

¶Her wondrous qualities, and milde behauiour,

¶Am bold to shew my selfe a forward guest

¶Within your house, to make mine eye the witnesse

¶Of that report, which I so oft haue heard,

915And for an entrance to my entertainment,

¶I do present you with a man of mine

¶Cunning in Musicke, and the Mathematickes,

¶To instruct her fully in those sciences,

¶Whereof I know she is not ignorant,

920Accept of him, or else you do me wrong,

¶His name is Litio, borne in Mantua.

¶Bap. Y'are welcome sir, and he for your good sake.

¶But for my daughter Katerine, this I know,

¶She is not for your turne, the more my greefe.

925Pet. I see you do not meane to part with her,

¶Or else you like not of my companie.

¶Bap. Mistake me not, I speake but as I finde,

¶Whence are you sir? What may I call your name.

¶Pet. Petruchio is my name, Antonio's sonne,

930A man well knowne throughout all Italy.

¶Bap. I know him well: you are welcome for his sake.

¶Gre. Sauing your tale Petruchio, I pray let vs that are

¶poore petitioners speake too? Bacare, you are meruay-

¶lous forward.

935Pet. Oh, Pardon me signior Gremio, I would faine be

¶doing.

¶Gre. I doubt it not sir. But you will curse

¶Your wooing neighbors: this is a guift

¶Very gratefull, I am sure of it, to expresse

940The like kindnesse my selfe, that haue beene

¶More kindely beholding to you then any:

¶Freely giue vnto this yong Scholler, that hath

¶Beene long studying at Rhemes, as cunning

¶In Greeke, Latine, and other Languages,

945As the other in Musicke and Mathematickes:

¶His name is Cambio: pray accept his seruice.

¶Bap. A thousand thankes signior Gremio:

¶Welcome good Cambio. But gentle sir,

¶Me thinkes you walke like a stranger,

950May I be so bold, to know the cause of your comming?

¶Tra. Pardon me sir, the boldnesse is mine owne,

¶That being a stranger in this Cittie heere,

¶Do make my selfe as utor to your daughter,

¶Vnto Bianca, faire and vertuous:

955Nor is your firme resolue vnknowne to me,

¶In the preferment of the eldest sister.

¶This liberty is all that I request,

¶That vpon knowledge of my Parentage,

¶I may haue welcome 'mongst the rest that woo,

960And free accesse and fauour as the rest.

¶And toward the education of your daughters:

¶I heere bestow a simple instrument,

¶And this small packet of Greeke and Latine bookes:

¶If you accept them, then their worth is great:

965Bap. Lucentio is your name, of whence I pray.

¶Tra. Of Pisa sir, sonne to Vincentio.

¶Bap. A mightie man of Pisa by report,

¶I know him well: you are verie welcome sir:

¶Take you the Lute, and you the set of bookes,

970You shall go see your Pupils presently.

¶Holla, within.

¶

Enter a Seruant.

¶Sirrah, leade these Gentlemen

¶To my daughters, and tell them both

975These are their Tutors, bid them vse them well,

¶We will go walke a little in the Orchard,

¶And then to dinner: you are passing welcome,

¶And so I pray you all to thinke your selues.

¶Pet. Signior Baptista, my businesse asketh haste,

980And euerie day I cannot come to woo,

¶You knew my father well, and in him me,

¶Left solie heire to all his Lands and goods,

¶Which I haue bettered rather then decreast,

¶Then tell me, if I get your daughters loue,

985What dowrie shall I haue with her to wife.

¶Bap. After my death, the one halfe of my Lands,

¶And in possession twentie thousand Crownes.

¶Pet And for that dowrie, Ile assure her of

¶Her widdow-hood, be it that she suruiue me

990In all my Lands and Leases whatsoeuer,

¶Let specialties be therefore drawne betweene vs,

¶That couenants may be kept on either hand.

¶Bap. I, when the speciall thing is well obtain'd,

¶That is her loue: for that is all in all.

995Pet. Why that is nothing: for I tell you father,

¶I am as peremptorie as she proud minded:

¶And where two raging fires meete together,

¶They do consume the thing that feedes their furie.

¶Though little fire growes great with little winde,

1000yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all:

¶So I to her, and so she yeelds to me,

¶For I am rough, and woo not like a babe.

¶Bap. Well maist thou woo, and happy be thy speed:

¶But be thou arm'd for some vnhappie words.

1005Pet. I to the proofe, as Mountaines are for windes,

¶That shakes not, though they blow perpetually.

¶

Enter Hortensio with his head broke.

¶Bap. How now my friend, why dost thou looke so

¶pale?

1010Hor. For feare I promise you, if I looke pale.

¶Bap. What, will my daughter proue a good Musiti-

¶an?

¶Hor. I thinke she'l sooner proue a souldier,

¶Iron may hold with her, but neuer Lutes.

1015Bap. 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 mistooke her frets,

¶And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering,

¶When (with a most impatient diuellish spirit)

1020Frets call you these? (quoth she) Ile fume with them:

¶And with that word she stroke me on the head,

¶And through the instrument my pate made way,

¶And there I stood amazed for a while,

¶As on a Pillorie, looking through the Lute,

1025While she did call me Rascall, Fidler,

¶And twangling Iacke, with twentie such vilde tearmes,

¶As had she studied to misvse me so.

¶Pet. Now by the world, it is a lustie Wench,

¶I loue her ten times more then ere I did,

1030Oh how I long to haue some chat with her.

¶Bap. Wel go with me, and be not so discomfited.

¶Proceed in practise with my yonger daughter,

¶She's apt to learne, and thankefull for good turnes:

¶Signior Petruchio, will you go with vs,

1035Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you.

¶

Exit. Manet Petruchio.

¶Pet. I pray you do. Ile attend her heere,

¶And woo her with some spirit when she comes,

¶Say that she raile, why then Ile tell her plaine,

1040She sings as sweetly as a Nightinghale:

¶Say that she frowne, Ile say she lookes as cleere

¶As morning Roses newly washt with dew:

¶Say she be mute, and will not speake a word,

¶Then Ile commend her volubility,

1045And say she vttereth piercing eloquence:

¶If she do bid me packe, Ile giue her thankes,

¶As though she bid me stay by her a weeke:

¶If she denie to wed, Ile craue the day

¶When I shall aske the banes, and when be married.

1050But heere she comes, and now Petruchio speake.

¶

Enter Katerina.

¶Good morrow Kate, for thats your name I heare.

¶Kate. Well haue you heard, but something hard of

¶hearing:

1055They call me Katerine, that do talke of me.

¶Pet. You lye infaith, for you are call'd plaine Kate,

¶And bony Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst:

¶But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendome,

¶Kate of Kate-hall, my super-daintie Kate,

1060For dainties are all Kates, and therefore Kate

¶Take this of me, Kate of my consolation,

¶Hearing thy mildnesse prais'd in euery Towne,

¶Thy vertues spoke of, and thy beautie sounded,

¶Yet not so deepely as to thee belongs,

1065My selfe am moou'd to woo thee for my wife.

¶Kate. Mou'd, in good time, let him that mou'd you

¶hether

¶Remoue you hence: I knew you at the first

¶You were a mouable.

1070Pet. Why, what's a mouable?

¶Kat. A ioyn'd stoole.

¶Pet. Thou hast hit it: come sit on me.

¶Kate. Asses are made to beare, and so are you.

¶Pet. Women are made to beare, and so are you.

1075Kate. No such Iade as you, if me you meane.

¶Pet. Alas good Kate, I will not burthen thee,

¶For knowing thee to be but yong and light.

¶Kate. Too light for such a swaine as you to catch,

¶And yet as heauie as my waight should be.

1080Pet. Shold be, should: buzze.

¶Kate. Well tane, and like a buzzard.

¶Pet.Oh slow-wing'd Turtle, shal a buzard take thee?

¶Kat. I for a Turtle, as he takes a buzard.

¶Pet. Come, come you Waspe, y'faith you are too

1085angrie.

¶Kate. If I be waspish, best beware my sting.

¶Pet. My remedy is then to plucke it out.

¶Kate. I, if the foole could finde it where it lies.

¶Pet. Who knowes not where a Waspe does weare

1090his sting? In his taile.

¶Kate. In his tongue?

¶Pet. Whose tongue.

¶Kate. Yours if you talke of tales, and so farewell.

¶Pet. What with my tongue in your taile.

1095Nay, come againe, good Kate, I am a Gentleman,

¶Kate. That Ile trie.

she strikes him

¶Pet. I sweare Ile cuffe you, if you strike againe.

¶Kate. So may you loose your armes,

¶If you strike me, you are no Gentleman,

1100And if no Gentleman, why then no armes.

¶Pet. A Herald Kate? Oh put me in thy bookes.

¶Kate. What is your Crest, a Coxcombe?

¶Pet. A comblesse Cocke, so Kate will be my Hen.

¶Kate. No Cocke of mine, you crow too like a crauen

1105Pet. Nay come Kate, come: you must not looke so

¶sowre.

¶Kate. It is my fashion when I see a Crab.

¶Pet. Why heere's no crab, and therefore looke not

¶sowre.

1110Kate. There is, there is.

¶Pet. Then shew it me.

¶Kate. Had I a glasse, I would.

¶Pet. What, you meane my face.

¶Kate. Well aym'd of such a yong one.

1115Pet. Now by S. George I am too yong for you.

¶Kate. Yet you are wither'd.

¶Pet. 'Tis with cares.

¶Kate. I care not.

¶Pet. Nay heare you Kate. Insooth you scape not so.

1120Kate. I chafe you if I tarrie. Let me go.

¶Pet. No, not a whit, I finde you passing gentle:

¶'Twas told me you were rough, and coy, and sullen,

¶And now I finde report a very liar:

¶For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous,

1125But slow in speech: yet sweet as spring-time flowers.

¶Thou canst not frowne, thou canst not looke a sconce,

¶Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,

¶Nor hast thou pleasure to be crosse in talke:

¶But thou with mildnesse entertain'st thy wooers,

1130With gentle conference, soft, and affable.

¶Why does the world report that Kate doth limpe?

¶Oh sland'rous world: Kate like the hazle twig

¶Is straight, and slender, and as browne in hue

¶As hazle nuts, and sweeter then the kernels:

1135Oh let me see thee walke: thou dost not halt.

¶Kate. Go foole, and whom thou keep'st command.

¶Pet. Did euer Dian so become a Groue

¶As Kate this chamber with her princely gate:

¶O be thou Dian, and let her be Kate,

1140And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportfull.

¶Kate. Where did you study all this goodly speech?

¶Petr. It is extempore, from my mother wit.

¶Kate. A witty mother, witlesse else her sonne.

¶Pet. Am I not wise?

1145Kat. Yes, keepe you warme.

¶Pet. Marry so I meane sweet Katherine in thy bed:

¶And therefore setting all this chat aside,

¶Thus in plaine termes: your father hath consented

¶That you shall be my wife; your dowry greed on,

1150And will you, nill you, I will marry you.

