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Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew

==========

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT III.

SCENE II.— The same. Before  BAPTISTA’s

House

Enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, TRANIO, KATHARINE,

BIANCA, LUCENTIO, and Attendants.

Bap. Signior Lucentio [to TRANIO], this is the

‘pointed day

That Katharine and Petruchio should be married,

And yet we hear not of our son-in-law:

What will be said? what mocker will it be,

To want the bridegroom when the priest at-

tends

To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage?

What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?

Kath. No shame but mine: I must, forsooth,

be forc’d

To give my hand, oppos’d against my heart,

Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen;

Who woo’d in haste, and means to wed at

leisure.

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 mar-

riage,                                             [banns;

Make friends, invite them, and proclaim the

Yet never means to wed where he hath woo’d.

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 Bap-

tista 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 very saint,

Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.

Enter BIONDELLO.

Bion. Master, master! old news, and such

news as you never heard of!              [be?

Bap. Is it new and old too? how may that

Bion. Why, is it not news to hear of Petru-

chio’s coming?

Bap. Is he come?

Bion. Why, no, sir.

Bap. What then?

Bion. He is coming.

Bap. When will he be here?       [you there.

Bion. When he stands where I am, and sees

Tra. But, say, what to thine old news?

Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new

hat and on old jerkin; a pair of old breeches

thrice turn’d; a pair of boots that have been

candle-cases, 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, and stirrups of no kindred;

besides, possessed with the glanders, and like

to mose in the chine; troubled with the lam-

pass, infected with the fashions, fell of wind-

galls, sped with spavins, rayed with the yellows,

past cure of the fives, stark spoiled with the

staggers, begnawn with the bots, swayed in the

back, and shoulder-shotten; ne’er legged before

and with a half-checked 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 pack-

thread.

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 kersey 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 ap-

parel; 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 apparell’d.

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 saint Jamy,

I hold you a penny,

A horse and a man

Is more than one,

And yet not many.

(On 9/02/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Taming of the Shrew”,

We will continue with ACT III. SCENE II.— The same. Before  BAPTISTA’s House.)

Taming of the Shrew - William Shakespeare.jpg

 


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew

==========

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT III.

SCENE I.—PADULA. The same. A Room in BAPTISTA’S

House.

Enter LUCENTIO, HORTENSIO, and BIANCA.

Luc. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward,

sir:

Have eyou so soon forgot the entertainment

Her sister Katherine welcom’d 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 ordain’d!

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 lesson as I please myself.

And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down:—

Take your instrument, play you the whiles;

His lecture will be done ere you have tun’d.

Hor. You’ll leave his lecture when I am in

tune?

[To BIANCA. HORTENSIO retires.

Luc. That will be never:—tune your instru-

ment.

Bian. Where left we last?

Luc. Here, madam:—

Hac ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus;

Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.

Brian. Construe them.

Luc. Hac. ibat, as I told you before,—Simois,

I am Lucentio,—His est, son unto Vincentio of

Pisa,—Sigeia tellus, disguised thus to get your

love;—Hic steterat, and that Lucentio that

comes a-wooing,—Priami, is my man Tranio,

regia, bearing my port,—celsa senis, that we

might beguile the old pantaloon.

Hor. [Coming forward.] Madam, my instru-

ment’s in tune.

Bian. Let’s hear.—         [HORTENSIO plays.

O fie! the treble jars.

Luc. Split in the hole, man, and tune again.

Bian. Now let me see if I can construe it:

Hac ibat Simois, I know you not,—hic est

Sigeia tellus, I trust you not;—Hic steterat

Priami, take heed he hear us not,—regia,  pre-

sume not,—celsa senis, despair not.

Hor. Madam, ’tis now in tune.

Luc.                              All but the base.

Hor. The base is right; ’tis the base knave

that jars.

How fiery and forward our pedant is!

Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love:

Pedascule, I’ll watch you better yet.      [Aside.

Brian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.

Luc. Mistrust it not; for, sure, Æacides

Was Ajax,—call’d so from his grandfather.

Brian. 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 deceiv’d,

Our fine musician groweth amorous.   [Aside.

