William Shakespeare's
The Taming of the Shrew. Act II, scene 1.
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ACT II. SCENE I.
Padua. BAPTISTA'S house
Enter KATHERINA and BIANCA
BIANCA
Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,
To make a bondmaid and a slave of me-
That I disdain; but for these other gawds,
Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself,
Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat;
Or what you will command me will I do,
So well I know my duty to my elders.
KATHERINA
Of all thy suitors here I charge thee tell
Whom thou lov'st best. See thou dissemble not.
BIANCA
Believe me, sister, of all the men alive
I never yet beheld that special face
Which I could fancy more than any other.
KATHERINA
Minion, thou liest. Is't not Hortensio?
BIANCA
If you affect him, sister, here I swear
I'll plead for you myself but you shall have him.
KATHERINA
O then, belike, you fancy riches more:
You will have Gremio to keep you fair.
BIANCA
Is it for him you do envy me so?
Nay, then you jest; and now I well perceive
You have but jested with me all this while.
I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands.
KATHERINA
[Strikes her] If that be jest, then an the rest was so.
Enter BAPTISTA
BAPTISTA
Why, how now, dame! Whence grows this insolence?
Bianca, stand aside- poor girl! she weeps.
[He unbinds her]
Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her.
For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit,
Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee?
When did she cross thee with a bitter word?
KATHERINA
Her silence flouts me, and I'll be reveng'd.
[Flies after BIANCA]
BAPTISTA
What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in.
Exit BIANCA
KATHERINA
What, will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see
She is your treasure, she must have a husband;
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding-day,
And for your love to her lead apes in hell.
Talk not to me; I will go sit and weep,
Till I can find occasion of revenge.
Exit KATHERINA
BAPTISTA
Was ever gentleman thus griev'd as I?
But who comes here?
Enter GREMIO, with LUCENTIO in the habit of a mean man;
PETRUCHIO, with HORTENSIO as a musician; and TRANIO,
as LUCENTIO, with his boy, BIONDELLO, bearing a lute andbooks
GREMIO
Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.
BAPTISTA
Good morrow, neighbour Gremio.
God save you, gentlemen!
PETRUCHIO
And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter
Call'd Katherina, fair and virtuous?
BAPTISTA
I have a daughter, sir, call'd Katherina.
GREMIO
You are too blunt; go to it orderly.
PETRUCHIO
You wrong me, Signior Gremio; give me leave.
I am a gentleman of Verona, sir,
That, hearing of her beauty and her wit,
Her affability and bashful modesty,
Her wondrous qualities and mild behaviour,
Am bold to show myself a forward guest
Within your house, to make mine eye the witness
Of that report which I so oft have heard.
And, for an entrance to my entertainment,
I do present you with a man of mine,
[Presenting HORTENSIO]
Cunning in music and the mathematics,
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 Licio, born in Mantua.
BAPTISTA
Y'are welcome, sir, and he for your good sake;
But for my daughter Katherine, this I know,
She is not for your turn, the more my grief.
PETRUCHIO
I see you do not mean to part with her;
Or else you like not of my company.
BAPTISTA
Mistake me not; I speak but as I find.
Whence are you, sir? What may I call your name?
PETRUCHIO
Petruchio is my name, Antonio's son,
A man well known throughout all Italy.
BAPTISTA
I know him well; you are welcome for his sake.
GREMIO
Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,
Let us that are poor petitioners speak too.
Bacare! you are marvellous forward.
PETRUCHIO
O, pardon me, Signior Gremio! I would fain be doing.
GREMIO
I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your wooing.
Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am sure of it. To
express the like kindness, myself, that have been more kindly
beholding to you than any, freely give unto you this young
scholar [Presenting LUCENTIO] that hath been long studying at
Rheims; as cunning in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as the
other in music and mathematics. His name is Cambio. Pray accept
his service.
BAPTISTA
A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio. Welcome, good Cambio.
[To TRANIO] But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger.
May I be so bold to know the cause of your coming?
TRANIO
Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own
That, being a stranger in this city here,
Do make myself a suitor to your daughter,
Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous.
Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me
In the preferment of the eldest sister.
This liberty is all that I request-
That, upon knowledge of my parentage,
I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo,
And free access and favour as the rest.
And toward the education of your daughters
I here bestow a simple instrument,
And this small packet of Greek and Latin books.
If you accept them, then their worth is great.