¶Now Kate, I am a husband for your turne,

¶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,

1155

Enter Baptista, Gremio, Trayno.

¶For I am he am borne to tame you Kate,

¶And bring you from a wilde Kate to a Kate

¶Conformable as other houshold Kates:

¶Heere comes your father, neuer make deniall,

1160Imust, and will haue Katherine to my wife.

¶Bap. Now Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my

(daughter?

¶Pet. How but well sir?how but well?

¶It were impossible I should speed amisse.

¶Bap. Why how now daughter Katherine, in your

(dumps?

1165Kat. Call you me daughter? now I promise you

¶You haue shewd a tender fatherly regard,

¶To wish me wed to one halfe Lunaticke,

¶A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Iacke,

¶That thinkes with oathes to face the matter out.

1170Pet. Father, 'tis thus, your selfe and all the world

¶That talk'd of her, haue talk'd amisse of her:

¶If she be curst, it is for pollicie,

¶For shee's not froward, but modest as the Doue,

¶Shee is not hot, but temperate as the morne,

1175For patience shee will proue a second Grissell,

¶And Romane Lucrece for her chastitie:

¶And to conclude, we haue greed so well together,

¶That vpon sonday is the wedding day.

¶Kate. Ile see thee hang'd on sonday first.

1180Gre. Hark Petruchio, she saies shee'll see thee hang'd

(first.

¶Tra.Is this your speeding?nay thē godnight our part.

¶Pet. Be patient gentlemen, I choose her for my selfe,

¶If she and I be pleas'd, what's that to you?

¶'Tis bargain'd twixt vs twaine being alone,

1185That she shall still be curst in company.

¶I tell you 'tis incredible to beleeue

¶How much she loues me: oh the kindest Kate,

¶Shee hung about my necke, and kisse on kisse

¶Shee vi'd so fast, protesting oath on oath,

1190That in a twinke she won me to her loue.

¶Oh you are nouices, 'tis a world to see

¶How tame when men and women are alone,

¶A meacocke wretch can make the curstest shrew:

¶Giue me thy hand Kate, I will vnto Venice

1195To buy apparell 'gainst the wedding day;

¶Prouide the feast father, and bid the guests,

¶I will be sure my Katherine shall be fine.

¶Bap. I know not what to say, but giue me your hāds,

¶God send you ioy, Petruchio, 'tis a match.

1200Gre.Tra. Amen say we, we will be witnesses.

¶Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen adieu,

¶I will to Venice, sonday comes apace,

¶We will haue rings, and things, and fine array,

¶And kisse me Kate, we will be married a sonday.

1205

Exit Petruchio and Katherine.

¶Gre. Was euer match clapt vp so sodainly?

¶Bap. Faith Gentlemen now I play a marchants part,

¶And venture madly on a desperate Mart.

¶Tra. Twas a commodity lay fretting by you,

1210'Twill bring you gaine, or perish on the seas.

¶Bap. The gaine I seeke, is quiet me the match.

¶Gre. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch:

¶But now Baptista, to your yonger daughter,

¶Now is the day we long haue looked for,

1215I am your neighbour, and was suter first.

¶Tra. And I am one that loue Bianca more

¶Then words can witnesse, or your thoughts can guesse.

¶Gre. Yongling thou canst not loue so deare as I.

¶Tra. Gray-beard thy loue doth freeze.

1220Gre. But thine doth frie,

¶Skipper stand backe, 'tis age that nourisheth.

¶Tra. But youth in Ladies eyes that florisheth.

¶Bap.Content you gentlemen, I wil cōpound this strife

¶'Tis deeds must win the prize, and he of both

1225That can assure my daughter greatest dower,

¶Shall haue my Biancas loue.

¶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,

1230Basons and ewers to laue her dainty hands:

¶My hangings all of tirian tapestry:

¶In Iuory cofers I haue stuft my crownes:

¶In Cypres chests my arras counterpoints,

¶Costly apparell, tents, and Canopies,

1235Fine Linnen, Turky cushions bost with pearle,

¶Vallens of Venice gold, in needle worke:

¶Pewter and brasse, and all things that belongs

¶To house or house-keeping: then at my farme

¶I haue a hundred milch-kine to the pale,

1240Sixe-score fat Oxen standing in my stalls,

¶And all things answerable to this portion.

¶My selfe am strooke in yeeres I must confesse,

¶And if I die to morrow this is hers,

¶If whil'st I liue she will be onely mine.

1245Tra. That only came well in: sir, list to me,

¶I am my fathers heyre and onely sonne,

¶If I may haue your daughter to my wife,

¶Ile leaue her houses three or foure as good

¶Within rich Pisa walls, as any one

1250Old Signior Gremio has in Padua,

¶Besides, two thousand Duckets by the yeere

¶Of fruitfull land, all which shall be her ioynter.

¶What, haue I pincht you Signior Gremio?

¶Gre. Two thousand Duckets by the yeere of land,

1255My Land amounts not to so much in all:

¶That she shall haue, besides an Argosie

¶That now is lying in Marcellus roade:

¶What, haue I choakt you with an Argosie?

¶Tra. Gremio, 'tis knowne my father hath no lesse

1260Then three great Argosies, besides two Galliasses

¶And twelue tite Gallies, these I will assure her,

¶And twice as much what ere thou offrest next.

¶Gre. Nay, I haue offred all, I haue no more,

¶And she can haue no more then all I haue,

1265If you like me, she shall haue me and mine.

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

¶By your firme promise, Gremio is out-vied.

¶Bap. I must confesse your offer is the best,

¶And let your father make her the assurance,

1270Shee is your owne, else you must pardon me:

¶If you should die before him, where's her dower?

¶Tra. That's but a cauill: he is olde, I young.

¶Gre. And may not yong men die as well as old?

¶Bap. Well gentlemen, I am thus resolu'd,

1275On sonday next, you know

¶My daughter Katherine is to be married:

¶Now on the sonday following, shall Bianca

¶Be Bride to you, if you make this assurance:

¶If not, to Signior Gremio:

1280And so I take my leaue, and thanke you both.

Exit.

¶Gre. Adieu good neighbour: now I feare thee not:

¶Sirra, yong gamester, your father were a foole

¶To giue thee all, and in his wayning age

¶Set foot vnder thy table: tut, a toy,

1285An olde Italian foxe is not so kinde my boy.

Exit.

¶Tra. A vengeance on your crafty withered hide,

¶Yet I haue fac'd it with a card of ten:

¶'Tis in my head to doe my master good:

¶I see no reason but suppos'd Lucentio

1290Must get a father, call'd suppos'd Uincentio,

¶And that's a wonder: fathers commonly

¶Doe get their children: but in this case of woing,

¶A childe shall get a sire, if I faile not of my cunning.

Exit.

1295

Enter Lucentio, Hortentio, and Bianca.

¶Luc. Fidler forbeare, you grow too forward Sir,

¶Haue you so soone forgot the entertainment

¶Her sister Katherine welcom'd you withall.

¶Hort. But wrangling pedant, this is

1300The patronesse of heauenly harmony:

¶Then giue me leaue to haue prerogatiue,

¶And when in Musicke we haue spent an houre,

¶Your Lecture shall haue leisure for as much.

¶Luc. Preposterous Asse that neuer read so farre,

1305To know the cause why musicke was ordain'd:

¶Was it not to refresh the minde of man

¶After his studies, or his vsuall paine?

¶Then giue me leaue to read Philosophy,

¶And while I pause, serue in your harmony.

1310Hort. Sirra, I will not beare these braues of thine.

¶Bianc. Why gentlemen, you doe me double wrong,

¶To striue for that which resteth in my choice:

¶Iam no breeching scholler in the schooles,

¶Ile not be tied to howres, nor pointed times,

1315But learne my Lessons as I please my selfe,

¶And to cut off all strife: heere sit we downe,

¶Take you your instrument, play you the whiles,

¶His Lecture will be done ere you haue tun'd.

¶Hort. You'll leaue his Lecture when I am in tune?

1320Luc. That will be neuer, tune your instrument.

¶Bian. Where left we last?

¶Luc. Heere Madam: Hic Ibat Simois, hic est sigeria

¶tellus, hic steterat Priami regia Celsa senis.

¶Bian. Conster them.

1325Luc. Hic Ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lu-

¶centio, hic est, sonne vnto Vincentio of Pisa, Sigeria tel-

¶lus, disguised thus to get your loue, hic steterat, and that

¶Lucentio that comes a wooing, priami, is my man Tra-

¶nio, regia, bearing my port, celsa senis that we might be-

1330guile the old Pantalowne.

¶Hort. Madam, my Instrument's in tune.

¶Bian. Let's heare, oh fie, the treble iarres.

¶Luc. Spit in the hole man, and tune againe.

¶Bian. Now let mee see if I can conster it. Hic ibat si-

1335mois, I know you not, hic est sigeria tellus, I trust you not,

¶hic staterat priami, take heede he heare vs not, regia pre-

¶sume not, Celsa senis, despaire not.

¶Hort. Madam, tis now in tune.

¶Luc. All but the base.

1340Hort. The base is right, 'tis the base knaue that iars.

¶Luc. How fiery and forward our Pedant is,

¶Now for my life the knaue doth court my loue,

¶Pedascule, Ile watch you better yet:

¶In time I may beleeue, yet I mistrust.

1345Bian. Mistrust it not, for sure Æacides

¶Was Aiax cald so from his grandfather.

¶Hort. I must beleeue my master, else I promise you,

¶I should be arguing still vpon that doubt,

¶But let it rest, now Litio to you:

1350Good master take it not vnkindly pray

¶That I haue beene thus pleasant with you both.

¶Hort. You may go walk, and giue me leaue a while,

¶My Lessons make no musicke in three parts.

¶Luc. Are you so formall sir, well I must waite

1355And watch withall, for but I be deceiu'd,

¶Our fine Musitian groweth amorous.

¶Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument,

¶To learne the order of my fingering,

¶I must begin with rudiments of Art,

1360To teach you gamoth in a briefer sort,

¶More pleasant, pithy, and effectuall,

¶Then hath beene taught by any of my trade,

¶And there it is in writing fairely drawne.

¶Bian. Why, I am past my gamouth long agoe.

1365Hor. Yet read the gamouth of Hortentio.

¶Bian. Gamouth I am, the ground of all accord:

¶Are, to plead Hortensio's passion:

¶Beeme, Bianca take him for thy Lord

¶Cfavt, that loues with all affection:

1370D solre, one Cliffe, two notes haue I,

¶Ela mi, show pitty or I die,

¶Call you this gamouth? tut I like it not,

¶Old fashions please me best, I am not so nice

¶To charge true rules for old inuentions.

1375

Enter a Messenger.

¶Nicke. Mistresse, your father prayes you leaue your

(books,

¶And helpe to dresse your sisters chamber vp,

¶You know to morrow is the wedding day.