Hor. Madam, before you touch the instru-

ment,

To learn the order of my fingering,

I must begin with rudiments of art;

To teach you gamut in a briefer sort,

More pleasant, pithy, and effectual,

Than hath been taught by any of my trade:

And there it is in writing, fairly drawn.

Brian. Why , I am past my gamut long ago.

Hor. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.

Bian. [Reads.] Gamut I am, the ground of all

accord,

A re, to plead Hortensio’s passion;

B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord,

C fa ut, that loves with all affection:

D sol re, one cliff, two notes have I’

E la mi, show pity, or I die.

Call you this gamut? tut, I like it not:

Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice,

To change true rules for odd inventions.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Mistress, your father pray you leave

your books,

And help to dress your sister’s chamber up:

You know to-morrow is the wedding-day.

Bian. Farewell, sweet masters, both; I must

be gone!

[Exeunt BIANCA and Servant.

Luc. Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to

stay.                                                [Exit.

Hor. But I have cause to pry into this

pedant;

Methinks he looks as though he were in love:—

Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble,

To cast thy wand’ring eyes on every stale,

Seize thee that list: if once I find thee ranging,

Hortensio will quit with thee by changing,

[Exit.

(On 9/01/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Taming of the Shrew”,

We will continue with ACT III. SCENE I.— PADUA. A Room in BAPTISTA’s House.)

Taming of the Shrew - William Shakespeare.jpg

 


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew

==========

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT II.

SCENE I.—The same. A Room in BAP-

TISTA’S House.

Re-Enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and TRANIO.

Bap. Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you

with my daughter?

Pet. How but well, sir? how but well?

It were impossible I should speed amiss.

Bap. Why, how now, daughter Katharine!

in your dumps?                               [you

Kath. Call you me daughter? now, I promise

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.

Pet. Father, ’tis thus:—yourself and all the

world,

That talked of her, hath 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 to-

gether,

That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.

Kath. I’ll see thee hang’d on Sunday first.

Gre. Hark, Petruchio; she says she’ll see the

hang’d first.

Tra. Is this your speeding? nay, then, good-

night our part!                           [for myself;

Pet. Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her

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 loes 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 curtest

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, Pertuchio! ’tis a match.

Gre. Tra. Amen, say we; we will be wit-

nesses.

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 PET. and KATH., severally.

Gre. Was ever match clapp’d up so suddenly?

Bap. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a mer-

chant’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.                                                 [as I.

Gre. Youngling! thou canst not love so dear

Tra. Graybeard! thy love doth freeze.

Gre.                           But thine doth fry.

Skipper, stand back; ’tis age that nourisheth.

Tra. But youth in ladies eyes that flourish-

eth.                                        [this strife:

Bap. Content you, gentlemen; I’ll compound

‘Tis deeds must win the prize; and he, of both,

That can assure my daughter greatest dower

Shall have Bianca’s love.—

Say, Signior Gremio, what can you assure her?

Gre. 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 erras counterpoints,

Costly apparel, tents, and caopies,

Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss’d with pearl,

Valance of Venice gold in needle-work,

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.    [me:

Tra. That only came well in.—Sir, list to

I am my fathers 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 join-

ture.—

What, have I pinch’d 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 chok’d you with an argosy?

Tra. Gremio, ’tis known my father hath no

less

Than three great argosies; besides two gal-

liases,

And twelve tight galleys: these I will assure

her,

And twice as much, whate’er thou offer’st next.

Gre. Nay, I have offer’d all,—I have no

more;

And she can have no more than 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: Gremios is out-vied.

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 civil; he is old, I young.

Gre. And may not young men die as well as

old?

Bap. Well, gentlemen,

I am thus resolv’d:—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.

Gre. 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 body.

[Exit.

Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither’d

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 suppos’d Lucentio

Must get a father, call’d—suppos’d Vincentio

And that’s a wonder: fathers commontly

Do get their children; but in this case of woo-

ing,

A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my

cunning.                                     [Exit.

 

(On 8/31/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Taming of the Shrew”,

We will begin with ACT III. SCENE I.— PADUA. A Room in BAPTISTA’s House.)

