1    Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,
2    To make a bondmaid and a slave of me;
3    That I disdain: but for these other gawds,
4    Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself,
5    Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat;
6    Or what you will command me will I do,
7    So well I know my duty to my elders.

8    Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell
9    Whom thou lovest best: see thou dissemble not.

10   Believe me, sister, of all the men alive
11   I never yet beheld that special face
12   Which I could fancy more than any other.

13   Minion, thou liest. Is't not Hortensio?

14   If you affect him, sister, here I swear
15   I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have
16   him.

17   O then, belike, you fancy riches more:
18   You will have Gremio to keep you fair.

19   Is it for him you do envy me so?
20   Nay then you jest, and now I well perceive
21   You have but jested with me all this while:
22   I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands.

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

24   Why, how now, dame! whence grows this insolence?
25   Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl! she weeps.
26   Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her.
27   For shame, thou helding of a devilish spirit,
28   Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee?
29   When did she cross thee with a bitter word?

30   Her silence flouts me, and I'll be revenged.

31   What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in.

32   What, will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see
33   She is your treasure, she must have a husband;
34   I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day
35   And for your love to her lead apes in hell.
36   Talk not to me: I will go sit and weep
37   Till I can find occasion of revenge.

38   Was ever gentleman thus grieved as I?
39   But who comes here?

40   Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.

41   Good morrow, neighbour Gremio.
42   God save you, gentlemen!

43   And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter
44   Call'd Katharina, fair and virtuous?

45   I have a daughter, sir, called Katharina.

46   You are too blunt: go to it orderly.

47   You wrong me, Signior Gremio: give me leave.
48   I am a gentleman of Verona, sir,
49   That, hearing of her beauty and her wit,
50   Her affability and bashful modesty,
51   Her wondrous qualities and mild behavior,
52   Am bold to show myself a forward guest
53   Within your house, to make mine eye the witness
54   Of that report which I so oft have heard.
55   And, for an entrance to my entertainment,
56   I do present you with a man of mine,
Presenting HORTENSIO
57   Cunning in music and the mathematics,
58   To instruct her fully in those sciences,
59   Whereof I know she is not ignorant:
60   Accept of him, or else you do me wrong:
61   His name is Licio, born in Mantua.

62   You're welcome, sir; and he, for your good sake.
63   But for my daughter Katharina, this I know,
64   She is not for your turn, the more my grief.

65   I see you do not mean to part with her,
66   Or else you like not of my company.

67   Mistake me not; I speak but as I find.
68   Whence are you, sir? what may I call your name?

69   Petruchio is my name; Antonio's son,
70   A man well known throughout all Italy.

71   I know him well: you are welcome for his sake.

72   Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,
73   Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too:
74   Baccare! you are marvellous forward.

75   O, pardon me, Signior Gremio; I would fain be doing.

76   I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your
77   wooing. Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am
78   sure of it. To express the like kindness, myself,
79   that have been more kindly beholding to you than
80   any, freely give unto you this young scholar,
Presenting LUCENTIO
81   that hath been long studying at Rheims; as cunning
82   in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as the other
83   in music and mathematics: his name is Cambio; pray,
84   accept his service.

85   A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio.
86   Welcome, good Cambio.
To TRANIO
87   But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger:
88   may I be so bold to know the cause of your coming?

89   Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own,
90   That, being a stranger in this city here,
91   Do make myself a suitor to your daughter,
92   Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous.
93   Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me,
94   In the preferment of the eldest sister.
95   This liberty is all that I request,
96   That, upon knowledge of my parentage,
97   I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo
98   And free access and favour as the rest:
99   And, toward the education of your daughters,
100  I here bestow a simple instrument,
101  And this small packet of Greek and Latin books:
102  If you accept them, then their worth is great.

103  Lucentio is your name; of whence, I pray?

104  Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio.

105  A mighty man of Pisa; by report
106  I know him well: you are very welcome, sir,
107  Take you the lute, and you the set of books;
108  You shall go see your pupils presently.
109  Holla, within!
Enter a Servant
110  Sirrah, lead these gentlemen
111  To my daughters; and tell them both,
112  These are their tutors: bid them use them well.
113  We will go walk a little in the orchard,
114  And then to dinner. You are passing welcome,
115  And so I pray you all to think yourselves.

116  Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,
117  And every day I cannot come to woo.
118  You knew my father well, and in him me,
119  Left solely heir to all his lands and goods,
120  Which I have better'd rather than decreased:
121  Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love,
122  What dowry shall I have with her to wife?

