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For then she never looks upon her lure.
Another way I have to man my haggard,
To make her come, and know her keeper's call;
That is, to watch her as we watch these kites,
That bate, and beat, and will not be obedient.
She ate no meat to-day, nor none shall eat;
Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not;
As with the meat, sonie undeserved fault
I'll find about the making of the bed;
And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster,
This way the coverlet, another way the sheets:-
Ay, and amid this hurly, I intend,
That all is done in reverend care of her;
And, in conclusion, she shall watch all night:
And, if she chance to nod, I'll rail, and brawl,
And with the clamour keep her still awake.
This is a way to kill a wife with kindness;
And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong hu-

mour:

He, that knows better how to tame a shrew, Now let him speak: 'tis charity to show. [Exit.

SCENE II.-Padua. Before Baptista's house.

Enter TRANIO and HORTENSIO. Tra. Is't possible, friend Licio, that Bianca Doth fancy any other but Lucentio ? I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand.

Hor. Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said, Stand by, and mark the manner of his teaching. [They stand aside.

Enter BIANCA and LUCENTIO.

Luc. Now, mistress, profit you in what you read?

Bian. What, master, read you? first resolve me that.

Luc. I read that, I profess; the art to love. Bian. And may you prove, sir, master of your art!

Luc. While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart. [They retire. Hor. Quick proceeders, marry! Now, tell me,

I pray,

You that durst swear that your mistress Bianca Lov'd none in the world so well as Lucentio.

Tra. O despiteful love! unconstant womankind!

I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful.

Hor. Mistake no more: I am not Licio,
Nor a musician, as I seem to be;
But one that scorn to live in this disguise,
For such a one as leaves a gentleman,
And makes a god of such a cullion:
Know, sir, that I am call'd-Hortensio.

Tra. Signior Hortensio, I have often heard
Of your entire affection to Bianca;
And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness,
I will with you,-if you be so contented,-
Forswear Bianca and her love for ever.

Hor. See, how they kiss and court !-Signior Lucentio,

Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow

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Tra. Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace

As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case!
Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love;
And have forsworn you, with Hortensio.
Bian. Tranio, you jest: But have you both
forsworn me?

Tra. Mistress, we have.

Luc. Then we are rid of Licio.

Tra. I'faith, he'll have a lusty widow now, That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day. Bian. God give him joy!

Tra. Ay, and he'll tame her.
Bian. He says so, Tranio.

Tra. 'Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school. Bian. The taming-school! what, is there such a place?

Tra. Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the mas

ter;

That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty longTo tame a shrew, and charm her chattering tongue.

Enter BIONDELLO, running. Bion. O master, master, I have watch'd so long

That I'm dog-weary; but at last I spied
An ancient angel coming down the hill,
Will serve the turn.

Tra. What is he, Biondello?

Bion. Master, a mercatantè, or a pedant,
I know not what; but formal in apparel,
In gait and countenance surely like a father.
Luc. And what of him, Tranio?

Tra. If he be credulous, and trust my tale,
I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio;
And give assurance to Baptista Minola,
As if he were the right Vincentio.
Take in your love, and then let me alone.
[Exeunt Lucentio and Bianca.
Enter a Pedant.
Ped. God save you, sir!

Tra. And you, sir! you are welcome. Travel you far on, or are you at the furthest? Ped. Sir, at the furthest for a week or two: But then up further; and as far as Rome; And so to Tripoly, if God lend me life. Tra. What countryman, I pray? Ped. Of Mantua.

Tra. Of Mantua, sir ?-marry, God forbid ! And come to Padua, careless of your life? Ped. My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard.

Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua To come to Padua: Know you not the cause? Your ships are staid at Venice; and the duke (For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him,) Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly: "Tis marvel; but that you're but newly come, You might have heard it else proclaim'd about. Ped. Alas, sir, it is worse for me than so; For I have bills for money by exchange From Florence, and must here deliver them. Tra. Well, sir, to do you courtesy, This will I do, and this will I advise you ;First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa ? Ped. Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been ; Pisa, renowned for grave citizens.

Tra. Among them, know you one Vincentio ? Ped. I know him not, but I have heard of him; A merchant of incomparable wealth.

Tra. He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say, In countenance somewhat doth resemble you. Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all one.

Aside.

Tra. To save your life in this extremity,
This favour will I do you for his sake;
And think it not the worst of all your fortunes,
That you are like to sir Vincentio.