Taming of the Shrew - William Shakespeare.jpg

 


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew

==========

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT II.

SCENE I.—The same. A Room in BAP-

TISTA’S House.

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 call’d plain

Kate,

And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the

cust;

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 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.

Kath.  Mov’d! in good time: let him that

mov’d you hither

Remove you hence: I knew you at the first

You were a movable.

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.

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 buzz.

Kath.            Well ta’en, and like a buzzard.

Pet.  O, slow-wing’d turtle! shall a buzzard

take thee?

Kath. Ay, for a turtle,—as he takes a buz-

zard.

Pet. Come, come, you wasp; i’ faith, you are

too angry.

Kath. If I be waspish, best beware my sting.

Pet. My remedy is then, to pluck it out.

Kath.  Ay, if the fool could find it where it

lies.                         [wear his sting?

Pet. Who knows not where a wasp doth

In his tail.

Kath.    In his tongue.

Pet.                         Whose tongue?

Kath.    Yours, if you talk of tails; and so

farewell.                      [come again,

Pet. What, with my tongue in your tail? nay,

Good Kate; I am a gentleman.

Kath.                                 That I’ll try.

[Striking him.

Pet. I swear I’ll cuff you, if you strike again.

Kath. So may you lose your arms:

If you strike me, you are no gentleman;

And if no gentleman, why then no arms.

Pet. A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books!

Kath. What is your crest? a coxcomb?

Pet. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.

Kath. No cock of mine; you crow too like a

craven.                          [look so sour.

Pet. Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not

Kath. It is my fashion, when I see a crab.

Pet. Why, here’s no crab; and therefore look

not sour.

Kath. There is, there is.

Pet. Then show it me.

Kath.                        Had I a glass I would.

Pet. What, you mean my face?

Kath.        Well aim’d of such a young one.

Pet. Now, by Saint George, I am too young

for you.

Kath. Yet you are wither’d.

Pet.                                 ‘Tis with cares.

Kath.                                     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.

‘Twas told me you were rough, and coy, and

sullen,

And now I find report a very liar;          [teous;

For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing cour-

But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time

flowers:

Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look as-

kance,

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 hazel-nuts, ans sweeter than the kernels.

O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt.

Kath. Go, foo, and whom thou keep’st com-

mand.

Pet. 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 sport-

ful!                                         [speech?

Kath. Where did you study all this goodly

Pet. It is extempore, from my mother-wit.

Kath. A witty mother! witless else her son.

Pet. Am I not wise?

Kath.                     Yes, keep you warm.

Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, in

thy bed:

And therefore, setting all this chat aside,

Thus in plain terms:—Your father hath con-

sented                                    [on;

That you shall be my wife; your dowry ‘greed

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.

Here comes your father; never make denial;

I must and will have Katharine to my wife.

(On 8/30/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Taming of the Shrew”,

We will continue with ACT I!. SCENE I.—The same. A Room in BAPTISTA’s House.)

Taming of the Shrew - William Shakespeare.jpg

 


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew

==========

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT II.

SCENE I.—The same. A Room in BAP-

TISTA’S House.

Re-enter HORTENSIO, with his head broken.

Bap. How now, y 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 how’d her hand to teach her fingering,

When, with a most impatient devilish spirit,

Frets, call you these? quoth she; I’l 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 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 dis-

comfited:

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?

Pet. I pray you do: I will attend her here,

[Exeunt, BAP., GRE., TRA., and HOR.

And woo her with some spirit when she comes.

Say that she rail; why, then I’ll tell her plan

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 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.

(On 8/29/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Taming of the Shrew”,

We will continue with ACT I!. SCENE I.—The same. A Room in BAPTISTA’s House.)

Taming of the Shrew - William Shakespeare.jpg

 


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew

==========

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT II.

SCENE I.—The same. A Room in BAP-

TISTA’S House.

   Pet. I see you do not mean to part with her;

Or else you like not of my company.

Bap. Mistake me not, I speak but as I find.

Whence are you, sir? what may I call your

name?