123  After my death the one half of my lands,
124  And in possession twenty thousand crowns.

125  And, for that dowry, I'll assure her of
126  Her widowhood, be it that she survive me,
127  In all my lands and leases whatsoever:
128  Let specialties be therefore drawn between us,
129  That covenants may be kept on either hand.

130  Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd,
131  That is, her love; for that is all in all.

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

140  Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed!
141  But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words.

142  Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds,
143  That shake not, though they blow perpetually.

144  How now, my friend! why dost thou look so pale?

145  For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.

146  What, will my daughter prove a good musician?

147  I think she'll sooner prove a soldier
148  Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.

149  Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute?

150  Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me.
151  I did but tell her she mistook her frets,
152  And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering;
153  When, with a most impatient devilish spirit,
154  'Frets, call you these?' quoth she; 'I'll fume
155  with them:'
156  And, with that word, she struck me on the head,
157  And through the instrument my pate made way;
158  And there I stood amazed for a while,
159  As on a pillory, looking through the lute;
160  While she did call me rascal fiddler
161  And twangling Jack; with twenty such vile terms,
162  As had she studied to misuse me so.

163  Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench;
164  I love her ten times more than e'er I did:
165  O, how I long to have some chat with her!

166  Well, go with me and be not so discomfited:
167  Proceed in practise with my younger daughter;
168  She's apt to learn and thankful for good turns.
169  Signior Petruchio, will you go with us,
170  Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?

171  I pray you do.
Exeunt all but PETRUCHIO
172  I will attend her here,
173  And woo her with some spirit when she comes.
174  Say that she rail; why then I'll tell her plain
175  She sings as sweetly as a nightingale:
176  Say that she frown, I'll say she looks as clear
177  As morning roses newly wash'd with dew:
178  Say she be mute and will not speak a word;
179  Then I'll commend her volubility,
180  And say she uttereth piercing eloquence:
181  If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks,
182  As though she bid me stay by her a week:
183  If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day
184  When I shall ask the banns and when be married.
185  But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak.
Enter KATHARINA
186  Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear.

187  Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:
188  They call me Katharina that do talk of me.

189  You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain Kate,
190  And bonny Kate and sometimes Kate the curst;
191  But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom
192  Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate,
193  For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate,
194  Take this of me, Kate of my consolation;
195  Hearing thy mildness praised in every town,
196  Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,
197  Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,
198  Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.

199  Moved! in good time: let him that moved you hither
200  Remove you hence: I knew you at the first
201  You were a moveable.

202  Why, what's a moveable?

203  A join'd-stool.

204  Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me.

205  Asses are made to bear, and so are you.

206  Women are made to bear, and so are you.

207  No such jade as you, if me you mean.

208  Alas! good Kate, I will not burden thee;
209  For, knowing thee to be but young and light--

210  Too light for such a swain as you to catch;
211  And yet as heavy as my weight should be.

212  Should be! should--buzz!

213  Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.

214  O slow-wing'd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee?

215  Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.

216  Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry.

217  If I be waspish, best beware my sting.

218  My remedy is then, to pluck it out.

219  Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies,

220  Who knows not where a wasp does
221  wear his sting? In his tail.

222  In his tongue.

223  Whose tongue?

224  Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell.

225  What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again,
226  Good Kate; I am a gentleman.

227  That I'll try.

228  I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again.

229  So may you lose your arms:
230  If you strike me, you are no gentleman;
231  And if no gentleman, why then no arms.

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

233  What is your crest? a coxcomb?

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

235  No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven.

236  Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour.

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

238  Why, here's no crab; and therefore look not sour.

239  There is, there is.

240  Then show it me.

241  Had I a glass, I would.

242  What, you mean my face?

243  Well aim'd of such a young one.

244  Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.

245  Yet you are wither'd.

246  'Tis with cares.

247  I care not.

248  Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth you scape not so.

249  I chafe you, if I tarry: let me go.

250  No, not a whit: I find you passing gentle.
251  'Twas told me you were rough and coy and sullen,
252  And now I find report a very liar;
253  For thou are pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous,
254  But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers:
255  Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance,
256  Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,
257  Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk,
258  But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers,
259  With gentle conference, soft and affable.
260  Why does the world report that Kate doth limp?
261  O slanderous world! Kate like the hazel-twig
262  Is straight and slender and as brown in hue
263  As hazel nuts and sweeter than the kernels.
264  O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt.

265  Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command.

266  Did ever Dian so become a grove
267  As Kate this chamber with her princely gait?
268  O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate;
269  And then let Kate be chaste and Dian sportful!