¶Bian. Farewell sweet masters both, I must be gone.

1380Luc. Faith Mistresse then I haue no cause to stay.

¶Hor. But I haue cause to pry into this pedant,

¶Methinkes he lookes as though he were in loue:

¶Yet if thy thoughts Bianca be so humble

¶To cast thy wandring eyes on euery stale:

1385Seize thee that List, if once I finde thee ranging,

¶Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing.

Exit.

¶

Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Katherine, Bianca, and o-

¶_thers, attendants.

¶Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the pointed day

1390That Katherine and Petruchio should be married,

¶And yet we heare not of our sonne in Law:

¶What will be said, what mockery will it be?

¶To want the Bride-groome when the Priest attends

¶To speake the ceremoniall rites of marriage?

1395What saies Lucentio to this shame of ours?

¶Kate. No shame but mine, I must forsooth be forst

¶To giue my hand oppos'd against my heart

¶Vnto a mad-braine rudesby, full of spleene,

¶Who woo'd in haste, and meanes to wed at leysure:

1400I told you I, he was a franticke foole,

¶Hiding his bitter iests in blunt behauiour,

¶And to be noted for a merry man;

¶Hee'll wooe a thousand, point the day of marriage,

¶Make friends, inuite, and proclaime the banes,

1405Yet neuer meanes to wed where he hath woo'd:

¶Now must the world point at poore Katherine,

¶And say, loe, there is mad Petruchio's wife

¶If it would please him come and marry her.

¶Tra. Patience good Katherine and Baptista too,

1410Vpon my life Petruchio meanes but well,

¶What euer fortune stayes him from his word,

¶Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise,

¶Though he be merry, yet withall he's honest.

¶Kate. Would Katherine had neuer seen him though.

1415

Exit weeping.

¶Bap. Goe girle, I cannot blame thee now to weepe,

¶For such an iniurie would vexe a very saint,

¶Much more a shrew of impatient humour.

¶

Enter Biondello.

1420Bion. Master, master, newes, and such newes as you

¶neuer heard of,

¶Bap. Is it new and olde too? how may that be?

¶Bion. Why, is it not newes to heard of Petruchio's

(comming?

¶Bap. Is he come?

1425Bion. Why no sir.

¶Bap. What then?

¶Bion. He is comming.

¶Bap. When will he be heere?

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

1430Tra. But say, what to thine olde newes?

¶Bion. Why Petruchio is comming, in a new hat and

¶an old ierkin, a paire of old breeches thrice turn'd; a

¶paire of bootes that haue beene candle-cases, one buck-

¶led, another lac'd: an olde rusty sword tane out of the

1435Towne Armory, with a broken hilt, and chapelesse: with

¶two broken points: his horse hip'd with an olde mo-

¶thy saddle, and stirrops of no kindred: besides possest

¶with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine, trou-

¶bled with the Lampasse, infected with the fashions, full

1440of Windegalls, sped with Spauins, raied with the Yel-

¶lowes, past cure of the Fiues, starke spoyl'd with the

¶Staggers, begnawne with the Bots, Waid in the backe,

¶and shoulder-shotten, neere leg'd before, and with a

¶halfe-chekt Bitte,& a headstall of sheepes leather, which

1445being restrain'd to keepe him from stumbling, hath been

¶often burst, and now repaired with knots: one girth sixe

¶times peec'd, and a womans Crupper of velure, which

¶hath two letters for her name, fairely set down in studs,

¶and heere and there peec'd with packthred.

1450Bap. Who comes with him?

¶Bion. Oh sir, his Lackey, for all the world Capari-

¶son'd like the horse: with a linnen stock on one leg, and

¶a kersey boot-hose on the other, gartred with a red and

¶blew list; an old hat, & the humor of forty fancies prickt

1455in't for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparell,

¶& not like a Christian foot-boy, or a gentlemans Lacky.

¶Tra. 'Tis some od humor pricks him to this fashion,

¶Yet oftentimes he goes but meane apparel'd.

¶Bap. I am glad he's come, howsoere he comes.

1460Bion. Why sir, he comes not.

¶Bap. Didst thou not say hee comes?

¶Bion. Who, that Petruchio came?

¶Bap. I, that Petruchio came.

¶Bion. No sir, I say his horse comes with him on his

(backe.

1465Bap. Why that's all one.

¶Bion. Nay by S.Iamy, I hold you a penny, a horse and

¶a man is more then one, and yet not many.

¶

Enter Petruchio and Grumio.

¶Pet. Come, where be these gallants? who's at home?

1470Bap. You are welcome sir.

¶Petr. And yet I come not well.

¶Bap. And yet you halt not.

¶Tra. Not so well apparell'd as I wish you were.

¶Petr. Were it better I should rush in thus:

1475But where is Kate? where is my louely Bride?

¶How does my father? gentles methinkes you frowne,

¶And wherefore gaze this goodly company,

¶As if they saw some wondrous monument,

¶Some Commet, or vnusuall prodigie?

1480Bap. Why sir, you know this is your wedding day:

¶First were we sad, fearing you would not come,

¶Now sadder that you come so vnprouided:

¶Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate,

¶An eye-sore to our solemne festiuall.

1485Tra. And tell vs what occasion of import

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

¶And sent you hither so vnlike your selfe?

¶Petr. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to heare,

¶Sufficeth I am come to keepe my word,

1490Though in some part inforced to digresse,

¶Which at more leysure I will so excuse,

¶As you shall well be satisfied with all.

¶But where is Kate? I stay too long from her,

¶The morning weares, 'tis time we were at Church.

1495Tra. See not your Bride in these vnreuerent robes,

¶Goe to my chamber, put on clothes of mine.

¶Pet. Not I, beleeue me, thus Ile visit her.

¶Bap. But thus I trust you will not marry her.

¶Pet. Good sooth euen thus: therefore ha done with

(words,

1500To me she's married, not vnto my cloathes:

¶Could I repaire what she will weare in me,

¶As I can change these poore accoutrements,

¶'Twere well for Kate, and better for my selfe.

¶But what a foole am I to chat with you,

1505When I should bid good morrow to my Bride?

¶And seale the title with a louely kisse.

Exit.

¶Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad attire,

¶We will perswade him be it possible,

¶To put on better ere he goe to Church.

1510Bap. Ile after him, and see the euent of this.

Exit.

¶Tra. But sir, Loue concerneth vs to adde

¶Her fathers liking, which to bring to passe

¶As before imparted to your worship,

¶I am to get a man what ere he be,

1515It skills not much, weele fit him to our turne,

¶And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa,

¶And make assurance heere in Padua

¶Of greater summes then I haue promised,

¶So shall you quietly enioy your hope,

1520And marry sweet Bianca with consent.

¶Luc. Were it not that my fellow schoolemaster

¶Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly:

¶'Twere good me-thinkes to steale our marriage,

¶Which once perform'd, let all the world say no,

1525Ile keepe mine owne despite of all the world.

¶Tra. That by degrees we meane to looke into,

¶And watch our vantage in this businesse,

¶Wee'll ouer-reach the grey-beard Gremio,

¶The narrow prying father Minola,

1530The quaint Musician, amorous Litio,

¶All for my Masters sake Lucentio.

¶

Enter Gremio.

¶Signior Gremio, came you from the Church?

¶Gre. As willingly as ere I came from schoole.

1535Tra. And is the Bride & Bridegroom coming home?

¶Gre. A bridegroome say you? 'tis a groome indeed,

¶A grumlling groome, and that the girle shall finde.

¶Tra. Curster then she, why 'tis impossible.

¶Gre. Why hee's a deuill, a deuill, a very fiend.

1540Tra. Why she's a deuill, a deuill, the deuils damme.

¶Gre. Tut, she's a Lambe, a Doue, a foole to him:

¶Ile tell you sir Lucentio; when the Priest

¶Should aske if Katherine should be his wife,

¶I, by goggs woones quoth he, and swore so loud,

1545That all amaz'd the Priest let fall the booke,

¶And as he stoop'd againe to take it vp,

¶This mad-brain'd bridegroome tooke him such a cuffe,

¶That downe fell Priest and booke, and booke and Priest,

¶Now take them vp quoth he, if any list.

1550Tra. What said the wench when he rose againe?

¶Gre. Trembled and shooke: for why, he stamp'd and

¶swore, as if the Vicar meant to cozen him: but after ma-

¶ny ceremonies done, hee calls for wine, a health quoth

¶he, as if he had beene aboord carowsing to his Mates af-

1555ter a storme, quaft off the Muscadell, and threw the sops

¶all in the Sextons face: hauing no other reason, but that

¶his beard grew thinne and hungerly, and seem'd to aske

¶him sops as hee was drinking: This done, hee tooke the

¶Bride about the necke, and kist her lips with such a cla-

1560morous smacke, that at the parting all the Church did

¶eccho: and I seeing this, came thence for very shame, and

¶after mee I know the rout is comming, such a mad mar-

¶ryage neuer was before: harke, harke, I heare the min-

¶strels play.

Musicke playes.

1565

Enter Petruchio, Kate, Bianca, Hortensio, Baptista.

¶Petr.Gentlemen & friends, I thank you for your pains,

¶I know you thinke to dine with me to day,

¶And haue prepar'd great store of wedding cheere,

¶But so it is, my haste doth call me hence,

1570And therefore heere I meane to take my leaue.

¶Bap. Is't possible you will away to night?

¶Pet. I must away to day before night come,

¶Make it no wonder: if you knew my businesse,

¶You would intreat me rather goe then stay:

1575And honest company, I thanke you all,

¶That haue beheld me giue away my selfe

¶To this most patient, sweet, and vertuous wife,

¶Dine with my father, drinke a health to me,

¶For I must hence, and farewell to you all.

1580Tra. Let vs intreat you stay till after dinner.

¶Pet. It may not be.

¶Gra. Let me intreat you.

¶Pet. It cannot be.

¶Kat. Let me intreat you.

1585Pet. I am content.

¶Kat. Are you content to stay?

¶Pet. I am content you shall entreat me stay,

¶But yet not stay, entreat me how you can.

¶Kat. Now if you loue me stay.

1590Pet. Grumio, my horse.

¶Gru. I sir, they be ready, the Oates haue eaten the

¶horses.

¶Kate. Nay then,

¶Doe what thou canst, I will not goe to day,

1595No, nor to morrow, not till I please my selfe,

¶The dore is open sir, there lies your way,

¶You may be iogging whiles your bootes are greene:

¶For me, Ile not be gone till I please my selfe,

¶'Tis like you'll proue a iolly surly groome,

1600That take it on you at the first so roundly.

¶Pet. O Kate content thee, prethee be not angry.

¶Kat. I will be angry, what hast thou to doe?

¶Father, be quiet, he shall stay my leisure.

¶Gre. I marry sir, now it begins to worke.

1605Kat. Gentlemen, forward to the bridall dinner,

¶I see a woman may be made a foole

¶If she had not a spirit to resist.