Pet. Petruchio is my name; Antonio’s son,

A man well known throughout all Italy.

Bap. I know him well: you are welcome for

his sake.

Gre. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,

Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too:

Beccare! you are marvellous forward.

Pet. O, pardon me, Signior Gremio: I would

fain be doing.

Gre. 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, I freely give unto you this young

scholar [presenting LUCENTIO], that hath been

long studying at Rheims; as the other in

music and mathematics: his name is Cambio;

pray, accept his service.

Bap. A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio:

welcome, good Cambio.—But, gentle sir [to

TRANIO], methinks you walk like a stranger.

May I be so bold to know the cause of your

coming?                                          [own;

Tra. Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine

That, being a stranger in this city here,

Do make myself a suitor to your daughter,

Unto Bianco, fair and virtuous.

Nor is your from 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

book;

If you accept them, then their worth is great.

Bap. Lucentio is your name? of whence, I

pray?

Tra. Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio.

Bap. A mighty man of Pisa: by report

I know him well: you are very welcome, sir.—

Take you [to HOR.] the lute, and you [to LUC.]

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 Serv., with HOR., LUC., and BION.

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.

Pet.  Signior Baptista, my business asketh

hastle,

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 better’d rather than decreas’d:

Then tell me,—if I get your daughter’s love,

What dowry shall I have with her to wife?

Bap.  After my death, the one half of my

lands

And, in possession, twenty thousand crowns.

Pet. 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 specialties be therefore drawn between us,

That covenants may be kept on either hand.

Bap. Ay, when the special thing is well ob-

tain’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 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, ad so she yields to me;

For I am rough, and woo not lie a babe.

Bap. Well mayst thou woo, and happy be

thy speed!

But be thou arm’d for some unhappy words.

Pet. Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for

winds,

That shake not though they blow perpetually.

(On 8/28/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Taming of the Shrew”,

We will continue with ACT I!. SCENE I.—The same. A Room in BAPTISTA’s House.)

Taming of the Shrew - William Shakespeare.jpg

 


Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew

==========

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT II.

SCENE I.—The same. A Room in BAP-

TISTA’S House.

Enter KATHARINA and BIANCA.

Bian. 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.

Kath. Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee,

tell

Whom thou lov’st best: see thou dissemble not,

Bian. I believe me, sister, of all the men alive,

I never yet beheld that special face

Which I could fancy more than any other.

Kath. Minion, thou liest; is’t not Hortensio?

Bian. If you affect him, sister, here I swear

I’ll plead for you  myself, but you shall have

him.

Kath. O then, belike, you fancy riches more;

You will have Gremio to keep you fair.

Bian. 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 pr’ythee, sister Kate, untie my hands.

Kath. If that be jest, then all the rest was so.

[Strikes her.

Enter BAPTISTA.

Bap. Why, how now, dame! whence grows

this insolence?

Bianca, stand aside;—poor girl! she weeps:—

Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her.—

For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit,

Why dost thou wrong her that di ne’er wrong

thee?

When did she cross thee with a bitter word?

Kath. Her silence flouts me and I’ll be re-

veng’d.                 [Flies after BIANCA.

Bap. What, in my sight?—Bianca, get thee

in.                                [Exit BIANCA.

Kath. 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 KATHARINA.

Bap. 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, with BIONDELLO bear-

ing a lute and books.

Gre. Good-morrow, neighbour Baptista.

Bap. Good-morrow, neighbour Gremio: God

save you, gentlemen!                  [a daughter

Pet. And you, good sir! Pray, have you not

Call’d Katharina, fair and virtuous?

Bap. I have a daughter, sir, call’d Katharina.

Gre. You are too blunt: go to it orderly.

Pet. 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 wit-

ness

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 Manta.

Bap. You’re welcome, sir; and he for your

good sake;

But for my daughter Katharine,—this I know,

She is not for your turn, the ore my grief.

(On 8/27/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Taming of the Shrew”,

We will continue with ACT I!. SCENE I.—The same. A Room in BAPTISTA’s House.)

Taming of the Shrew - William Shakespeare.jpg