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Scanner’s Notes: What this is and isn’t. This was taken from a copy of Shakespeare’s first folio and it is as close as I can come in ASCII to the printed text.
The elongated S’s have been changed to small s’s and the conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling, punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the printed text. I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the Geneva Bible and Shakespeare’s First Folio and have unified spellings according to this template), typo’s and expanded abbreviations as I have come across them. Everything within brackets [] is what I have added. So if you don’t like that you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a purer Shakespeare.
Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual differences between various copies of the first folio. So there may be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between this and other first folio editions. This is due to the printer’s habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then continuing the printing run. The proof run wasn’t thrown away but incorporated into the printed copies. This is just the way it is. The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different First Folio editions’ best pages.
If you find any scanning errors, out and out typos, punctuation errors, or if you disagree with my spelling choices please feel free to email me those errors. I wish to make this the best etext possible. My email address for right now are haradda@aol.com and davidr@inconnect.com. I hope that you enjoy this.
David Reed
The Taming of the Shrew
Actus primus. Scaena Prima.
Enter Begger and Hostes, Christophero Sly.
Begger. Ile pheeze you infaith
Host. 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 Paucas pallabris, let the world slide: Sessa
Host. You will not pay for the glasses you haue burst? Beg. No, not a deniere: go by S[aint]. Ieronimie, goe to thy cold bed, and warme thee
Host. I know my remedie, I must go fetch the Head-borough
Beg. 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, Brach 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
Hunts. 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, I 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 he 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: Sirs, 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, Would 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: Carrie him gently to my fairest Chamber, And hang it round with all my wanton pictures: Balme his foule head in warme distilled waters, And burne sweet Wood to make the Lodging sweete: Procure me Musicke readie when he wakes, To 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 wil command: Let one attend him with a siluer Bason
Full 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: Another 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:
This 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 He 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, Belike 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 That offer seruice to your Lordship.
Enter Players.
Lord. Bid them come neere:
Now fellowes, you are welcome
Players. We thanke your Honor
Lord. 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, ‘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: Well 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,
Least (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
Plai. 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.
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:
Tell 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: With 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, And 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: And 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: See 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: I 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,
Which 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? 2.Ser. Wilt please your Honor taste of these Conserues? 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 me any Conserues, giue me conserues of Beefe: nere ask me what raiment Ile weare, for I haue no more doublets 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 ouer-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
Beg. What would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Slie, old Slies 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 know 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.Man. Oh this is it that makes your seruants droop
Lord. 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: Looke 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, Softer 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. Dost 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 As 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, Euen 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, Scratching 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, Then 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
Beg. 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,
And 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:
Oh 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, But 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, And 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 Nor 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
Beg. 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?
Beg. 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
La. 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?
Lord. 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
Beg. ‘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. For 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: But 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,
For so your doctors hold it very meete, 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, Which barres a thousand harmes, and lengthens life
Beg. Marrie I will let them play, it is not a Comontie, a Christmas gambold, or a tumbling tricke? Lady. No my good Lord, it is more pleasing stuffe
Beg. What, houshold stuffe
Lady. 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.
Flourish. Enter Lucentio, and his man Triano.
Luc. 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 With 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
Gaue me my being, and my father first A Merchant of great Trafficke through the world: Vincentio’s come of the Bentiuolij,
Vincentio’s sonne, brought vp in Florence, It shall become to serue all hopes conceiu’d To 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.
Tell 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: I 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, Let’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, Musicke 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
Luc. 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. But 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.
Bap. 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, Because 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
To 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, Iwis 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
Gre. 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.
Peace Tranio
Tra. Well said Mr, 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, For 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: My 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
Bianca’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: Go 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, Or 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, For I haue more to commune with Bianca.
Enter.
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
Gre. 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 I 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 we 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
Gre. 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?
Hor. 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 with 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 helping 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 best horse in Padua to begin his woing that would thoroughly 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 That 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, And 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: Counsaile 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, Redime 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
Luc. 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 Began 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
Tra. Nay, then ’tis time to stirre him fro[m] 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, Master, 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 To 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
Luc. 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?
Tra. 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. We 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, I 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 Coulord hat and cloake, When Biondello comes, he waites on thee, But 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: Be seruiceable to my sonne (quoth he)
Although I thinke ’twas in another sense, I am content to bee Lucentio,
Because so well I loue Lucentio
Luc. Tranio be so, because Lucentio loues, And 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 are 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 Your 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: Waite 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, Tranio 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 after, that Lucentio indeede had Baptistas yongest daughter. But sirra, not for my sake, but your masters, I aduise you vse your manners discreetly in all kind of companies: 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, To 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
Beg. 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.
Enter Petruchio, and his man Grumio.
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: Heere 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, that 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 Mr is growne quarrelsome:
I should knocke you first,
And 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
Gru. 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 at 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 signior mio Petruchio.
Rise 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 soundly sir. Well, was it fit for a seruant to vse his master so, being 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, And 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?
Petr. Sirra be gone, or talke not I aduise you
Hor. Petruchio patience, I am Grumio’s pledge: Why this a heauie chance twixt him and you, Your ancient trustie pleasant seruant Grumio: And tell me now (sweet friend) what happie gale Blowes 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, Antonio 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
Hor. 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, And 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) Be 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 As 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 to 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, I 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, Is, 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, Tell 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,
Her 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, And 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 thinke 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 litle, he wil throw a figure in her face, and so disfigure hir with 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, His 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, That 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,
A 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, That 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 disguised.