270  Where did you study all this goodly speech?

271  It is extempore, from my mother-wit.

272  A witty mother! witless else her son.

273  Am I not wise?

274  Yes; keep you warm.

275  Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharina, in thy bed:
276  And therefore, setting all this chat aside,
277  Thus in plain terms: your father hath consented
278  That you shall be my wife; your dowry 'greed on;
279  And, Will you, nill you, I will marry you.
280  Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn;
281  For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty,
282  Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well,
283  Thou must be married to no man but me;
284  For I am he am born to tame you Kate,
285  And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate
286  Conformable as other household Kates.
287  Here comes your father: never make denial;
288  I must and will have Katharina to my wife.

289  Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?

290  How but well, sir? how but well?
291  It were impossible I should speed amiss.

292  Why, how now, daughter Katharina! in your dumps?

293  Call you me daughter? now, I promise you
294  You have show'd a tender fatherly regard,
295  To wish me wed to one half lunatic;
296  A mad-cup ruffian and a swearing Jack,
297  That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.

298  Father, 'tis thus: yourself and all the world,
299  That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her:
300  If she be curst, it is for policy,
301  For she's not froward, but modest as the dove;
302  She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;
303  For patience she will prove a second Grissel,
304  And Roman Lucrece for her chastity:
305  And to conclude, we have 'greed so well together,
306  That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.

307  I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first.

308  Hark, Petruchio; she says she'll see thee
309  hang'd first.

310  Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night our part!

311  Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for myself:
312  If she and I be pleased, what's that to you?
313  'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
314  That she shall still be curst in company.
315  I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe
316  How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate!
317  She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss
318  She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath,
319  That in a twink she won me to her love.
320  O, you are novices! 'tis a world to see,
321  How tame, when men and women are alone,
322  A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.
323  Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice,
324  To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day.
325  Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests;
326  I will be sure my Katharina shall be fine.

327  I know not what to say: but give me your hands;
328  God send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match.

329  Amen, say we: we will be witnesses.

330  Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu;
331  I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace:
332  We will have rings and things and fine array;
333  And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o'Sunday.

334  Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly?

335  Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part,
336  And venture madly on a desperate mart.

337  'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you:
338  'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.

339  The gain I seek is, quiet in the match.

340  No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch.
341  But now, Baptists, to your younger daughter:
342  Now is the day we long have looked for:
343  I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.

344  And I am one that love Bianca more
345  Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.

346  Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I.

347  Graybeard, thy love doth freeze.

348  But thine doth fry.
349  Skipper, stand back: 'tis age that nourisheth.

350  But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth.

351  Content you, gentlemen: I will compound this strife:
352  'Tis deeds must win the prize; and he of both
353  That can assure my daughter greatest dower
354  Shall have my Bianca's love.
355  Say, Signior Gremio, What can you assure her?

356  First, as you know, my house within the city
357  Is richly furnished with plate and gold;
358  Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands;
359  My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;
360  In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns;
361  In cypress chests my arras counterpoints,
362  Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
363  Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl,
364  Valance of Venice gold in needlework,
365  Pewter and brass and all things that belong
366  To house or housekeeping: then, at my farm
367  I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
368  Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls,
369  And all things answerable to this portion.
370  Myself am struck in years, I must confess;
371  And if I die to-morrow, this is hers,
372  If whilst I live she will be only mine.

373  That 'only' came well in. Sir, list to me:
374  I am my father's heir and only son:
375  If I may have your daughter to my wife,
376  I'll leave her houses three or four as good,
377  Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
378  Old Signior Gremio has in Padua;
379  Besides two thousand ducats by the year
380  Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure.
381  What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio?

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

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

391  Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more;
392  And she can have no more than all I have:
393  If you like me, she shall have me and mine.

394  Why, then the maid is mine from all the world,
395  By your firm promise: Gremio is out-vied.

396  I must confess your offer is the best;
397  And, let your father make her the assurance,
398  She is your own; else, you must pardon me,
399  if you should die before him, where's her dower?

400  That's but a cavil: he is old, I young.

401  And may not young men die, as well as old?

402  Well, gentlemen,
403  I am thus resolved: on Sunday next you know
404  My daughter Katharina is to be married:
405  Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca
406  Be bride to you, if you this assurance;
407  If not, Signior Gremio:
408  And so, I take my leave, and thank you both.

409  Adieu, good neighbour.
Exit BAPTISTA
410  Now I fear thee not:
411  Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool
412  To give thee all, and in his waning age
413  Set foot under thy table: tut, a toy!
414  An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy.

415  A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide!
416  Yet I have faced it with a card of ten.
417  'Tis in my head to do my master good:
418  I see no reason but supposed Lucentio
419  Must get a father, call'd 'supposed Vincentio;'
420  And that's a wonder: fathers commonly
421  Do get their children; but in this case of wooing,
422  A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning.