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:
Baccare! 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, with LUCENTIO and HORTENSIO, BIONDELLO following
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 better’d rather than decreased:
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 specialties 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 had she 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 practise 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 will 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; and now, Petruchio, speak.
Enter KATHARINA
Good morrow, Kate; for that’s your name, I hear.
KATHARINA Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:
They call me Katharina 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 praised in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,
Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,
Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.
KATHARINA Moved! in good time: let him that moved you hither
Remove you hence: I knew you at the first
You were a moveable.
PETRUCHIO Why, what’s a moveable?
KATHARINA A join’d-stool.
PETRUCHIO Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me.
KATHARINA Asses are made to bear, and so are you.
PETRUCHIO Women are made to bear, and so are you.
KATHARINA 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–
KATHARINA Too light for such a swain as you to catch;
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.
PETRUCHIO Should be! should–buzz!
KATHARINA Well ta’en, and like a buzzard.
PETRUCHIO O slow-wing’d turtle! shall a buzzard take thee?
KATHARINA Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.
PETRUCHIO Come, come, you wasp; i’ faith, you are too angry.
KATHARINA If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
PETRUCHIO My remedy is then, to pluck it out.
KATHARINA Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies,
PETRUCHIO Who knows not where a wasp does
wear his sting? In his tail.
KATHARINA In his tongue.
PETRUCHIO Whose tongue?
KATHARINA Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell.
PETRUCHIO What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again,
Good Kate; I am a gentleman.
KATHARINA That I’ll try.
She strikes him
PETRUCHIO I swear I’ll cuff you, if you strike again.
KATHARINA 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!
KATHARINA What is your crest? a coxcomb?
PETRUCHIO A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.
KATHARINA No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven.
PETRUCHIO Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour.
KATHARINA It is my fashion, when I see a crab.
PETRUCHIO Why, here’s no crab; and therefore look not sour.
KATHARINA There is, there is.
PETRUCHIO Then show it me.
KATHARINA Had I a glass, I would.
PETRUCHIO What, you mean my face?
KATHARINA Well aim’d of such a young one.
PETRUCHIO Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.
KATHARINA Yet you are wither’d.