Bian. I must believe my master; else, I promise you,

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

My lessons make no music in three parts.

Luc. Are you so formal, sir? Well, I must wait,

And watch withal; for, but I be deceived,

Our fine musician groweth amorous.

[Aside.

That Katharine and Petruchio should be married,

And yet we hear not of our son-in-law:
What will be said? what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom, when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage?
What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?
Kath. No shame but mine: I must, forsooth,

be forced

To give my hand, opposed against my heart,
Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen,
Who wooed in haste, and means to wed at lei-

sure.

I told you, I, he was a frantic fool,

Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour:
And, to be noted for a merry man,

He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage,

Make friends, invite, yes, and proclaim the banns;
Yet never means to wed where he hath wooed.
Now must the world point at poor Katharine,
And
say, "Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her."
Tra. Patience, good Katharine, and Baptista
too;

Upon my life Petruchio means but well,
Whatever fortune stays him from his word:
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise;
Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.
Kath. 'Would Katharine had never seen him,
though!

[Exit, weeping, followed by BIANCA and

others.

Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to

weep;

For such an injury would vex a saint,
Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.

Enter BIONDello.

Bion. Master, master! news, old news, and such news as you never heard of.

Bap. Is it new and old too? how may that be? Bion. Why! is it not news to hear of Petruchio's coming?

Bap. Is he come?

Bion. Why, no, sir.

Bap. What then?

Bion. He is coming.

Bap. When will he be here?

Bion. When he stands where I am, and sees

you there.

Tra. But say what :-to thine old news.

Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new hat and an old jerkin; a pair of old breeches thrice turned; a pair of boots that have been candlecases, one buckled, another laced; an old rusty sword ta'en out of the town armoury, with a

broken hilt, and chapeless; with two broken points: - his horse hipped with an old mothy saddle, the stirrups of no kindred: besides, possessed with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine; troubled with the lampass, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls, sped with spavins, rayed with the yellows, past cure of the fives, stark spoiled with the staggers, beknawn with the bots; swayed in the back, and shouldershotten; ne'er-legged before, and with a halfchecked bit, and a head-stall of sheep's leather; which, being restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repaired with knots; one girth six times pieced, and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her name, fairly set down in studs, and here and there pieced with packthread.

Bap. Who comes with him?

Bion. O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned like the horse; with a linen stock on one leg, and a kersy boot-hose on the other, gartered with a red and blue list; an old hat, and "The humour of forty fancies" pricked in 't for a feather: a monster, a very monster, in apparel; and not like a Christian footboy, or a gentleman's lackey.

Tra. 'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion;

Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparelled. Bap. I am glad he is come, howsoe'er he

comes.

Bion. Why, sir, he comes not.

Bap. Didst thou not say he comes?
Bion. Who? that Petruchio came?

Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came.

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

Bap. Why, that's all one.

Bion. Nay, by St. Jamy, I hold you a penny A horse and a man is more than one, and yet not many.

Enter PETRUCHIO and GRUMIO.

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

Bap. You are welcome, sir.

Bap. Why, sir, you know this is your weddingday:

First were we sad, fearing you would not come;
Now sadder, that you come so unprovided.
Fie! doff this habit, shame to your estate,
An eyesore to our solemn festival.

Tra. And tell us what occasion of import Hath all so long detained you from your wife, And sent you hither so unlike yourself?

Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear:

Sufficeth I am come to keep my word,
Though in some part enforcéd to digress;
Which at more leisure I will so excuse

As you shall well be satisfied withal.
But where is Kate? I stay too long from her;
The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church.
Tra. See not your bride in these unreverent

robes;

Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine.

Pet. Not I, believe me; thus I'll visit her. Bap. But thus, I trust, you will not marry

her.

Pet. Good sooth, even thus; therefore have done with words;

To me she's married, not unto my clothes:
Could I repair what she will wear in me,
As I can change these poor accoutrements,
"T were well for Kate, and better for myself.
But what a fool am I to chat with you,
When I should bid good morrow to my bride,
And seal the title with a lovely kiss?

[Exeunt PETRUCHIO, GRUMIO, and
BIONDELLO.

Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad attire: We will persuade him, be it possible, To put on better, ere he go to church.

Bap. I'll after him, and see the event of this.

[Exit.

Tra. But, sir, to her love concerneth us to add

Her father's liking: which to bring to pass,
As I before imparted to your worship,

I am to get a man,-whate'er he be

It skills not much; we'll fit him to our turn,

And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa,
And make assurance here in Padua
Of greater sums than I have promised.
So shall you quietly enjoy your hope,
And marry sweet Bianca with consent.

Luc. Were it not that my fellow-schoolmaster
Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly,
'T were good, methinks, to steal our marriage;
Which once performed, let all the world say no,
I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world.

Tra. That by degrees we mean to look into, And watch our vantage in this business:

We'll overreach the greybeard, Gremio;
The narrow-prying father, Minola;
The quaint musician, amorous Licio;
All for my master's sake, Lucentio.