¶Pet. They shall goe forward Kate at thy command,

¶Obey the Bride you that attend on her.

1610Goe to the feast, reuell and domineere,

¶Carowse full measure to her maiden-head,

¶Be madde and merry, or goe hang your selues:

¶But for my bonny Kate, she must with me:

¶Nay, looke not big, nor stampe, nor stare, nor fret,

1615I will be master of what is mine owne,

¶Shee is my goods, my chattels, she is my house,

¶My houshold-stuffe, my field, my barne,

¶My horse, my oxe, my asse, my any thing,

¶And heere she stands, touch her who euer dare,

1620Ile bring mine action on the proudest he

¶That stops my way in Padua: Grumio

¶Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with theeues,

¶Rescue thy Mistresse if thou be a man:

¶Feare not sweet wench, they shall not touch thee Kate,

1625Ile buckler thee against a Million.

Exeunt. P. Ka.

¶Bap.Nay, let them goe, a couple of quiet ones.

¶Gre.Went they not quickly, I should die with laugh-

(ing.

¶Tra. Of all mad matches neuer was the like.

¶Luc. Mistresse, what's your opinion of your sister?

1630Bian.That being mad her selfe, she's madly mated.

¶Gre. I warrant him Petruchio is Kated.

¶Bap.Neighbours and friends, though Bride & Bride-

(groom wants

¶For to supply the places at the table,

¶You know there wants no iunkets at the feast:

1635Lucentio, you shall supply the Bridegroomes place,

¶And let Bianca take her sisters roome.

¶Tra. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it?

¶Bap. She shall Lucentio: come gentlemen lets goe.

¶

Enter Grumio.

Exeunt.

1640Gru.: Fie, fie on all tired Iades, on all mad Masters, &

¶all foule waies: was euer man so beaten? was euer man

¶so raide? was euer man so weary? I am sent before to

¶make a fire, and they are comming after to warme them:

¶now were not I a little pot,& soone hot; my very lippes

1645might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roofe of my

¶mouth, my heart in my belly, ere l should come by a fire

¶to thaw me, but I with blowing the fire shall warme my

¶selfe: for considering the weather, a taller man then I

¶will take cold: Holla, hoa (urtis.

1650

Enter Curtis.

¶Curt. Who is that calls so coldly?

¶Gru. A piece of Ice: if thou doubt it, thou maist

¶slide from my shoulder to my heele, with no

¶greater a run but my head and my necke. A fire good

1655Curtis.

¶Cur. Is my master and his wife comming Grumio?

¶Gru. Oh I Curtis I, and therefore fire, fire, cast on no

¶water.

¶Cur. Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported.

1660Gru. She was good Curtis before this frost: but thou

¶know'st winter tames man, woman, and beast: for it

¶hath tam'd my old master, and my new mistris, and my

¶selfe fellow Curtis.

¶Gru. Away you three inch foole, I am no beast.

1665Gru. Am I but three inches? Why thy horne is a foot

¶and so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a fire,

¶or shall I complaine on thee to our mistris, whose hand

¶(she being now at hand) thou shalt soone feele, to thy

¶cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office.

1670Cur. I prethee good Grumio, tell me, how goes the

¶world?

¶Gru. A cold world Curtis in euery office but thine, &

¶therefore fire: do thy duty, and haue thy dutie, for my

¶Master and mistris are almost frozen to death.

1675Cur. There's fire readie, and therefore good Grumio

¶the newes.

¶Gru. Why Iacke boy, ho boy, and as much newes as

¶wilt thou.

¶Cur. Come, you are so full of conicatching.

1680Gru. Why therefore fire, for I haue caught extreme

¶cold. Where's the Cooke, is supper ready, the house

¶trim'd, rushes strew'd, cobwebs swept, the seruingmen

¶in their new fustian, the white stockings, and euery offi-

¶cer his wedding garment on? Be the Iackes faire with-

1685in, the Gils faire without, the Carpets laide, and euerie

¶thing in order?

¶Cur. All readie: and therefore I pray thee newes.

¶Gru. First know my horse is tired, my master & mi-

¶stris falne out._

Cur. How?

1690Gru. Out of their saddles into the durt, and thereby

¶hangs a tale.

¶Cur. Let's ha't good Grumio.

¶Gru. Lend thine eare.

¶Cur. Heere.

1695Gru. There.

¶Cur. This 'tis to feele a tale, not to heare a tale.

¶Gru. And therefore 'tis cal'd a sensible tale: and this

¶Cuffe was but to knocke at your eare, and beseech list-

¶ning: now I begin, Inprimis wee came downe a fowle

1700hill, my Master riding behinde my Mistris.

¶Cur. Both of one horse?

¶Gru. What's that to thee?

¶Cur. Why a horse.

¶Gru. Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not crost me,

1705thou shouldst haue heard how her horse fel, and she vn-

¶der her horse: thou shouldst haue heard in how miery a

¶place, how she was bemoil'd, how hee left her with the

¶horse vpon her, how he beat me because her horse stum-

¶bled, how she waded through the durt to plucke him off

1710me: how he swore, how she prai'd, that neuer prai'd be-

¶fore: how I cried, how the horses ranne away, how her

¶bridle was burst: how I lost my crupper, with manie

¶things of worthy memorie, which now shall die in obli-

¶uion, and thou returne vnexperienc'd to thy graue.

1715Cur. By this reckning he is more shrew than she.

¶Gru. I, and that thou and the proudest of you all shall

¶finde when he comes home. But what talke I of this?

¶Call forth Nathaniel, Ioseph, Nicholas, Phillip, Walter, Su-

¶gersop and the rest: let their heads bee slickely comb'd,

1720their blew coats brush'd, and their garters of an indiffe-

¶rent knit, let them curtsie with their left legges, and not

¶presume to touch a haire of my Masters horse-taile, till

¶they kisse their hands. Are they all readie?

¶Cur. They are.

1725Gru. Call them forth.

¶Cur. Do you heare ho? you must meete my maister

¶to countenance my mistris.

¶Gru. Why she hath a face of her owne.

¶Cur. Who knowes not that?

1730Gru. Thou it seemes, that cals for company to coun-

¶tenance her.

¶Cur. I call them forth to credit her.

¶

Enter foure or fiue seruingmen.

¶Gru. Why she comes to borrow nothing of them.

1735Nat. Welcome home Grumio.

¶Phil. How now Grumio.

¶Ios. What Grumio.

¶Nick. Fellow Grumio.

¶Nat. How now old lad.

1740Gru. Welcome you: how now you: what you: fel-

¶low you: and thus much for greeting. Now my spruce

¶companions, is all readie, and all things neate?

¶Nat. All things is readie, how neere is our master?

¶Gre. E'ne at hand, alighted by this: and therefore be

1745not--- Cockes passion, silence, I heare my master.

¶

Enter Petruchio and Kate.

¶Pet. Where be these knaues? What no man at doore

¶To hold my stirrop, nor to take my horse?

¶Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Phillip.

1750All ser. Heere, heere sir, heere sir.

¶Pet. Heere sir, heere sir, heere sir, heere sir.

¶You logger-headed and vnpollisht groomes:

¶What? no attendance? no regard? no dutie?

¶Where is the foolish knaue I sent before?

1755Gru. Heere sir, as foolish as I was before.

¶Pet. You pezant, swain, you horson malt-horse drudg

¶Did I not bid thee meete me in the Parke,

¶And bring along these rascal knaues with thee?

¶Grumio. Nathaniels coate sir was not fully made,

1760And Gabrels pumpes were all vnpinkt i'th heele:

¶There was no Linke to colour Peters hat,

¶And Walters dagger was not come from sheathing:

¶There were none fine, but Adam, Rafe, and Gregory,

¶The rest were ragged, old, and beggerly,

1765Yet as they are, heere are they come to meete you.

¶Pet. Go rascals, go, and fetch my supper in. Ex. Ser.

¶Where is the life that late I led?

¶Where are those? Sit downe Kate,

¶And welcome. Soud, soud, soud, soud.

1770

Enter seruants with supper.

¶Why when I say? Nay good sweete Kate be merrie.

¶Off with my boots, you rogues: you villaines, when?

¶It was the Friar of Orders gray,

¶As he forth walked on his way.

1775Out you rogue, you plucke my foote awrie,

¶Take that, and mend the plucking of the other.

¶Be merrie Kate: Some water heere: what hoa.

¶

Enter one with water.

¶Where's my Spaniel Troilus? Sirra, get you hence,

1780And bid my cozen Ferdinand come hither:

¶One Kate that you must kisse, and be acquainted with.

¶Where are my Slippers? Shall I haue some water?

¶Come Kate and wash,& welcome heartily:

¶you horson villaine, will you let it fall?

1785Kate. Patience I pray you, 'twas a fault vnwilling.

¶Pet. A horson beetle-headed flap-ear'd knaue:

¶Come Kate sit downe, I know you haue a stomacke,

¶Will you giue thankes, sweete Kate, or else shall I?

¶What's this, Mutton?

17901.Ser. I.

¶Pet. Who brought it?

¶Peter. I.

¶Pet. 'Tis burnt, and so is all the meate:

¶What dogges are these? Where is the rascall Cooke?

1795How durst you villaines bring it from the dresser

¶And serue it thus to me that loue it not?

¶There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all:

¶You heedlesse iolt-heads, and vnmanner'd slaues.

¶What, do you grumble? Ile be with you straight.

1800Kate. I pray you husband be not so disquiet,

¶The meate was well, if you were so contented.

¶Pet. I tell thee Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away,

¶And I expressely am forbid to touch it:

¶For it engenders choller, planteth anger,

1805And better 'twere that both of vs did fast,

¶Since of our selues, our selues are chollericke,

¶Then feede it with such ouer-rosted flesh:

¶Be patient, to morrow't shalbe mended,

¶And for this night we'l fast for companie.

1810Come I wil bring thee to thy Bridall chamber.

Exeunt.

¶

Enter Seruants seuerally.

¶Nath. Peter didst euer see the like.

¶Peter. He kils her in her owne humor.

¶Grumio. Where is he?

1815

Enter Curtis a Seruant.

¶Cur. In her chamber, making a sermon of continen-

¶cie to her, and railes, and sweares, and rates, that shee

¶(poore soule) knowes not which way to stand, to looke,

¶to speake, and sits as one new risen from a dreame. A-

1820way, away, for he is comming hither.

¶

Enter Petruchio.

¶Pet. Thus haue I politickely begun my reigne,

¶And 'tis my hope to end successefully:

¶My Faulcon now is sharpe, and passing emptie,

1825And til she stoope, she must not be full gorg'd,

¶For then she neuer lookes vpon her lure.

¶Another way I haue to man my Haggard,

¶To make her come, and know her Keepers call:

¶That is, to watch her, as we watch these Kites,

1830That baite, and beate, and will not be obedient:

¶She eate no meate to day, nor none shall eate.