His name and credit shall you undertake,
And in my house you shall be friendly lodg'd:-
Look, that you take upon you as you should;
You understand me, sir ;-so shall you stay
Till you have done your business in the city:
If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it.

Ped. O, sir, I do; and will repute you ever The patron of my life and liberty.

Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter good. This, by the way, I let you understand;My father is here look'd for every day, To pass assurance of a dower in marriage 'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here: In all these circumstances I'll instruct you: Go with me, sir, to clothe you as becomes you. [Exeunt.

SCENE III-A room in Petruchio's house.

Enter KATHARINA and GRUMIO.
Gru. No, no, forsooth; I dare not, for my life.
Kath. The more my wrong, the more his spite
appears:

What, did he marry me to famish me?
Beggars, that come unto my father's door,
Upon entreaty, have a present alms;

VOL. I.

If not, elsewhere they meet with charity:
But I,-who never knew how to entreat,
Nor never needed that I should entreat,-
Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep;
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed:
And that, which spites me more than all these
wants,

He does it under name of perfect love;
As who should say,-if I should sleep, or eat,
"Twere deadly sickness, or else present death.-
I pr'ythee go, and get me some repast;
I care not what, so it be wholesome food.
Gru. What say you to a neat's foot?
Kath. 'Tis passing good; I pr'ythee let me
have it.

Gru. I fear, it is too choleric a meat :-
How say you to a fat tripe, finely broil'd?
Kath. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me.
Gru. I cannot tell; I fear, 'tis choleric.
What say you to a piece of beef, and mustard?
Kath. A dish, that I do love to feed upon.
Gru. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.
Kath. Why, then the beef, and let the mus
tard rest.

Gru. Nay, then I will not; you shall have the mustard,

Or else you get no beef of Grumio.

slave,

Kath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt. Gru. Why, then the mustard without the beef. Kath. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding [Beats him. That feed'st me with the very name of meat: Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you, That triumph thus upon my misery! Go, get thee gone, I say.

Enter PETRUCHIO with a dish of meat; and HORTENSIO.

Pet. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort?

Hor. Mistress, what cheer?

Kath. 'Faith, as cold as can be.

Pet. Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully up

on me.

Here, love; thou see'st how diligent I am,
To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee:
[Sets the dish on a table.

I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks
What, not a word? Nay then, thou lov'st it not;
And all my pains is sorted to no proof:-
Here, take away this dish.

Kath. 'Pray you, let it stand.

Pet. The poorest service is repaid with thanks; And so shall mine, before you touch the meat. Kath. I thank you, sir.

Hor. Signior Petruchio, fye! you are to blame: Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company. Pet. Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lov'st

me.

Aside

Much good do it unto thy gentle heart! Kate, eat apace :-And now, my honey love, Will we return unto thy father's house; And revel it as bravely as the best,

X

With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings, With ruffs, and cuffs, and farthingales, and things;

With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery,

With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery. What, hast thou din'd? The tailor stays thy leisure,

To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure.

Enter Tailor.

Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments;

Enter Haberdasher.

Lay forth the gown.-What news with you, sir?
Hab. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.
Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer;
A velvet dish ;-fye, fye! 'tis lewd and filthy:
Why, 'tis a cockle, or a walnut-shell,
A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap;
Away with it, come, let me have a bigger.
Kath. I'll have no bigger; this doth fit the time,
And gentlewomen wear such caps as these.
Pet. When you are gentle, you shall have one
too,

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Kath. Why, sir, I trust, I may have leave to
speak;

And speak I will; I am no child, no babe:
Your betters have endur'd me say my mind;
And, if you cannot, best you stop your ears.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart;
Or else my heart, concealing it, will break:
And, rather than it shall, I will be free
Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.

Pet. Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap,
A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie:
I love thee well, in that thou lik'st it not.

Kath. Love me, or love me not, I like the cap;
And it I will have, or I will have none.
Pet. Thy gown? why, ay :-Come, tailor, let
us see't.

O mercy, God! what masking stuff is here?
What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon:
What! up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart?
Here'ssnip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash,
Like to a censer in a barber's shop:-
Why, what o'devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?
Hor. I see, she's like to have neither cap nor
gown.
[Aside.
Tai. You bid me make it orderly and well,
According to the fashion, and the time.