BAPTISTA
Lucentio is your name? Of whence, I pray?
TRANIO
Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio.
BAPTISTA
A mighty man of Pisa. By report
I know him well. You are very welcome, sir.
Take you the lute, and you the set of books;
You shall go see your pupils presently.
Holla, within!
Enter a SERVANT
Sirrah, lead these gentlemen
To my daughters; and tell them both
These are their tutors. Bid them use them well.
Exit SERVANT leading HORTENSIO carrying the lute
and LUCENTIO with the books
We will go walk a little in the orchard,
And then to dinner. You are passing welcome,
And so I pray you all to think yourselves.
PETRUCHIO
Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,
And every day I cannot come to woo.
You knew my father well, and in him me,
Left solely heir to all his lands and goods,
Which I have bettered rather than decreas'd.
Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love,
What dowry shall I have with her to wife?
BAPTISTA
After my death, the one half of my lands
And, in possession, twenty thousand crowns.
PETRUCHIO
And for that dowry, I'll assure her of
Her widowhood, be it that she survive me,
In all my lands and leases whatsoever.
Let specialities be therefore drawn between us,
That covenants may be kept on either hand.
BAPTISTA
Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd,
That is, her love; for that is all in all.
PETRUCHIO
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.
BAPTISTA
Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed
But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words.
PETRUCHIO
Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds,
That shake not though they blow perpetually.
Re-enter HORTENSIO, with his head broke
BAPTISTA
How now, my friend! Why dost thou look so pale?
HORTENSIO
For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.
BAPTISTA
What, will my daughter prove a good musician?
HORTENSIO
I think she'll sooner prove a soldier:
Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.
BAPTISTA
Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute?
HORTENSIO
Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me.
I did but tell her she mistook her frets,
And bow'd 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 amazed for a while,
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.
PETRUCHIO
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!
BAPTISTA
Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited;
Proceed in practice with my younger daughter;
She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns.
Signior Petruchio, will you go with us,
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?
PETRUCHIO
I pray you do. Exeunt all but PETRUCHIO
I'll attend her here,
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 wash'd 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; :Lnd.now, Petruchio, speak.
Enter KATHERINA
Good morrow, Kate- for that's your name, I hear.
KATHERINA
Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:
They call me Katherine that do talk of me.
PETRUCHIO
You lie, in faith, for you are call'd 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 Kates, and therefore, Kate,
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation-
Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,
Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,
Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife.
KATHERINA
Mov'd! in good time! Let him that mov'd you hither
Remove you hence. I knew you at the first
You were a moveable.
PETRUCHIO
Why, what's a moveable?
KATHERINA
A join'd-stool.
PETRUCHIO
Thou hast hit it. Come, sit on me.
KATHERINA
Asses are made to bear, and so are you.
PETRUCHIO
Women are made to bear, and so are you.
KATHERINA
No such jade as you, if me you mean.
PETRUCHIO
Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee!
For, knowing thee to be but young and light-
KATHERINA
Too light for such a swain as you to catch;
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.
PETRUCHIO
Should be! should- buzz!
KATHERINA
Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.
PETRUCHIO
O, slow-wing'd turtle, shall a buzzard take thee?
KATHERINA
Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.
PETRUCHIO
Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry.
KATHERINA
If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
PETRUCHIO
My remedy is then to pluck it out.
KATHERINA
Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies.
PETRUCHIO
Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting?
In his tail.
KATHERINA
In his tongue.
PETRUCHIO
Whose tongue?
KATHERINA
Yours, if you talk of tales; and so farewell.
PETRUCHIO
What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again,
Good Kate; I am a gentleman.
KATHERINA
That I'll try.
[She strikes him]
PETRUCHIO
I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again.
KATHERINA
So may you lose your arms.
If you strike me, you are no gentleman;
And if no gentleman, why then no arms.
PETRUCHIO
A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books!
KATHERINA
What is your crest- a coxcomb?
PETRUCHIO
A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.
KATHERINA
No cock of mine: you crow too like a craven.
PETRUCHIO
Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour.
KATHERINA
It is my fashion, when I see a crab.
PETRUCHIO
Why, here's no crab; and therefore look not sour.
KATHERINA
There is, there is.
PETRUCHIO
Then show it me.
KATHERINA
Had I a glass I would.
PETRUCHIO
What, you mean my face?
KATHERINA
Well aim'd of such a young one.
PETRUCHIO
Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.
