Good-morrow, Kate, for that's your name I hear,
Cath. Well have you heard, but impudently said,
They call me Catbarine, that do talk of me.

Pet. 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.
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation!
Hearing thy mildness prais'd in ev'ry town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,
Thy affability, and bashful modesty,

(Yet not so 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


Remove you hence! I know you at the first,

You were a moveable.

Pet. A moveable? why, what's that?

Catb. A joint-stool.

Pet. Thou hast hit it; come, sit on me.

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

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

Alas, good Kate, I will not burthen thee,
For knowing thee to be but young and light.

Catb. Too light for such a swain as you to catch;



Pet. Come, come you wasp; i'faith you are too angry. Cath. IfI be waspish, 'best beware my sting.

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

Catb. Ay, if the fool cou'd find it where it lies.

Pet. The fool knows where the honey is, sweet Kate.

Catb. 'Tis not for drones to taste.

Pet. That will I try.

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

[Offers to kiss ber.

she strikes bim.

Nay, come; Kate, come; you must not look so sour.
Cath. How can I help it, when I see that face;

But I'll be shock'd no longer with the sight.

Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate, in sooth you 'scape not so.
Catb. I chafe you, IfI 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,

For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous,


But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers;
Thou can'st not frown, thou canʼst not look ascance,
Nor bite the lip as angry wenches will

Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk:
But then with mildness entertain'st thy wooers,
With gentle conf'rence, soft and affable.

Cath. This is beyond all patience; don't provoke me.
Pet. Why doth the world report that Kate doth limp ?
Oh sland'rous world! Kate, like the hazle twig,
Is strait, and slender, and as brown in hue
As hazle nuts, and sweeter than the kernels,
O let me see thee walk, thou do'st not halt.

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

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

And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian' sportful.

Cath. Where did you study all this goodly speech?
Pet. It is extempore, from my mother-wit
Catb. A witty mother, witless else her son.
Pet. Am I not wise?

Catb. Yes, in your own conceit;

Keep yourself warm with that, or else you'll freeze,
Pet. Or rather warm me in thy arms, my Kate!
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.

Cath. Whether I will or no !-O fortune's spite!
Pet. Nay, Kate, I am a husband for your turn;
For by this light, whereby I see thy beauty,
(Thy beauty that deth make me like thee well)
Thou must be married to no man but me;
For I am he am born to tame you, Kate.

Cath. That will admit dispute, my saucy groom,
Pet. here comes your father; never make denial,
I must and will have Cathrine to my wife.

Enter BAPTISta.

Bap. Now, Signior, now; how speed you with my daughter?

Pet. How shou'd I speed but well, Sir? how but well? It were impossible I should speed amiss.


Bapt. Why how now, daughter Catbrine,in your dumps? Cath. Call me daughter? Now I promise you, You've shew'd a tender fatherly regard,

Towish me wed to one half lunatic;

A mad cap ruffian and a swearing jack,

That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.

Bapt. Better this jack than starve, and that's your por


Pet. 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've 'greed so well together,
Wehave fix'd to-morrow for the wedding-day.

Catb. I'll see thee hang'd to-morrow, first-to-morrow]! Bupt. Petruchio, hark; she says she'll see thee hang'd first! Is this your speeding?

Pet. Oh! be patient, Sir;

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 curs'd in company.

Catb. A plague upon his impudence! I'm vex'd—
I'll marry my revenge, but I will tame him.

Pet. I will tell you, 'tis incredible to believe
How much she loves me; Oh! the kindest Kate!
She hung about my neck, and kiss on kiss.
She vy'd so fast, pratesting oath on oath,
That in a twink she won me to her love.
Oh! you are novices; tis a world to see.
How tame, when men and women are alone-
Give me thy hand, Kate, I will now away
To buy apparel för my gentle bride:

Father, provide, the feast; and bid the guests.


Bapt. What dost thou say, my Gatbarine? Give thy hand. Cath Never no man shall Catb’rine give her hand'

Here 'tis and let him take it, an' he dare.

Pat. Were itthe sore foot of an angry bear.

I'd shake it off; but as it is Kate's I kiss it.

Catb You'll kiss it closer, e'er our moon be wain'd.
Bapt. Heav'n send you joy, Petruchiotis a match.


Pet. Father, and wife, adieu.

Unto my country-house, and stir my grooms,
Scower their country-rust, and make 'em fine,
For the reception of my Cutbarine.

We will have rings, and things, and fine array;
To-morrow, Kate, shall be our wedding-day.

[Exit Petruchio.

Bapt. Well, daughter, tho' the man be somewhat wild,
And thereto f: antic, yet his means are great;
Thou hast done well to seize the first kind offer,
For by thy mother's soul 'twill be the last.

Catb. My duty, Sir, hath followed your command.
Bapt. Art thou in earnest? hast no trick behind ?
I'll take thee at thy word, and send t'invite
My son-in-law, Hortensio, and thy sister;
And all our friends to grace thy nuptials, Kate.

[Exit Baptista.

Cath. Why, yes: sister Bianca now shall see
The poor abandon'd Catb'rine, as she calls me.
Can hold her head as high, and be as proud,
And make her husband stoop unto her lure,
As she, or e er a wife in Padua.

As double as my portion be my scorn,
Look to your seat, Petruchio, or I throw you.
Catb'rine shall tame this haggard ;- -or if she fails,
Shall tye her tongue up, and pair down her nails,


[Exit Catharine.


and Attendants.


SIGNIOR Hortensio, this is the appointed day,

That Catb'rine and Petruchio shall be married;

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

What will be said? what mockery will it be,

To want the bridegroom when the priest attends

To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage?

What says Hortensio to th s shame of ours?

Cath. No shame but mine; I must, forsooth'd, 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 better jests in blunt behaviour
And to be noted for a merry man.

He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day or marriage,
Make friends, invite; yea, and proclaim the banes.
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd
Now must the world point at poor Catharine,
And say, lo! there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it please him come and marry her.

Bian. Such hasty matches seldom end in good.
Hort. Patience, good Catb'rine, and Bianca 'too ;
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
Whatever fortune stays him from his world;
Tho' he be blunt, I know him passing wise;
Tho' he be merry, yet withal he's honest.

Cath. Wou'd I had never seen his honesty.-
Oh! I could tear my flesh for very madness.

[Exit. Catharine.

Bapt. Follow your sister, girl, and comfort her.

[Exit Bianca.

I cannot blame thee now to weep and rage,
For such an injury would vex a saint;
Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.
Hort. Was ever match clapt up so suddenly!
Bapt. Hortensio: faith I play a merchant's part.
And venture madly on a desp❜rate mart.

Hort. 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you ;
'Twill bring you gain, or parish on the seas,
Bapt. The gain I seek is quiet in the match.
Hort. No doubt Petruchio's got a quiet catch.
Enter BIONDello.

Bion. Master, master, news; and such news as you never heard of.

Bapt. Is Petruchio come ?

Bion. Why no, Sir.

Bapt. What then!

Bion. He is coming; but how? why in a new hat, and an old Jerkin; a pair of old breeches, thrice turn'd; a pair of boots that have been candle cases, one buckled, another lac'd; an old rusty sword, ta'en out of the town armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless, with two broken points; his horse hip'd with an old mothy saddle; the stirrups of no kindred; besides posses'd with the glanders, and

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