¶Last night she slept not, nor to night she shall not:

¶As with the meate, some vndeserued fault

¶Ile finde about the making of the bed,

1835And heere Ile fling the pillow, there the boulster,

¶This way the Couerlet, another way the sheets:

¶I, and amid this hurlie I intend,

¶That all is done in reuerend care of her,

¶And in conclusion, she shal watch all night,

1840And if she chance to nod, Ile raile and brawle,

¶And with the clamor keepe her stil awake:

¶This is a way to kil a Wife with kindnesse,

¶And thus Ile curbe her mad and headstrong humor:

¶He that knowes better how to tame a shrew,

1845Now let him speake, 'tis charity to shew.

Exit

¶

Enter Tranio and Hortensio.

¶Tra. Is't possible friend Lisio, that mistris Bianca

¶Doth fancie any other but Lucentio,

¶I tel you sir, she beares me faire in hand.

1850Luc. Sir, to satisfie you in what I haue said,

¶Stand by, and marke the manner of his teaching.

¶

Enter Bianca.

¶Hor. Now Mistris, profit you in what you reade?

¶Bian. What Master reade you first, resolue me that?

1855Hor. I reade, that I professe the Art to loue.

¶Bian And may you proue sir Master of your Art.

¶Luc. While you sweet deere ptoue Mistresse of my

¶heart.

¶Hor. Quicke proceeders marry, now tel me I pray,

1860you that durst sweare that your Mistris Bianca

¶Lou'd me in the World so wel as Lucentio.

¶Tra. Oh despightful Loue, vnconstant womankind,

¶I tel thee Lisio this is wonderfull.

¶Hor. Mistake no more, I am not Lisio,

1865Nor a Musitian as I seeme to bee,

¶But one that scorne to liue in this disguise,

¶For such a one as leaues a Gentleman,

¶And makes a God of such a Cullion;

¶Know sir, that I am cal'd Hortensio.

1870Tra. Signior Hortensio, I haue often heard

¶Of your entire affection to Bianca,

¶And since mine eyes are witnesse of her lightnesse,

¶I wil with you, if you be so contented,

¶Forsweare Bianca, and her loue for euer.

1875Hor. See how they kisse and court: Signior Lucentio,

¶Heere is my hand, and heere I firmly vow

¶Neuer to woo her more, but do forsweare her

¶As one vnworthie all the former fauours

¶That I haue fondly flatter'd them withall.

1880Tra. And heere I take the like vnfained oath,

¶Neuer to marrie with her, though she would intreate,

¶Fie on her, see how beastly she doth court him.

¶Hor. Would all the world but he had quite forsworn

¶For me, that I may surely keepe mine oath.

1885I wil be married to a wealthy Widdow,

¶Ere three dayes passe, which hath as long lou'd me,

¶As I haue lou'd this proud disdainful Haggard,

¶And so farewel signior Lucentio,

¶Kindnesse in women, not their beauteous lookes

1890Shal win my loue, and so I take my leaue,

¶In resolution, as I swore before.

¶Tra. Mistris Bianca, blesse you with such grace,

¶As longeth to a Louers blessed case:

¶Nay, I haue tane you napping gentle Loue,

1895And haue forsworne you with Hortensio.

¶Bian. Tranio you iest, but haue you both forsworne

¶mee?

¶Tra. Mistris we haue.

¶Luc. Then we are rid of Lisio.

1900Tra. I'faith hee'l haue a lustie Widdow now,

¶That shalbe woo'd, and wedded in a day.

¶Bian. God giue him ioy.

¶Tra. I, and hee'l tame her.

¶Bianca. He sayes so Tranio.

1905Tra. Faith he is gone vnto the taming schoole.

¶Bian. The taming schoole: what is there such a place?

¶Tra. I mistris, and Petruchio is the master,

¶That teacheth trickes eleuen and twentie long,

¶To tame a shrew, and charme her chattering tongue.

1910

Enter Biondello.

¶Bion. Oh Master, master I haue watcht so long,

¶That I am dogge-wearie, but at last I spied

¶An ancient Angel comming downe the hill,

¶Wil serue the turne.

1915Tra. What is he Biondello?

¶Bio. Master, a Marcantant, or a pedant,

¶I know not what, but formall in apparrell,

¶In gate and countenance surely like a Father.

¶Luc. And what of him Tranio?

1920Tra. If he be credulous, and trust my tale,

¶Ile make him glad to seeme Vincentio,

¶And giue assurance to Baptista Minola.

¶As if he were the right Uincentio.

¶Par. Take me your loue, and then let me alone.

1925

Enter a Pedant.

¶Ped. God saue you sir.

¶Tra. And you sir, you are welcome,

¶Trauaile you farre on, or are you at the farthest?

¶Ped. Sir at the farthest for a weeke or two,

1930But then vp farther, and as farre as Rome,

¶And so to Tripolie, if God lend me life.

¶Tra. What Countreyman I pray?

¶Ped. Of Mantua.

¶Tra. Of Mantua Sir, marrie God forbid,

1935And come to Padua carelesse of your life.

¶Ped. My life sir? how I pray? for that goes hard.

¶Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua

¶To come to Padua, know you not the cause?

¶Your ships are staid at Venice, and the Duke

1940For priuate quarrel 'twixt your Duke and him,

¶Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly:

¶'Tis meruaile, but that you are but newly come,

¶you might haue heard it else proclaim'd about.

¶Ped. Alas sir, it is worse for me then so,

1945For I haue bils for monie by exchange

¶From Florence, and must heere deliuer them.

¶Tra. Wel sir, to do you courtesie,

¶This wil I do, and this I wil aduise you.

¶First tell me, haue you euer beene at Pisa?

1950Ped. I sir, in Pisa haue I often bin,

¶Pisa renowned for graue Citizens.

¶Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio?

¶Ped. I know him not, but I haue heard of him:

¶A Merchant of incomparable wealth.

1955Tra. He is my father sir, and sooth to say,

¶In count'nance somewhat doth resemble you.

¶Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, & all one.

¶Tra. To saue your life in this extremitie,

¶This fauor wil I do you for his sake,

1960And thinke it not the worst of all your fortunes,

¶That you are like to Sir Vincentio.

¶His name and credite shal you vndertake,

¶And in my house you shal be friendly lodg'd,

¶Looke that you take vpon you as you should,

1965you vnderstand me sir: so shal you stay

¶Til you haue done your businesse in the Citie:

¶If this be court'sie sir, accept of it.

¶Ped. Oh sir I do, and wil repute you euer

¶The patron of my life and libertie.

1970Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter good,

¶This by the way I let you vnderstand,

¶My father is heere look'd for euerie day,

¶To passe assurance of a dowre in marriage

¶'Twixt me, and one Baptistas daughter heere:

1975In all these circumstances Ile instruct you,

¶Go with me to cloath you as becomes you.

Exeunt.

¶

Enter Katherina and Grumio.

¶Gru. No, no forsooth I dare not for my life.

1980Ka. The more my wrong, the more his spite appears.

¶What, did he marrie me to famish me?

¶Beggers that come vnto my fathers doore,

¶Vpon intreatie haue a present almes,

¶If not, elsewhere they meete with charitie:

1985But I, who neuer knew how to intreat,

¶Nor neuer needed that I should intreate,

¶Am staru'd for meate, giddie for lacke of sleepe:

¶With oathes kept waking, and with brawling fed,

¶And that which spights me more then all these wants,

1990He does it vnder name of perfect loue:

¶As who should say. if I should sleepe or eate

¶'Twere deadly sicknesse, or else present death.

¶I prethee go, aud get me some repast,

¶I care not what, so it be holsome foode.

1995Gru. What say you to a Neats foote?

¶Kate. 'Tis passing good, I prethee let me haue it.

¶Gru. I feare it is too chollericke a meate.

¶How say you to a fat Tripe finely broyl'd?

¶Kate. I like it well, good Grumio fetch it me.

2000Gru. I cannot tell, I feare 'tis chollericke.

¶What say you to a peece of Beefe and Mustard?

¶Kate. A dish that I do loue to feede vpon.

¶Gru. I, but the Mustard is too hot a little.

¶Kate. Why then the Beefe, and let the Mustard rest.

2005Gru. Nay then I wil not, you shal haue the Mustard

¶Or else you get no beefe of Grumio.

¶Kate. Then both or one, or any thing thou wilt.

¶Gru. Why then the Mustard without the beefe.

¶Kate. Go get thee gone, thou false deluding slaue,

2010

Beats him.

¶That feed'st me with the verie name of meate.

¶Sorrow on thee, and all the packe of you

¶That triumph thus vpon my misery:

¶Go get thee gone, I say.

2015

Enter Petruchio, and Hortensio with meate.

¶Petr. How fares my Kate, what sweeting all a-mort?

¶

Hor. Mistris, what cheere?

¶Kate. Faith as cold as can be.

¶Pet. Plucke vp thy spirits, looke cheerfully vpon me.

2020Heere Loue, thou seest how diligent I am,

¶To dresse thy meate my selfe, and bring it thee.

¶I am sure sweet Kate, this kindnesse merites thankes.

¶What, not a word? Nay then, thou lou'st it not:

¶And all my paines is sorted to no proofe.

2025Heere take away this dish.

¶Kate. I pray you let it stand.

¶Pet. The poorest seruice is repaide with thankes,

¶And so shall mine before you touch the meate.

¶Kate. I thanke you sir.

2030Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie you are too blame:

¶Come Mistris Kate, Ile beare you companie.

¶Petr. Eate it vp all Hortensio, if thou louest mee:

¶Much good do it vnto thy gentle heart:

¶Kate eate apace; and now my honie Loue,

2035Will we returne vnto thy Fathers house,

¶And reuell it as brauely as the best,

¶With silken coats and caps, and golden Rings,

¶With Ruffes and Cuffes, and Fardingales, and things:

¶With Scarfes, and Fannes, & double change of brau'ry,

2040With Amber Bracelets, Beades, and all this knau'ry.

¶What hast thou din'd? The Tailor staies thy leasure,

¶To decke thy bodie with his ruffling treasure.

¶

Enter Tailor.

¶Come Tailor, let vs see these ornaments.

2045

Enter Haberdasher.

¶Lay forth the gowne. What newes with you sir?

¶Fel. Heere is the cap your Worship did bespeake.

¶Pet. Why this was moulded on a porrenger,

¶A Veluet dish: Fie, fie, 'tis lewd and filthy,

2050Why 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell,

¶A knacke, a toy, a tricke, a babies cap:

¶Away with it, come let me haue a bigger.

¶Kate. Ile haue no bigger, this doth fit the time,

¶And Gentlewomen weare such caps as these.

2055Pet. When you are gentle, you shall haue one too,

¶And not till then.

¶Hor. That will not be in hast.

¶Kate. Why sir I trust I may haue leaue to speake,

¶And speake I will. I am no childe, no babe,

2060Your betters haue indur'd me say my minde,

¶And If you cannot, best you stop your eares.

