Bap. Ay, when the special thing is well obtained, That is, her love; for that is all in all.

Pet. Why, that is nothing; for I tell you, father, I am as peremptory as she proud-minded; And where two raging fires meet together, They do consume the thing that feeds their fury: Though little fire grows great with little wind, Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all: So I to her, and so she yields to me; For I am rough, and woo not like a babe.

Bap. Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed!

But be thou armed for some unhappy words. Pet. Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds,

That shake not though they blow perpetually.

Re-enter HORTENSIO, with his head broken. Bap. How now, my friend? why dost thou look so pale?

Hor. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good musician?

Hor. I think she'll sooner prove a soldier; Iron may hold with her, but never 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 mistook her frets,
And bowed her hand to teach her fingering;
When, with a most impatient devilish spirit,
"Frets, call you these?" quoth she: "I'll fume

with them:"

And, with that word, she struck me on the head,
And through the instrument my pate made way;
And there I stood amazéd for awhile,
As on a pillory, looking through the lute:
While she did call me, rascal fiddler,
And twangling Jack; with twenty such vile terms,
As she had studied to misuse me so.

Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench;
I love her ten times more than e'er I did:
O, how I long to have some chat with her!
Bap. Well, go with me, and be not so discom-
fited:

Proceed in practice with my younger daughter;
She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns.
Signior Pertuchio, will you go with us;
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?
Pet. I pray you do; I will attend her here,-
[Exeunt BAPTISTA, GREMIO, TRANIO, and
HORTENSIO.

And woo her with some spirit, when she comes.
Say that she rail; why, then I'll tell her plain
She sings as sweetly as a nightingale:
Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear

As morning roses newly washed with dew:
Say she be mute, and will not speak a word;
Then I'll commend her volubility,

And say she uttereth piercing eloquence:
If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks,
As though she bid me stay by her a week;
If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day
When I shall ask the banns, and when be married.
But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak.

Enter KATHARINA.

Good-morrow, Kate; for that 's your name, I

hear.

Kath. Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing;

They call me Katharine, that do talk of me.
Pet. You lie, in faith; for you are called plain

Kate,

And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst;
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,
Kate of Kate-Hall, my super-dainty Kate,
For dainties are all cates: and therefore, Kate,
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation;-
Hearing thy mildness praised in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded
(Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs),
Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.

Kath. Moved! in good time: let him that moved

you hither,

Remove you hence. I knew you at the first, You were a moveable.

Pet.

Why, what's a moveable? Kath. A joint-stool.

Pet.

Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me. Kath. Asses are made to bear, and so are you. Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are you. Kath. No such jade as you, if me you mean. Pet. Alas, good Kate! I will not burden thee: For knowing thee to be but young and light,Kath. Too light for such a swain as you to catch; And yet as heavy as my weight should be. Pet. Should be? should! buz. Kath. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard. Pet. O, slow-winged turtle! shall a buzzard take thee?

Kath. Ay, for a turtle; as he takes a buzzard. Pet. Come, come, you wasp; i'faith you are

Pet. Kath.

"Tis with cares. I care not.

Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate; in sooth you 'scape

not so.

Kath. I chafe you if I tarry; let me go. Pet. No, not a whit; I find you passing gentle. "T was told me, you were rough, and coy, and sullen,

And now I find report a very liar;

For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous; But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time

flowers:

Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance,
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will ;

Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk;
But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers,
With gentle conference, soft and affable.
Why does the world report that Kate doth limp?
O slanderous world! Kate, like the hazel-twig,
Is straight and slender; and as brown in hue
As hazle-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels.
O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt.
Kath. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st com-

mand.

Pet. Did ever Dian so become a grove, As Kate this chamber with her princely gait?

Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, in thy bed:

And therefore, setting all this chat aside,
Thus in plain terms:-Your father has 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 turn;
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:
For I am he am born to tame you, Kate;
And bring you from a wild cat to a Kate
Conformable, as other household Kates.
Here comes your father; never make denial;
I must and will have Katharine to my wife.
Re-enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and TRANIO.
Bap. Now, Signior Petruchio: how speed you
with

You have shewed a tender, fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one half lunatic;

A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Jack,
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.
Pet. Father, 't is thus: yourself and all the world,
That talked of her, have talked amiss of her;
If she be curst, it is for policy:

For she's not froward, but modest as the dove;
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;
For patience she will prove a second Grissel;
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity:
And, to conclude, we have 'greed so well together,
That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.