Re-enter GREMIO.

Signior Gremio, came you from the church!
Gre. As willingly as e'er I came from school.
Tra. And is the bride and bridegroom coming
home?

Gre. A bridegroom, say you? 't is a groom indeed,

A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall

find.

Tra. Curster than she? why, 't is impossible. Gre. Why, he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend. Tra. Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam.

Gre. Tut! she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him. I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest Should ask if Katherine should be his wife, "Ay, by gog's-wouns," quoth he; and swore so loud,

That, all amazed, the priest let fall the book;
And, as he stooped again to take it up,
The mad-brained bridegroom took him such a
cuff,

That down fell priest and book, and book and

priest;

"Now take them up," quoth he, "if any list." Tra. What said the wench, when he arose again?

Gre. Trembled and shook; for why, he stamped
and swore

As if the vicar meant to cozen him.
But after many ceremonies done,
He calls for wine:

"A health," quoth he; as if he had been aboard,
Carousing to his mates after a storm :
Quaffed off the muscadel, and threw the sops
All in the sexton's face;

Having no other reason,

But that his beard grew thin and hungerly,
And seemed to ask him sops as he was drinking.
This done, he took the bride about the neck,
And kissed her lips with such a clamorous
smack,

That, at the parting, all the church did echo.
I, seeing this, came thence for very shame;
And after me I know the rout is coming:
Such a mad marriage never was before:
Hark, hark! I hear the minstrels play. [Music.

Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, BIANCA, BAP-
TISTA, HORTENSIO, GRUMIO, and Train.
Pet. Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for
your pains:

I know you think to dine with me to-day,
And have prepared great store of wedding cheer:
But so it is, my haste doth call me hence,
And therefore here I mean to take my leave.

Bap. Is't possible you will away to-night?
Pet. I must away to-day, before night come :
Make it no wonder; if you knew my business,
You would entreat me rather go than stay.
And, honest company, I thank you all,
That have beheld me give away myself
To this most patient, sweet, and virtuous wife:
Dine with my father, drink a health to me;
For I must hence, and farewell to you all.
Tra. Let us entreat you stay till after dinner.
Pet. It may not be.

Kath. I will be angry. What hast thou to do? Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure.

Gre. Ay marry, sir: now it begins to work. Kath. Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner: I see a woman may be made a fool, If she had not a spirit to resist.

Pet. They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command:

Obey the bride, you that attend on her;
Go to the feast, revel and domineer,
Carouse full measure to her maidenhead,
Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves;
But for my bonny Kate, she must with me.
Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret;
I will be master of what is mine own:
She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house,
My household-stuff, my field, my barn,
My horse, my ox, my ass, my anything;
And here she stands, touch her whoever dare;
I'll bring my action on the proudest he
That stops my way in Padua.-Grumio,

SCENE I.-A Hall in PETRUCHIO's Country House.

Enter GRUMIO.

Gru. Fie, fie, on all tired jades, on all mad masters, and all foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? was ever man so rayed? was ever man so weary? I am sent before to make a fire, and they are coming after to warm them. Now, were not I a little pot and soon hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roof of my mouth, my heart in my belly, ere I should come by a fire to thaw me: but I, with blowing the fire, shall warm myself; for, considering the weather, a taller man than I will take cold. Holla, hoa! Curtis!

Enter CURTIS.

Curt. Who is that calls so coldly?

Gru. A piece of ice: if thou doubt it, thou mayst slide from my shoulder to my heel, with no greater a run but my head and my neck. A fire, good Curtis.

Curt. Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio?

Gru. O ay, Curtis, ay: and therefore fire, fire;

cast on no water.

Curt. Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported? Gru. She was, good Curtis, before this frost: but thou know'st winter tames man, woman, and beast; for it hath tamed my old master, and my new mistress, and myself, fellow Curtis.

Curt. Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast.

Gru. Am I but three inches? why, thy horn is a foot; and so long am I, at the least. But wilt thou make a fire, or shall I complain on thee to our mistress, whose hand (she being now at hand) thou shalt soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office.

Curt. I pr'y thee, good Grumio, tell me how goes the world?

Gru. A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine; and therefore, fire: do thy duty, and have thy duty; for my master and mistress are almost

frozen to death.

Curt. There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news?

Gru. Why, "Jack boy! ho boy!" and as much news as thou wilt.

Curt. Come, you are so full of coney-catching :Gru. Why therefore, fire; for I have caught extreme cold. Where's the cook? Is supper ready, the house trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept; the serving-men in their new fustian, their white stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on? Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without, the carpets laid, and everything in order?

Curt. All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news?

Gru. First, know my horse is tired; my master and mistress fallen out.

Curt. How?

Gru. Out of their saddles into the dirt: and thereby hangs a tale.

Curt. Let's ha't, good Grumio.