KATHERINA
Yet you are wither'd.
PETRUCHIO
'Tis with cares.
KATHERINA
I care not.
PETRUCHIO
Nay, hear you, Kate- in sooth, you scape not so.
KATHERINA
I chafe you, if I tarry; let me go.
PETRUCHIO
No, not a whit; I find you passing gentle.
'Twas 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 springtime 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 sland'rous world! Kate like the hazel-twig
Is straight and slender, and as brown in hue
As hazel-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels.
O, let me see thee walk. Thou dost not halt.
KATHERINA
Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command.
PETRUCHIO
Did ever Dian so become a grove
As Kate this chamber with her princely gait?
O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate;
And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportful!
KATHERINA
Where did you study all this goodly speech?
PETRUCHIO
It is extempore, from my mother wit.
KATHERINA
A witty mother! witless else her son.
PETRUCHIO
Am I not wise?
KATHERINA
Yes, keep you warm.
PETRUCHIO
Marry, so I mean, sweet Katherine, in thy bed.
And therefore, setting all this chat aside,
Thus in plain terms: 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 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 Kate to a Kate
Conformable as other household Kates.
Re-enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and TRANIO
Here comes your father. Never make denial;
I must and will have Katherine to my wife.
BAPTISTA
Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?
PETRUCHIO
How but well, sir? how but well?
It were impossible I should speed amiss.
BAPTISTA
Why, how now, daughter Katherine, in your dumps?
KATHERINA
Call you me daughter? Now I promise you
You have show'd 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.
PETRUCHIO
Father, 'tis thus: yourself and all the world
That talk'd of her have talk'd 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.
KATHERINA
I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first.
GREMIO
Hark, Petruchio; she says she'll see thee hang'd first.
TRANIO
Is this your speeding? Nay, then good-night our part!
PETRUCHIO
Be patient, gentlemen. I choose her for myself;
If she and I be pleas'd, what's that to you?
'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
That she shall still be curst in company.
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 Katherine shall be fine.
BAPTISTA
I know not what to say; but give me your hands.
God send you joy, Petruchio! 'Tis a match.
GREMIO, TRANIO. Amen, say we; we will be witnesses.
PETRUCHIO
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 a Sunday.
Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHERINA severally
GREMIO
Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly?
BAPTISTA
Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part,
And venture madly on a desperate mart.
TRANIO
'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you;
'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.
BAPTISTA
The gain I seek is quiet in the match.
GREMIO
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.
TRANIO
And I am one that love Bianca more
Than words can witness or your thoughts can guess.
GREMIO
Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I.
TRANIO
Greybeard, thy love doth freeze.
GREMIO
But thine doth fry.
Skipper, stand back; 'tis age that nourisheth.
TRANIO
But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth.
BAPTISTA
Content you, gentlemen; I will compound this strife.
'Tis deeds must win the prize, and he of both
That can assure my daughter greatest dower
Shall have my Bianca's love.
Say, Signior Gremio, what can you assure her?
GREMIO
First, as you know, my house within the city
Is richly furnished with plate and gold,
Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands;
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;
In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns;
In cypress chests my arras counterpoints,
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl,
Valance of Venice gold in needle-work;
Pewter and brass, and all things that belongs
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.
TRANIO
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's 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 pinch'd you, Signior Gremio?
GREMIO
Two thousand ducats by the year of land!
[Aside] 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 chok'd you with an argosy?
TRANIO
Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less
Than three great argosies, besides two galliasses,
And twelve tight galleys. These I will assure her,
And twice as much whate'er thou off'rest next.
GREMIO
Nay, I have off'red 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.
TRANIO
Why, then the maid is mine from all the world
By your firm promise; Gremio is out-vied.
BAPTISTA
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?
TRANIO
That's but a cavil; he is old, I young.
GREMIO
And may not young men die as well as old?
BAPTISTA
Well, gentlemen,
I am thus resolv'd: on Sunday next you know
My daughter Katherine 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.
GREMIO
Adieu, good neighbour. Exit BAPTISTA
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
TRANIO
A vengeance on your crafty withered hide!
Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten.
'Tis in my head to do my master good:
I see no reason but suppos'd Lucentio
Must get a father, call'd suppos'd Vincentio;
And that's a wonder- fathers commonly
Do get their children; but in this case of wooing
A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning.
Exit
William Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew. Act II, scene 1.
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