Kath. I'll see thee hanged on Sunday first. Gre. Hark, Petruchio! she says, she'll see thee hanged first.

Tra. Is this your speeding? Nay, then, good

I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe
How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate!
She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss
She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twink she won me to her love.
O, you are novices! 'tis a world to see,
How tame, when men and women are alone,
A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.
Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day:
Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests;
I will be sure my Katharine shall be fine.

Bap. I know not what to say: but give me your hands:

God send you joy, Petruchio! 't is a match.
Gre.

} Amen, say we; we will be witnesses.

Tra. }

Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu; I will to Venice, Sunday comes apace:— We will have rings, and things, and fine array; And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o' Sunday. [Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA, severally.

Gre. Was ever match clapped up so suddenly? Bap. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part,

And venture madly on a desperate mart.

Tra. 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you: "Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas. Bap. The gain I seek is quiet in the match. Gre. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch. But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter: Now is the day we long have looked for; I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.

Tra. And I am one that love Bianca more Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess. Gre. Youngling! thou canst not love so dear as I. Tra. Greybeard! thy love doth freeze. Gre. But thine doth fry. Skipper, stand back; 'tis age that nourisheth. Tra. But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth. Bap. Content you, gentlemen; I'll compound

Pewter and brass, and all things that belong
To house or housekeeping: then, at my farm,
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls,
And all things answerable to this portion.
Myself am struck in years, I must confess;
And if I die to-morrow, this is hers,
If, whilst I live, she will be only mine.

Tra. That only, came well in.-Sir, list to me:

I am my father's heir and only son:
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
I'll leave her houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
Old Signior Gremio has in Padua ;
Besides two thousand ducats by the year
Of fruitful land; all which shall be her jointure.-
What, have I pinched you, Signior Gremio?

Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year of land!
My land amounts not to so much in all:
That she shall have; besides an argosy
That now is lying in Marseilles' road.-
What, have I choked you with an argosy?

Tra. Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less Than three great argosies; besides two galliasses, And twelve tight gallies: these I will assure her, And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next.

Gre. Nay, I have offered all; I have no more; And she can have no more than all I have.If you like me, she shall have me and mine.

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

By your firm promise; Gremio is outvied.
Bap. I must confess your offer is the best;
And, let your father make her the assurance,
She is your own; else you must pardon me:
If you should die before him, where's her dower?
Tra. That's but a cavil; he is old, I young.
Gre. And may not young men die, as well as old?
Bap. Well, gentlemen,

I am thus resolved:-On Sunday next you know
My daughter Katharine is to be married:
Now, on the Sunday following shall Bianca
Be bride to you, if you make this assurance;
If not, to Signior Gremio:

And so I take my leave, and thank you both. [Exit.
Gre. Adieu, good neighbour.-Now I fear thee not:
Sirrah, young gamester, your father were a fool
To give thee all, and in his waning age
Set foot under thy table. Tut! a toy!
An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. [Exit.
Tra. A vengeance on your crafty, withered hide!
Yet I have faced it with a card of ten.
'Tis in my head to do my master good:
I see no reason but supposed Lucentio
Must get a father, called-supposed Vincentio;
And that's a wonder: fathers commonly
Do get their children; but in this case of wooing,
A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning.

SCENE I.-Padua. A Room in BAPTISTA's House.
Enter LUCENTIO, HORTENSIO, and BIANCA.
Luc. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward,
sir:

Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
Her sister Katharine welcomed you withal?
Hor. But, wrangling pedant, this is
The patroness of heavenly harmony:
Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in music we have spent an hour,
Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.
Luc. Preposterous ass! that never read so far
To know the cause why music was ordained!
Was it not to refresh the mind of man
After his studies, or his usual pain?
Then give me leave to read philosophy,
And, while I pause, serve in your harmony.
Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of
thine.

Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double

wrong,

To strive for that which resteth in my choice:
I am no breeching scholar in the schools;
I'll not be tied to hours, nor 'pointed times,
But learn my lessons as I please myself.
And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down:-
Take you your instrument, play you the whiles;
His lecture will be done ere you have tuned.
Hor. You'll leave his lecture when I am in
tune?

[TO BIANCA; HORTENSIO retires. Luc. That will be never:-tune your instrument.