¶My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,

¶Or els my heart concealing it wil breake,

¶And rather then it shall, I will be free,

2065Euen to the vttermost as I please in words.

¶Pet. Why thou saist true, it is paltrie cap,

¶A custard coffen, a bauble, a silken pie,

¶I loue thee well in that thou lik'st it not.

¶Kate. Loue me, or loue me not, I like the cap,

2070And it I will haue, or I will haue none.

¶Pet. Thy gowne, why I: come Tailor let vs see't.

¶Oh mercie God, what masking stuffe is heere?

¶Whats this? a sleeue? 'tis like demi cannon,

¶What, vp and downe caru'd like an apple Tart?

2075Heers snip, and nip, and cut, and slish and slash,

¶Like to a Censor in a barbers shoppe:

¶Why what a deuils name Tailor cal'st thou this?

¶Hor. I see shees like to haue neither cap nor gowne.

¶Tai. You bid me make it orderlie and well,

2080According to the fashion, and the time.

¶Pet. Marrie and did: but if you be remembred,

¶I did not bid you marre it to the time.

¶Go hop me ouer euery kennell home,

¶For you shall hop without my custome sir:

2085Ile none of it; hence, make your best of it.

¶Kate. I neuer saw a better fashion'd gowne,

¶More queint, more pleasing, nor more commendable:

¶Belike you meane to make a puppet of me.

¶Pet. Why true, he meanes to make a puppet of thee.

2090Tail. She saies your Worship meanes to make a

¶puppet of her.

¶Pet. Oh monstrous arrogance:

¶Thou lyest, thou thred, thou thimble,

¶Thou yard three quarters, halfe yard, quarter, naile,

2095Thou Flea, thou Nit, thou winter cricket thou:

¶Brau'd in mine owne house with a skeine of thred:

¶Away thou Ragge, thou quantitie, thou remnant,

¶Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard,

¶As thou shalt thinke on prating whil'st thou liu'st:

2100I tell thee I, that thou hast marr'd her gowne.

¶Tail. Your worship is deceiu'd, the gowne is made

¶Iust as my master had direction:

¶Grumio gaue order how it should be done.

¶Gru. I gaue him no order, I gaue him the stuffe.

2105Tail. But how did you desire it should be made?

¶Gru. Marrie sir with needle and thred.

¶Tail. But did you not request to haue it cut?

¶Gru. Thou hast fac'd many things.

¶Tail. I haue.

2110Gru. Face not mee: thou hast brau'd manie men,

¶braue not me; I will neither bee fac'd nor brau'd. I say

¶vnto thee, I bid thy Master cut out the gowne, but I did

¶not bid him cut it to peeces. Ergo thou liest.

¶Tail. Why heere is the note of the fashion to testify.

2115Pet. Reade it.

¶Gru. The note lies in's throate if he say I said so.

¶Tail. Inprimis, a loose bodied gowne.

¶Gru. Master, if euer I said loose-bodied gowne, sow

¶me in the skirts of it, and beate me to death with a bot-

2120tome of browne thred: I said a gowne.

¶Pet. Proceede.

¶Tai. With a small compast cape.

¶Gru. I confesse the cape.

¶Tai. With a trunke sleeue.

2125Gru. I confesse two sleeues.

¶Tai: The sleeues curiously cut.

¶Pet. I there's the villanie.

¶Gru. Error i'th bill sir, error i'th bill? I commanded

¶the sleeues should be cut out, and sow'd vp againe, and

2130that Ile proue vpon thee, though thy little finger be ar-

¶med in a thimble.

¶Tail. This is true that I say, and I had thee in place

¶where thou shouldst know it.

¶Gru. I am for thee straight: take thou the bill, giue

2135me thy meat-yard, and spare not me.

¶Hor. God-a-mercie Grumio, then hee shall haue no

¶oddes.

¶Pet. Well sir in breefe the gowne is not for me.

¶Gru. You are i'th right sir, 'tis for my mistris.

2140Pet. Go take it vp vnto thy masters vse.

¶Gru. Villaine, not for thy life: Take vp my Mistresse

¶gowne for thy masters vse.

¶Pet. Why sir, what's your conceit in that?

¶Gru. Oh sir, the conceit is deeper then you think for:

2145Take vp my Mistris gowne to his masters vse.

¶Oh fie, fie, fie.

¶Pet. Hortensio, say thou wilt see the Tailor paide:

¶Go take it hence, be gone, and say no more.

¶Hor. Tailor, Ile pay thee for thy gowne to morrow,

2150Take no vnkindnesse of his hastie words:

¶Away I say, commend me to thy master.

Exit Tail.

¶Pet. Well, come my Kate, we will vnto your fathers,

¶Euen in these honest meane habiliments:

¶Our purses shall be proud, our garments poore:

2155For 'tis the minde that makes the bodie rich.

¶And as the Sunne breakes through the darkest clouds,

¶So honor peereth in the meanest habit.

¶What is the Iay more precious then the Larke?

¶Because his feathers are more beautifull.

2160Or is the Adder better then the Eele,

¶Because his painted skin contents the eye.

¶Oh no good Kate: neither art thou the worse

¶For this poore furniture, and meane array.

¶If thou accountedst it shame, lay it on me,

2165And therefore frolicke, we will hence forthwith,

¶To feast and sport vs at thy fathers house,

¶Go call my men, and let vs straight to him,

¶And bring our horses vnto Long-lane end,

¶There wil we mount, and thither walke on foote,

2170Let's see, I thinke 'tis now some seuen a clocke,

¶And well we may come there by dinner time.

¶Kate. I dare assure you sir, 'tis almost two,

¶And 'twill be supper time ere you come there.

¶Pet. It shall be seuen ere I go to horse:

2175Looke what I speake, or do, or thinke to doe,

¶You are still crossing it, sirs let't alone,

¶I will not goe to day, and ere I doe,

¶It shall be what a clock I say it is.

¶Hor. Why so this gallant will command the sunne.

2180

Enter Tranio, and the Pedant drest like Vincentio.

¶Tra. Sirs, this is the house, please it you that I call.

¶Ped. I what else, and but I be deceiued,

¶Signior Baptista may remember me

¶Neere twentie yeares a goe in Genoa.

2185Tra. Where we were lodgers, at the Pegasus,

¶Tis well, and hold your owne in any case

¶With such austeritie as longeth to a father.

¶

Enter Biondello.

¶Ped. I warrant you: but sir here comes your boy,

2190'Twere good he were school'd.

¶Tra. Feare you not him: sirra Biondello,

¶Now doe your dutie throughlie I aduise you:

¶Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio.

¶Bion. Tut, feare not me.

2195Tra. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista.

¶Bion. I told him that your father was at Venice,

¶And that you look't for him this day in Padua.

¶Tra. Th'art a tall fellow, hold thee that to drinke,

¶Here comes Baptista: set your countenance sir.

2200

Enter Baptista and Lucentio: Pedant booted

¶

and bare headed.

¶Tra. Signior Baptista you are happilie met:

¶Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of,

¶I pray you stand good father to me now,

2205Giue me Bianca for my patrimony.

¶Ped. Soft son: sir by your leaue, hauing com to Padua

¶To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio

¶Made me acquainted with a waighty cause

¶Of loue betweene your daughter and himselfe:

2210And for the good report I heare of you,

¶And for the loue he beareth to your daughter,

¶And she to him: to stay him not too long,

¶I am content in a good fathers care

¶To haue him matcht, and if you please to like

2215No worse then I, vpon some agreement

¶Me shall you finde readie and willing

¶With one consent to haue her so bestowed:

¶For curious I cannot be with you

¶Signior Baptista, of whom I heare so well.

2220Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I haue to say,

¶Your plainnesse and your shortnesse please me well:

¶Right true it is your sonne Lucentio here

¶Doth loue my daughter, and she loueth him,

¶Or both dissemble deepely their affections:

2225And therefore if you say no more then this,

¶That like a Father you will deale with him,

¶And passe my daughter a sufficient dower,

¶The match is made, and all is done,

¶Your sonne shall haue my daughter with consent.

2230Tra. I thanke you sir, where then doe you know best

¶We be affied and such assurance tane,

¶As shall with either parts agreement stand.

¶Bap. Not in my house Lucentio, for you know

¶Pitchers haue eares, and I haue manie seruants,

2235Besides old Gremio is harkning still,

¶And happilie we might be interrupted.

¶Tra. Then at my lodging, and it like you,

¶There doth my father lie: and there this night

¶Weele passe the businesse priuately and well:

2240Send for your daughter by your seruant here,

¶My Boy shall fetch the Scriuener presentlie,

¶The worst is this that at so slender warning,

¶You are like to haue a thin and slender pittance.

¶Bap. It likes me well:

2245Cambio hie you home, and bid Bianca make her readie

¶ straight:

¶And if you will tell what hath hapned,

¶Lucentios Father is arriued in Padua,

¶And how she's like to be Lucentios wife.

2250Biond. I praie the gods she may withall my heart.

¶

Exit.

¶Tran. Dallie not with the gods, but get thee gone.

¶

Enter Peter.

¶Signior Baptista, shall I leade the way,

2255Welcome, one messe is like to be your cheere,

¶Come sir, we will better it in Pisa.

¶Bap. I follow you.

Exeunt.

¶

Enter Lucentio and Biondello.

¶Bion. Cambio.

2260Luc. What saist thou Biondello.

¶Biond. You saw my Master winke and laugh vpon

¶you?

¶Luc. Biondello, what of that?

¶Biond. Faith nothing: but has left mee here behinde

2265to expound the meaning or morrall of his signes and to-

¶kens.

¶Luc. I pray thee moralize them.

¶Biond. Then thus: Baptista is safe talking with the

¶deceiuing Father of a deceitfull sonne.

2270Luc. And what of him?

¶Biond. His daughter is to be brought by you to the

¶supper.

¶Luc. And then.

¶Bio. The old Priest at Saint Lukes Church is at your

2275command at all houres.

¶Luc. And what of all this.

¶Bion. I cannot tell, expect they are busied about a

¶counterfeit assurance: take you assurance of her, Cum

¶preuilegio ad Impremendum solem, to th' Church take the

2280Priest, Clarke, and some sufficient honest witnesses:

¶If this be not that you looke fot, I haue no more to say,

¶But bid Bianca farewell for euer and a day.

¶Luc. Hear'st thou Biondello.

¶Biond. I cannot tarry: I knew a wench maried in an

2285afternoone as shee went to the Garden for Parseley to

¶stuffe a Rabit, and so may you sir: and so adew sir, my

¶Master hath appointed me to goe to Saint Lukes to bid

¶the Priest be readie to come against you come with your

¶appendix.

Exit.

2290Luc. I may and will, if she be so contented:

¶She will be pleas'd, then wherefore should I doubt:

¶Hap what hap may, Ile roundly goe about her:

¶It shall goe hard if Cambio goe without her.

