 | The Taming of the Shrew |  |
Actus primus.
Scœna 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. Ieronimie, goe to thy
cold bed, and warme thee.
Host.
I know my remedie, I must go fetch the Headborough.
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 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,
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 vvil command:
Let one attend him vvith 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
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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 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
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 abject 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 will 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.
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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 Ioue 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 lenghtens life.
Beg.
Marrie I will let them play, it is not a Common-tie,
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 Bentinolij,
Vincentio's sonne, brough 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 love Katherina,
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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,
I-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.
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 resould:
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.
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.
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 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,
Master, your Loue must liue a maide at home,
And therefore has he closely meu'd her vp,
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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.
Basla, 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 Conlord 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 sence,
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, you 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.
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 ye world,
213
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 will 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 little,
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 will 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 disgused.
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 will 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
212
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 streers 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 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.
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 selfe,
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
215
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.
Exit.
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 on 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 as utor 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.
216
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 practice 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:
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 moou'd to woo thee for my wife.
Kate.
Mou'd, in good time, let him that mou'd you
hether.
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. 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,
217
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 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,
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 twinkle 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 hāds.
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 will cōpound 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,
218
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.
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,
An 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
Must 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.
| The Taming of the Shrew | |