Puslapio vaizdai

Bap. Lucentio is your name? of whence I pray? Tra. Of Pifa, Sir, fon to Vincentio.

Bap. A mighty man of Pifa; by Report

I know him well; you are very welcome, Sir. Take You the lute, and You the Set of books, [To Hortenfio and Lucentio.

You fhall go fee your pupils presently.

Holla, within!

Enter a Servant.

Sirrah, lead these gentlemen

To my two daughters; and then tell them Both,
These are their tutors, bid them use them well.

[Exit Serv. with Hortenfio and Lucentio. We will go walk a little in the orchard,

And then to dinner. You are paffing welcome,
And fo, I pray you all, to think yourselves.

Pet. Signior Baptifta, my business afketh hafle,
And every day I cannot come to wooe.
You knew my father well, and in him me,
Left folely heir to all his lands and goods,
Which I have better'd, rather than decreas'd;
Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love,
What dowry fhall I have with her to wife?

Bap. After my death, the one half of my lands:
And, in poffeffion, twenty thousand crowns.
Pet. And, for that dowry, I'll affure her of
Her widowhood, be it that she furvive me,
In all my lands and leafes whatsoever;
Let specialties be therefore drawn between us,
That covenants may be kept on either hand.

Bap. Ay, when the fpecial thing is well obtain'd, 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 the proud-minded. And where two raging fires meet together,

They do confume the thing that feeds their fury;

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Tho' little fire grows great with little wind,
Yet extream gufts will blow out fire and all :
So I to her, and fo fhe yields to me,

For I am rough, and wooe not like a babe.

Bap. Well may'ft thou wooe, and happy be thy speed!

But be thou arm'd for fome unhappy words.

Pet. Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds, That fhake not, tho' they blow perpetually.

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Enter Hortenfio with his head broke.

Bap. How now, my friend, why dost thou look fa pale?

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

Hor. I think, fhe'll fooner prove a foldier;

Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.

Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute? Hor. Why, no; for fhe hath broke the lute to me. I did but tell her fhe miftook her frets,

And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering,

When, with a moft impatient devilish spirit,

Frets call you them? quoth fhe: I'll fume with them.
And with that word fhe ftruck me on the head,
And through the inftrument my Pate made way,
And there I ftood amazed for a while,

As on a pillory, looking through the lute:
While the did call me rafcal, fidler,

And twangling Jack, with twenty fuch vile terms,
As fhe had ftudied to mifufe me fo.

Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lufty wench;
I love her ten times more than e'er I did;
Oh, how I long to have fome chat with her!

Bap. Well, go with me, and be not fo difcomfited,
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 fhall I fend my daughter Kate to you?
Pet. I pray you, do. I will attend her here,

[Exit Bap. with Grem. Horten. and Tranio.
And wooe her with fome fpirit when she comes.
Say, that fhe rail; why, then I'll tell her plain,
She fings as fweetly as a nightingale :

Say, that the frowns; I'll fay, the looks as clear
As morning roses newly wafh'd with dew;
Say, the be mute, and will not fpeak a word;
Then I'll commend her volubility;

And fay, the uttereth piercing eloquence:
If fhe do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks,
As tho' fhe bid me stay by her a week;
If the deny to wed, I'll crave the day

When I shall ask the banns, and when be married ?
But here fhe comes, and now, Petruchio, speak.


Enter Catharina.

Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear. Cath. Well have you heard, but fomething hard of hearing.

They call me Catharine, that do talk of me.

Pet. You lye, in faith, for you are call'd plain Kate. And bonny Kate, and fometimes Kate the curft: But Kate, the prettiest Kate in christendom, Kate of Kate-ball, my fuper-dainty Kate, (For dainties are all Cates) and therefore Kate; Take this of me, Kate of my confolation! Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every Town, Thy virtues fpoke of, and thy beauty founded, Yet not fo deeply as to thee belongs : Myself am mov'd to wooe thee for my wife.

Cath. 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.

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Pet. Why, what's a moveable?

Cath. A join'd stool.

Pet. Thou haft hit it; come, fit on me.
Cath. Affes are made to bear, and fo are you.

Pet. Women are made to bear, and fo are you.
Cath. No fuch jade, Sir, as you; if me you mean,
Pet. Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee;
For knowing thee to be but young and light-
Cath. Too light for fuch a fwain as you to catch;
And yet as heavy as my weight fhould be.
-fhould buz.

Pet. Should bee ;

Cath. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.

Pet. Oh, flow-wing'd turtle, fhall a buzzard take thee?

Cath. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard. *
Pet. Come, come, you wasp, i'faith, you are too angry,
Cath. If I be wafpifh, beft beware my fting.
Pet. My Remedy is then to pluck it out.

Cath. Ah, if the fool could find it, where it lies. Pet. Who knows not, where a wafp doth wear his fting?

In his tail.

Cath. In his tongue.

Pet. Whofe tongue?

Cath. Yours, if you talk of tails; and fo farewel. Pet. What with my tongue in your tail? nay, come


Good Kate, I am a gentleman.

Cath. That I'll try.

[She ftrikes him.

Pet. I fwear, I'll cuff

you, if you

trike again.


Cath. So may you lofe your arms;

you ftrike me, you are no gentleman;

And if no gentleman, why then, no arms.

Pet. A herald, Kate? oh, put me in thy books. Cath. What is your creft, a coxcomb?

Ay, for a turtle, as he takes
a buzzard.] Perhaps we

may read better,
Ay, for a turtle, and he takes a


That is, he may take me for a turtle, and he shall find me a hawk.

· Pet.

Pet. A comblefs cock, fo Kate will be my hen.
Cath. No cock of mine, you crow too like a craven.
Pet. Nay, come, Kate; come, you must not look
fo fower.

Cath. It is my fashion when I fee a crab.

Pet. Why, here's no crab, and therefore look not fo fower.

Cath. There is, there is.

Pet. Then, fhew it me,

Catb. Had I a glafs, I would.

Pet. What, you mean my face?

Cath. Well aim'd of fuch a young one.

Pet. Now by St. George, I am too young for you.
Cath. Yet you are wither'd.

Pet. 'Tis with Cares.

Cath. I care not.

Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate; in footh, you 'scape not fo.

Cath. I chafe you if I tarry; let me go.

Pet. No, not a whit; I find you paffing gentle : 'Twas told me, you were rough, and coy, and fullen, And now I find Report a very liar;

For thou art pleasant, gamefom, paffing courteous,
But flow in fpeech, yet fweet as fpring-time flowers.
Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look afcance,
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,
Nor haft thou pleasure to be crofs in talk:
But thou with mildness entertain'ft thy wooers,
With gentle conf'rence, foft and affable.

Why doth the world report, that Kate doth limp?
Oh fland'rous world! Kate, like the hazle-twig,
Is ftrait and flender; and as brown in hue
As hazle-nuts, and fweeter than the kernels.
O, let me fee thee walk; thou doft not halt.

Cath. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'ft command.
Pet. Did ever Dian fo become a grove,

As Kate this chamber with her princely gaite?
O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate,


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