Exit.

¶

Enter Petruchio, Kate, Hortentio

2295Petr. Come on a Gods name, once more toward our

¶ fathers:

¶Good Lord how bright and goodly shines the Moone.

¶Kate. The Moone, the Sunne: it is not Moonelight

¶ now.

2300Pet. I say it is the Moone that shines so bright.

¶Kate. I know it is the Sunne that shines so bright.

¶Pet. Now by my mothers sonne, and that's my selfe,

¶It shall be moone, or starre, or what I list,

¶Or ere I iourney to your Fathers house:

2305Goe on, and fetch our horses backe againe,

¶Euermore crost and crost, nothing but crost.

¶Hort. Say as he saies, or we shall neuer goe.

¶Kate. Forward I pray, since we haue come so farre,

¶And be it moone, or sunne, or what you please:

2310And if you please to call it a rush Candle,

¶Henceforth I vowe it shall be so for me.

¶Petr. I say it is the Moone.

¶Kate. I know it is the Moone.

¶Petr. Nay then you lye: it is the blessed Sunne.

2315Kate. Then God be blest, it in the blessed sun,

¶But sunne it is not, when you say it is not,

¶And the Moone changes euen as your minde:

¶What you will haue it nam'd, euen that it is,

¶And so it shall be so for Katherine.

2320Hort. Petruchio, goe thy waies, the field is won.

¶Petr. Well, forward, forward, thus the bowle should

(run,

¶And not vnluckily against the Bias:

¶But soft, Company is comming here.

¶

Enter Vincentio.

2325Good morrow gentle Mistris, where away:

¶Tell me sweete Kate, and tell me truely too,

¶Hast thou beheld a fresher Gentlewoman:

¶Such warre of white and red within her cheekes:

¶What stars do spangle heauen with such beautie,

2330As those two eyes become that heauenly face?

¶Faire louely Maide, once more good day to thee:

¶Sweete Kate embrace her for her beauties sake.

¶Hort. A will make the man mad to make the woman

¶ of him.

2335Kate. Yong budding Virgin, faire, and fresh,& sweet,

¶Whether away, or whether is thy aboade?

¶Happy the Parents of so faire a childe;

¶Happier the man whom fauourable stars

¶A lots thee for his louely bedfellow.

2340Petr. Why how now Kate, I hope thou art not mad,

¶This is a man old, wrinckled, faded, withered,

¶And not a Maiden, as thou saist he is.

¶Kate. Pardon old father my mistaking eies,

¶That haue bin so bedazled with the sunne,

2345That euery thing I looke on seemeth greene:

¶Now I p erceiue thou art a reuerent Father:

¶Pardon I pray thee for my mad mistaking.

¶Petr. Do good old grandsire, & withall make known

¶Which way thou trauellest, if along with vs,

2350We shall be ioyfull of thy companie.

¶Vin. Faire Sir, and you my merry Mistris,

¶That with your strange encounter much amasde me:

¶My name is call'd Vincentio, my dwelling Pisa,

¶And bound I am to Padua, there to visite

2355A sonne of mine, which long I haue not seene.

¶Petr. What is his name?

¶Vinc. Lucentio gentle sir.

¶Petr. Happily met, the happier for thy sonne:

¶And now by Law, as well as reuerent age,

2360I may intitle thee my louing Father,

¶The sister to my wife, this Gentlewoman,

¶Thy Sonne by this hath married: wonder not,

¶Nor be not grieued, she is of good esteeme,

¶Her dowrie wealthie, and of worthie birth;

2365Beside, so qualified, as may beseeme

¶The Spouse of any noble Gentleman:

¶Let me imbrace with old Vincentio,

¶And wander we to see thy honest sonne,

¶Who will of thy arriuall be full ioyous.

2370Vinc. But is this true, or is it else your pleasure,

¶Like pleasant trauailors to breake a Iest

¶Vpon the companie you ouertake?

¶Hort. I doe assure thee father so it is.

¶Petr. Come goe along and see the truth hereof,

2375For our first merriment hath made thee iealous.

Exeunt.

¶Hor. Well Petruchio, this has put me in heart;

¶Haue to my Widdow, and if she froward,

¶Then hast thou taught Hortentio to be vntoward.

Exit.

¶

Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianea, Gremio

2380is out before.

¶Biond. Softly and swiftly sir, for the Priest is ready.

¶Luc. I flie Biondello; but they may chance to neede

¶thee at home, therefore leaue vs.

Exit.

¶Biond. Nay faith, Ile see the Church a your backe,

2385and then come backe to my mistris as soone as I can.

¶Gre. I maruaile Cambio comes not all this while.

¶

Enter Petruchio, Kate, Vincentio, Grumio

¶with Attendants.

¶Petr. Sir heres the doore, this is Lucentios house,

2390My Fathers beares more toward the Market-place,

¶Thither must I, and here I leaue you sir.

¶Vin. You shall not choose but drinke before you go,

¶I thinke I shall command your welcome here;

¶And by all likelihood some cheere is toward.

Knock.

2395Grem. They're busie within, you were best knocke

¶lowder.

¶

Pedant lookes out of the window.

¶Ped What's he that knockes as he would beat downe

¶the gate?

2400Vin. Is Signior Lucentio within sir?

¶Ped. He's within sir, but not to be spoken withall.

¶Vinc. What if a man bring him a hundred pound or

¶two to make merrie withall.

¶Ped. Keepe your hundred pounds to your selfe, hee

2405shall neede none so long as I liue.

¶Petr. Nay, I told you your sonne was well beloued in

¶Padua: doe you heare sir, to leaue friuolous circumstan-

¶ces, I pray you tell signior Lucentio that his Father is

¶come from Pisa, and is here at the doore to speake with

2410him.

¶Ped. Thou liest his Father is come from Padua, and

¶here looking out at the window.

¶Vin. Art thou his father?

¶Ped. I sir, so his mother saies, if I may beleeue her.

2415Petr. Why how now gentleman: why this is flat kna-

¶uerie to take vpon you another mans name.

¶Peda. Lay hands on the villaine, I beleeue a meanes

¶to cosen some bodie in this Citie vnder my countenance.

¶

Enter Biondello.

2420Bio. I haue seene them in the Church together, God

¶send'em good shipping: but who is here? mine old Ma-

¶ster Uincentio: now wee are vndone and brought to no-

¶thing.

¶Uin. Come hither crackhempe.

2425Bion. I hope I may choose Sir.

¶Vin. Come hither you rogue, what haue you forgot

¶mee?

¶Biond. Forgot you, no sir: I could not forget you, for

¶I neuer saw you before in all my life.

2430Uinc. What, you notorious villaine, didst thou neuer

¶see thy Mistris father, Vincentio?

¶Bion. What my old worshipfull old master? yes

¶marie sir see where he lookes out of the window.

¶Uin. Ist so indeede. He beates Biondello.

2435Bion. Helpe, helpe, helpe, here's a mad man will mur-

¶der me.

¶Pedan. Helpe, sonne, helpe signior Baptista.

¶Petr. Pree the Kate let's stand aside and see the end of

¶this controuersie.

2440

Enter Pedant with seruants, Baptista, Tranio.

¶Tra. Sir, what are you that offer to beate my ser-

¶uant?

¶Vinc. What am I sir: nay what are you sir: oh immor-

¶tall Goddes: oh fine villaine, a silken doublet, a vel-

2445uet hose, a scarlet cloake, and a copataine hat: oh I am

¶vndone, I am vndone: while I plaie the good husband

¶at home, my sonne and my seruant spend all at the vni-

¶uersitie.

¶Tra. How now, what's the matter?

2450Bapt. What is the man lunaticke?

¶Tra. Sir, you seeme a sober ancient Gentleman by

¶your habit: but your words shew you a mad man: why

¶sir, what cernes it you, if I weare Pearle and gold: I thank

¶my good Father, I am able to maintaine it.

2455Vin. Thy father: oh villaine, he is a Saile-maker in

¶Bergamo.

¶Bap. You mistake sir, you mistake sir, praie what do

¶you thinke is his name?

¶Vin. His name, as if I knew not his name: I haue

2460brought him vp euer since he was three yeeres old, and

¶his name is Tronio.

¶Ped. Awaie, awaie mad asse, his name is Lucentio, and

¶he is mine onelie sonne and heire to the Lands of me sig-

¶nior Vincentio.

2465Ven. Lucentio: oh he hath murdred his Master; laie

¶hold on him I charge you in the Dukes name: oh my

¶sonne, my sonne: tell me thou villaine, where is my son

¶Lucentio?

¶Tra. Call forth an officer: Carrie this mad knaue to

2470the Iaile: father Baptista, I charge you see that hee be

¶forth comming.

¶Vinc. Carrie me to the Iaile?

¶Gre. Staie officer, he shall not go to prison.

¶Bap. Talke not signior Gremio: I saie he shall goe to

2475prison.

¶Gre. Take heede signior Baptista, least you be coni-

¶catcht in this businesse: I dare sweare this is the right

¶Vincentio.

¶Ped. Sweare if thou dar'st.

2480Gre. Naie, I dare not sweare it.

¶Tran. Then thou wert best saie that I am not Lu-

¶centio.

¶Gre. Yes, I know thee to be signior Lucentio.

¶Bap. Awaie with the dotard, to the Iaile with him.

2485

Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianeu.

¶Vin. Thus strangers may be haild and abusd: oh mon-

¶strous villaine.

¶Bion. Oh we are spoil'd, and yonder he is, denie him,

¶forsweare him, or else we are all vndone.

2490

Exit Biondello, Tranio and Pedant as fast as may be.

¶Luc. Pardon sweete father.

Kneele.

¶Vin. Liues my sweete sonne?

¶Bian. Pardon deere father.

¶Bap. How hast thou offended, where is Lucentio?

2495Luc. Here's Lucentio, right sonne to the right Uin-

¶ centio,

¶That haue by marriage made thy daughter mine,

¶While counterfeit supposes bleer'd thine eine.

¶Gre. Here's packing with a witnesse to deceiue vs all.

2500Vin. Where is that damned villaine Tranio,

¶That fac'd and braued me in this matter so?

¶Bup. Why, tell me is not this my Cambio?

¶Bian. Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio.

¶Luc. Loue wrought these miracles. Biancas loue

2505Made me exchange my state with Tranio,

¶While he did beare my countenance in the towne,

¶And happilie I haue arriued at the last

¶Vnto the wished hauen of my blisse:

¶What Tranio did, my selfe enforst him to;

2510Then pardon him sweete Father for my sake.

¶Uin. Ile slit the villaines nose that would haue sent

¶me to the Iaile.

¶Bap. But doe you heare sir, haue you married my

¶daughter without asking my good will?

2515Vin. Feare not Baptista, we will content you, goe to:

¶but I will in to be reueng'd for this villanie.

Exit.

¶Bap. And I to sound the depth of this knauerie. Exit.