Pet. Marry, and did; but if you be remember'd,
I did not bid you mar it to the time.
Go, hop me over every kennel home,
For you shall hop without my custom, sir:
I'll none of it; hence, make your best of it.

Kath. I never saw a better-fashion'd gown, More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable:

Belike, you mean to make a puppet of me.

Pet. Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee.

Tai. She says, your worship means to make a puppet of her.

Pet. O monstrous arrogance! thou liest, thou thread, Thou thimble,

Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail,

Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter cricket thou:-
Brav'd in mine own house with a skein of thread!
Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant;
Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard,
As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv'st!
I teil thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.
Tui. Your worship is deceiv'd; the gown is

made

Just as my master had direction:
Grumio gave order how it should be done.

Gru. I gave him no order, I gave him the stuff.
Tai. But how did you desire it should be made?
Gru. Marry, sir, with needle and thread.
Tai. But did you not request to have it cut?
Gru. Thou hast faced many things.
Tai. I have.

Gru. Face not me: thou hast braved many men ; brave not me; I will neither be faced nor braved. I say unto thee,-I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces: ergo, thou liest.

Tai. Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify.

Pet. Read it.

Gru. The note lies in his throat, if he say I said so.

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Tai. Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown:

Gru. Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom of brown thread: I said a gown. Pet. Proceed.

Tai. With a small compassed cape;
Gru. I confess the cape.

Tai. With a trunk sleeve ;-
Gru. I confess two sleeves.
Tai. The sleeves curiously cut.
Pet. Ay, there's the villainy.

Gru. Error i'the bill, sir; error i̇'the bill. I commanded the sleeves should be cut out, and sewed up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble.

Tai. This is true, that I say; an I had thee in place where, thou should'st know it.

Gru. I am for thee straight: take thou the bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me. Hor. God-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall have no odds.

Pet. Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me. Gru. You are i'the right, sir; 'tis for my mis

tress.

Pet. Go, take it up unto thy master's use. Gru. Villain, not for thy life: Take up my mistress' gown for thy master's use!

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Pet. Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your
father's,

Even in these honest mean habiliments;
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor:
For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
What, is the jay more precious than the lark,
Because his feathers are more beautiful?
Or is the adder better than the eel,
Because his painted skin contents the eye?
O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse
For this poor furniture, and mean array.
If thou account'st it shame, lay it on me:
And therefore, frolic; we will hence forthwith,
To feast and sport us at thy father's house.-
Go, call my men, and let us straight to him;
And bring our horses unto Long-lane end,
There will we mount, and thither walk on foot.
Let's see; I think, 'tis now some seven o'clock,
And well we may come there by dinner time.
Kath. I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two;
And 'twill be supper time, ere you come there.
Pet. It shall be seven, ere I go to horse:
Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do,
You are still crossing it.—Sirs, let't alone :
I will not go to-day; and ere I do,
It shall be what o'clock I say it is.
Hor. Why, so! this gallant will command the
[Exeunt.

sun.

SCENE IV.-Padua.

Before Baptista's house.

Enter TRANIO, and the Pedant dressed like
VINCENTIO.

Tra. Sir, this is the house; Please it

you,

that

I call?
Ped. Ay, what else? and, but I be deceived,
Signior Baptista may remember me,
Near twenty years ago, in Genoa, where
We were lodgers at the Pegasus.

Tra. 'Tis well;

And hold your own, in any case, with such
Austerity as 'longeth to a father.

Enter BIONDello.

Ped. I warrant you: But, sir, here comes your boy;

'Twere good, he were school'd.

Now do your duty throughly, I advise you ;
Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio.
Bion. Tut! fear not me.

Tra. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista?
Bion. I told him, that your father was at Venice;
And that you look'd for him this day in Padua.
Tra. Thou'rt a tall fellow; hold thee, that to
drink.

Here comes Baptista:-set your countenance,
sir.-

Enter BAPTISTA and LUCENTIO.
Signior Baptista, you are happily met:
Sir, To the Pedant.]

This is the gentleman I told you of;
I pray you, stand good father to me now,
Give me Bianca for my patrimony.

Ped. Soft, son !—

Sir, by your leave; having come to Padua
To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio
Made me acquainted with a weighty cause
Of love between your daughter and himself:
And, for the good report I hear of you;
And for the love he beareth to your daughter,
And she to him,-to stay him not too long,
I am content, in a good father's care,
To have him match'd: and,-if you please to like
No worse than I, sir,-upon some agreement,
Me shall you find most ready and most willing
With one consent to have her so bestow'd;
For curious I cannot be with you,
Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well.

Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I have to say ;Your plainness, and your shortness, please me well.

Right true it is, your son Lucentio here
Doth love my daughter, and she loveth him,
Or both dissemble deeply their affections:
And, therefore, if you say no more than this,
That like a father you will deal with him,
And pass my daughter a sufficient dower,
The match is fully made, and all is done:
Your son shall have my daughter with consent.
Tra. I thank you, sir. Where then do you

know best,

We be affied; and such assurance ta'en,
As shall with either part's agreement stand?
Bap. Not in my house, Lucentio; for you
know,

Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants:
Besides, old Gremio is heark'ning still;
And, happily, we might be interrupted.

Tra. Then at my lodging, an it like you, sire
There doth my father lie; and there, this night,
We'll pass the business privately and well:
Send for your daughter by your servant here,
My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently.
The worst is this,-that, at so slender warning,
You're like to have a thin and slender pittance.
Bap. It likes me well :-Cambio, hie you
home,

And bid Bianca make her ready straight; Tra. Fear you not him.-Sirrah, Biondello, And, if you will, tell what hath happened

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Pet. I say, it is the moon that shines so bright. Kath. I know, it is the sun that shines so bright.

Pet. Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself,

It shall be moon, or star, or what I list,
Or ere I journey to your father's house :-
Go on, and fetch our horses back again.-
Evermore cross'd, and cross'd, nothing but
cross'd!

Hor. Say as he says, or we shall never go. Kath. Forward, I pray, since we have come so far,

Bion. You saw my master wink and laugh And be it moon, or sun, or what you please: upon you?

Luc. Biondello, what of that?

Bion. 'Faith nothing; but he has left me here behind, to expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens.

Luc. I pray thee, moralize them.

Bion. Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking with the deceiving father of a deceitful son. Luc. And what of him?

Bion. His daughter is to be brought by you

to the supper.

Luc. And then?

Bion. The old priest at St Luke's church is

at your command at all hours. Luc. And what of all this?

Bion. I cannot tell; except they are busied about a counterfeit assurance: Take you assurance of her, cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum to the church;-take the priest, clerk, and some sufficient honest witnesses:

If this be not that you look for, I have no more to say,

But, bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day. [Going.

Luc. Hear'st thou, Biondello?

Bion. I cannot tarry: I knew a wench married in an afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley to stuff a rabbit; and so may you, sir; and so adieu, sir. My master hath appointed me to go to St Luke's to bid the priest be ready to come, against you come with your appendix. [Exit. Luc. I may, and will, if she be so contented: She will be pleas'd, then wherefore should I doubt?

Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her; It shall go hard, if Cambio go without her.

[Exit.

SCENE V.-A public road. Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, and HOR

TENSIO.

Pet. Come on, o' God's name; once more toward our father's.

Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon!

Kath. The moon! the sun; it is not moonlight now.

And if you please to call it a rush candle,
Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.

Pet. I say, it is the moon.
Kath. I know it is.

Pet. Nay, then you lie; it is the blessed sun.
Kath. Then God be bless'd, it is the blessed

sun :

But sun it is not, when you say it is not;
And the moon changes, even as your mind.
What you will have it named, even that it is;
And so it shall be so, for Katharine.

Hor. Petruchio, go thy ways; the field is won. Pet. Well, forward, forward: thus the bowl should run,

And not unluckily against the bias.—
But soft; what company is coming here?

Enter VINCENTIO, in a travelling dress. Good-morrow, gentle mistress: Where away?— [To Vincentio.

Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,
Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman?
Such war of white and red within her cheeks!
What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty,
As those two eyes become that heavenly face?—
Fair lovely maid, once more good-day to thee:-
Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake.
Hor. 'A will make the man mad, to make a
woman of him.

Kath. Young budding virgin, fair, and fresh, and sweet,

Whither away; or where is thy abode?
Happy the parents of so fair a child;
Happier the man, whom favourable stars
Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow !

Pet. Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art not mad:

This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd; And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is.

Kath. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes, That have been so bedazzled with the sun, That every thing I look on seemeth green: Now I perceive, thou art a reverend father; Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking. Pet. Do, good old grandsire; and withal, make

known

Which way thou travellest: if along with us, We shall be joyful of thy company.

Vin. Fair sir,-and you my merry mistress,

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