Gru. Heere’s no knauerie. See, to beguile the olde-folkes, 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
Gremio. 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
Signior 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
Luc. 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
Gre. 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. Trow 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 Fit 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, So 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, Listen 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, Yea, 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
Gre. 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: But 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
Petr. 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? Haue 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?
That 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:
This 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
Gru. 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? Bion. 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? Petr. 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? Tra. 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?
Gre. 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
Tra. 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, She may more sutors haue, and me for one. Faire Laedaes 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
Gre. 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? Tra. 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, And 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,
Vntill 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, Atchieue 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, You 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, And 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.
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, Yea 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
Bianca. 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 Ile 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 You 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 insolence? 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? When 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. Enter.
Kate. What will you not suffer me: Nay now I see She 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
Bap. 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.
Gre. Good morrow neighbour Baptista
Bap. Good morrow neighbour Gremio: God saue you Gentlemen
Pet. And you good sir: pray haue you not a daughter, cal’d Katerina, faire and vertuous
Bap. 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, Her 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, And 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,
Accept 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
Pet. 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, A 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 meruaylous forward
Pet. 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 The 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,
As 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, May 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 a sutor to your daughter, Vnto Bianca, faire and vertuous:
Nor 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, And 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: Bap. 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, You shall go see your Pupils presently.
Holla, within.
Enter a Seruant
Sirrah, leade these Gentlemen
To my daughters, and tell them both These 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, And 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, What 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 In 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
Pet. 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, Yet 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
Pet. 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?
Hor. For feare I promise you, if I looke pale
Bap. What, will my daughter proue a good Musitian? Hor. I thinke she’l sooner proue a souldier, Iron may hold with her, but neuer Lutes
Bap. Why then thou canst not break her to the Lute? Hor. Why no, for she hath broke the Lute to me: I did but tell her she mistooke her frets, And bow’d her hand to teach her fingering, When (with a most impatient diuellish spirit) Frets 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, While 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, Oh 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,
Or 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, She 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,
And 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. But 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:
They 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, For 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,
My 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
Pet. 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
Kate. 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
Pet. 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 angrie
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 his 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. Nay, 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, And 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 Pet. 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
Kate. 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
Pet. Now by S[aint]. 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
Kate. 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, But 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, With 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: Oh 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,
And 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?
Kat. 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, And 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,
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, I must, 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? Kat. 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
Pet. 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, For 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
Gre. Hark Petruchio, she saies shee’ll see thee hang’d first
Tra. Is this your speeding? nay the[n] 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, That 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, That 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 To 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 ha[n]ds, God send you ioy, Petruchio, ’tis a match
Gre. 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.
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, ‘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,
I 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
Gre. 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 co[m]pound this strife ‘Tis deeds must win the prize, and he of both That 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, Basons 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,
Fine 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, Sixe-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
Tra. 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
Old 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, My 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 Then 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, If 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, Shee 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, On 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:
And so I take my leaue, and thanke you both. Enter.
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,
An olde Italian foxe is not so kinde my boy. Enter.
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
Must get a father, call’d suppos’d Vincentio, 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. Enter.
Actus Tertia.
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 The 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, To 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
Hort. 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: I am no breeching scholler in the schooles, Ile not be tied to howres, nor pointed times, But 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? Luc. 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
Luc. Hic Ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio, hic est, sonne vnto Vincentio of Pisa, Sigeria tellus, disguised thus to get your loue, hic steterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing, priami, is my man Tranio, regia, bearing my port, celsa senis that we might beguile the old 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 simois, I know you not, hic est sigeria tellus, I trust you not, hic staterat priami, take heede he heare vs not, regia presume not, Celsa senis, despaire not
Hort. Madam, tis now in tune
Luc. All but the base
Hort. 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
Bian. Mistrust it not, for sure Aeacides 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:
Good 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 And 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, To 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
Hor. 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:
D sol re, 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. 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
Luc. 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: Seize thee that List, if once I finde thee ranging, Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. Enter.
Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Katherine, Bianca, and others, attendants.
Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the pointed day That 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? What 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: I 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, Yet 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, Vpon 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.
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.
Bion. 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?
Bion. 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
Tra. 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 buckled, another lac’d: an olde rusty sword tane out of the Towne Armory, with a broken hilt, and chapelesse: with two broken points: his horse hip’d with an olde mothy saddle, and stirrops of no kindred: besides possest with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine, troubled with the Lampasse, infected with the fashions, full of Windegalls, sped with Spauins, raied with the Yellowes, 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 being 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
Bap. Who comes with him?
Bion. Oh sir, his Lackey, for all the world Caparison’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 in’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
Bion. 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
Bap. Why that’s all one
Bion. Nay by S[aint]. 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? Bap. 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: But 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?
Bap. 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
Tra. 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,
Though 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
Tra. 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, To 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,
When I should bid good morrow to my Bride? And seale the title with a louely kisse. Enter.
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
Bap. Ile after him, and see the euent of this. Enter.
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,
It 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,
And 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, Ile 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,
The 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
Tra. 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
Tra. 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, That 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