¶Luc. Looke not pale Bianca, thy father will not frown.

¶

Exeunt.

2520Gre. My cake is dough, hbut Ile in among the rest,

¶Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast.

¶Kate.Husband let's follow, to see the end of this adoe.

¶Petr. First kisse me Kate, and we will.

¶Kate. What in the midst of the streete?

2525Petr. What art thou asham'd of me?

¶Kate. Mo sir, God forbid, but asham'd to kisse.

¶Petr. Why then let's home againe: Come Sirra let's

¶awaie.

¶Kate. Nay, I will giue thee a kisse, now praie thee

2530Loue staie.

¶Petr. Is not this well? come my sweete Kate.

¶Better once then neuer, for neuer to late.

Exeunt.

¶

Enter Baptista, Vincentio, Gremio, the Pedant, Lucentio, and

2535

Bianca. Tranio, Biondello Grumio, and Widdow:

¶

The Seruingmen with Tranio bringing

¶in a Banquet.

¶Luc. At last, though long, our iarring notes agree,

¶And time it is when raging warre is come,

2540To smile at scapes and perils ouerblowne:

¶My faire Bianca bid my father welcome,

¶While I with selfesame kindnesse welcome thine:

¶Brother Petruchio, sister Katerina,

¶And thou Hortentio with thy louing Widdow:

2545Feast with the best, and welcome to my house,

¶My Banket is to close our stomakes vp

¶After our great good cheere: praie you sit downe,

¶For now we sit to chat as well as eate.

¶Petr. Nothing but sit and sit, and eate and eate.

2550Bap. Padua affords this kindnesse, sonne Petruchio.

¶Petr. Padua affords nothing but what is kinde.

¶Hor. For both our sakes I would that word were true.

¶Pet. Now for my life Hortentio feares his Widow.

¶Wid. Then neuer trust me if I be affeard.

2555Petr. You are verie sencible, and yet you misse my

¶ sence:

¶I meane Hortentio is afeard of you.

¶Wid. He that is giddie thinks the world turns round.

¶Petr. Roundlie replied.

2560Kat. Mistris, how meane you that?

¶Wid. Thus I conceiue by him.

¶Petr. Conceiues by me, how likes Hortentio that?

¶Hor. My Widdow saies, thus she conceiues her tale.

¶Petr. Verie well mended: kisse him for that good

2565 Widdow.

¶Kat.He that is giddie thinkes the world turnes round,

¶I praie you tell me what you meant by that.

¶Wid. Your housband being troubled with a shrew,

¶Measures my husbands sorrow by his woe:

2570And now you know my meaning.

¶Kate. A verie meane meaning.

¶Wid. Right, I meane you.

¶Kat. And I am meane indeede, respecting you.

¶Petr. To her Kate.

2575Hor. To her Widdow.

¶Petr. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down.

¶Hor. That's my office

¶Petr. Spoke like an Officer: ha to the lad.

¶

Drinkes to Hortentio.

2580Bap. How likes Gremio these quicke witted folkes?

¶Gre. Beleeue me sir, they But together well.

¶Bian. Head, and but an hastie witted bodie,

¶Would say your Head and But were head and horne.

¶Vin. I Mistris Bride, hath that awakened you?

2585Bian. I, but not frighted me, therefore Ile sleepe a-

¶ gaine.

¶Petr. Nay that you shall not since you haue begun:

¶Haue at you for a better iest or too.

¶Bian. Am I your Bird, I meane to shift my bush,

2590And then pursue me as you draw your Bow.

¶You are welcome all.

Exit Bianca.

¶Petr. She hath preuented me, here signior Tranio,

¶This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not,

¶Therefore a health to all that shot and mist.

2595Tri. Oh sir, Lucentio slipt me like his Gray-hound,

¶Which runs himselfe, and catches for his Master.

¶Petr. A good swift simile, but something currish.

¶Tra. 'Tis well sir that you hunted for your selfe:

¶'Tis thought your Deere does hold you at a baie.

2600Bap. Oh, oh Petruchio, Tranio hits you now.

¶Luc. I thanke thee for that gird good Tranio.

¶Hor. Confesse, confesse, hath he not hit you here?

¶Petr. A has a little gald me I confesse:

¶And as the Iest did glaunce awaie from me,

2605'Tis ten to one it maim'd you too out right.

¶Bap. Now in good sadnesse sonne Petruchio,

¶I thinke thou hast the veriest shrew of all.

¶Petr. Well, I say no: and therefore sir assurance,

¶Let's each one send vnto his wife,

2610And he whose wife is most obedient,

¶To come at first when he doth send for her,

¶Shall win the wager which we will propose.

¶Hort. Content, what's the wager?

¶Luc. Twentie crownes.

2615Petr. Twentie crownes,

¶Ile venture so much of my Hawke or Hound,

¶But twentie times so much vpon my Wife.

¶Luc. A hundred then.

¶Hor. Content.

2620Petr. A match, 'tis done.

¶Hor. Who shall begin?

¶Luc. That will I.

¶Goe Biondello, bid your Mistris come to me.

¶Bio. Igoe.

Exit.

2625Bap. Sonne, Ile be your halfe, Bianca comes.

¶Luc. Ile haue no halues: Ile beare it all my selfe.

¶

Enter Biondello.

¶How now, what newes?

¶Bio. Sir, my Mistris sends you word

2630That she is busie, and she cannot come.

¶Petr. How? she's busie, and she cannot come: is that

¶an answere?

¶Gre. I, and a kinde one too:

¶Praie God sir your wife send you not a worse.

2635Petr. I hope better.

¶Hor. Sirra Biondello, goe and intreate my wife to

¶come to me forthwith.

Exit.Bion.

¶Pet. Oh ho, intreate her, nay then shee must needes

¶come.

2640Hor. I am affraid sir, doe what you can

¶

Enter Biondello.

¶Yours will not be entreated: Now, where's my wife?

¶Bion. She saies you haue some goodly Iest in hand,

¶She will not come: she bids you come to her.

2645Petr. Worse and worse, she will not come:

¶Oh vilde, intollerable, not to be indur'd:

¶Sirra Grumio, goe to your Mistris,

¶Say I command her come to me.

Exit.

¶Hor. I know her answere.

2650Pet. What?

¶Hor. She will not.

¶Petr. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.

¶

Enter Katerina.

¶Bap. Now by my hollidam here comes Katerina.

2655Kat. What is your will sir, that you send for me?

¶Petr. Where is your sister, and Hortensios wife?

¶Kate. They sit conferring by the Parler fire.

¶Petr. Goe fetch them hither, if they denie to come,

¶Swinge me them soundly forth vnto their husbands:

2660Away I say, and bring them hither straight.

¶Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talke of a wonder.

¶Hor. And so it is: I wonder what it boads.

¶Petr. Marrie peace it boads, and loue, and quiet life,

¶An awfull rule, and right supremicie:

2665And to be short, what not, that's sweete and happie.

¶Bap. Now faire befall thee good Petruchio;

¶The wager thou hast won, and I will adde

¶Vnto their losses twentie thousand crownes,

¶Another dowrie to another daughter,

2670For she is chang'd as she had neuer bin.

¶Petr. Nay, I will win my wager better yet,

¶And show more signe of her obedience,

¶Her new built vertue and obedience.

¶

Enter Kate, Bianca, and Widdow.

2675See where she comes, and brings your froward Wiues

¶As prisoners to her womanlie perswasion:

¶Katerine, that Cap of yours becomes you not,

¶Off with that bable, throw it vnderfoote.

¶Wid. Lord let me neuer haue a cause to sigh,

2680Till I be brought to such a sillie passe.

¶Bian. Fie what a foolish dutie call you this?

¶Luc. I would your dutie were as foolish too:

¶The wisdome of your dutie faire Bianca,

¶Hath cost me fiue hundred crownes since supper time.

2685Bian. The more foole you for laying on my dutie.

¶Pet. Katherine I charge thee tell these head-strong

¶women, what dutie they doe owe their Lords and hus-

¶bands.

¶Wid. Come, come, your mocking: we will haue no

2690telling.

¶Pet. Come on I say, and first begin with her.

¶Wid. She shall not.

¶Pet. I say she shall, and first begin with her.

¶Kate. Fie, fie, vnknit that thretaning vnkinde brow,

2695And dart not scornefull glances from those eies,

¶To wound thy Lord, thy King, thy Gouernour.

¶It blots thy beautie, as frosts doe bite the Meads,

¶Confounds thy fame, as whirlewinds shake faire budds,

¶And in no sence is meete or amiable.

2700A woman mou'd, is like a fountaine troubled,

¶Muddie, ill seeming, thicke, bereft of beautie,

¶And while it is so, none so dry or thirstie

¶Will daigne to sip, or touch one drop of it.

¶Thy husband is thy Lord, thy life, thy keeper,

2705Thy head, thy soueraigne: One that cares for thee,

¶And for thy maintenance. Commits his body

¶To painfull labour, both by sea and land:

¶To watch the night in stormes, the day in cold,

¶Whil'st thou ly'st warme at home, secure and safe,

2710And craues no other tribute at thy hands,

¶But loue, faire lookes, and true obedience;

¶Too little payment for so great a debt.

¶Such dutie as the subiect owes the Prince,

¶Euen such a woman oweth to her husband:

2715And when she is froward, peeuish, sullen, sowre,

¶And not obedient to his honest will,

¶What is she but a foule contending Rebell,

¶And gracelesse Traitor to her louing Lord?

¶I am asham'd that women are so simple,

2720To offer warre, where they should kneele for peace:

¶Or seeke for rule, supremacie, and sway,

¶When they are bound to serue, loue, and obay.

¶Why are our bodies soft, and weake, and smooth,

¶Vnapt to toyle and trouble in the world,

2725But that our soft conditions, and our harts,

¶Should well agree with our externall parts?

¶Come, come, you froward and vnable wormes,

¶My minde hath bin as bigge as one of yours,

¶My heart as great, my reason haplie more,

2730To bandie word for word, and frowne for frowne;

¶But now I see our Launces are but strawes:

¶Our strength as weake, our weakenesse past compare,

¶That seeming to be most, which we indeed least are.

¶Then vale your stomackes, for it is no boote,

2735And place your hands below your husbands foote:

¶In token of which dutie, if he please,

¶My hand is readie, may it do him ease.

¶Pet. Why there's a wench: Come on, and kisse mee

¶Kate.

2740Luc. Well go thy waies olde Lad for thou shalt ha't.

¶Vin. Tis a good hearing, when children are toward.

¶Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are froward,

¶Pet. Come Kate, weee'le to bed,

¶We three are married, but you two are sped.

2745'Twas I wonne the wager, though you hit the white,

¶And being a winner, God giue you good night.

¶

Exit Petruchio

¶Horten. Now goe thy wayes, thou hast tam'd a curst

¶Shrow.

2750Luc.Tis a wonder, by your leaue, she wil be tam'd so.