6

Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming in a new hat and an old jerkin; a pair of old breeches thrice turn'd; a pair of boots that have been candle-cafes, one buckled, another lac'd; an old rufty fword ta'en out of the town-armoury, with a broken hilt, and chapeless, with two broken points; his horfe hipp'd with an old mothy faddle, the stirrups of no kindred; befides poffefs'd with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine, troubled with the lampaffe, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls, fped with fpavins, raied with the yellows, paft cure of the fives, ftark spoiled with the flaggers, begnawn with the bots, fway'd in the back and fhoulder-fhotten, near legg'd before, and with a half-check'd bit, and a headftall of fheep's leather; which being reftrain'd, to keep him from ftumbling, hath been often burst, and now repair'd with knots; one girt fix times piec'd, and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her name, fairly fet down in ftuds, and here and there piec'd with 'pack-thread.'

Bap. Who comes with him?

Bion. Oh, Sir, his lackey, for all the world caparifon'd like the horfe, with a linen flock on one leg, and a kerfey boot-hofe on the other, garter'd with a red and blue lift, an old hat, and * the humour of forty fancies prick'd up in't for a feather: a monfter, a very moniter in apparel, and not like a Christian footboy, or a gentleman's lackey.'

Tra. 'Tis fome odd humour pricks him to this fafhion; Yet fometimes he goes but mean apparell'd.

Bap. I am glad he's come, howfoever he comes.
Bion. Why, Sir, he comes not.

Bap. Didit thou not fay, he comes?

Bion. Who? that Petruchio came not?

Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came.

Bion. No, Sir; 1 fay, his horfe comes with him on

his back.

Bap. Why, that's all one.

Bion. Nay, by St. Jamy, I hold you a penny,

A horfe and a man is more than one, and yet not many.

SCENE

* Some ballad or drollery of that time is here ridiculed.

SCENE IV.

Enter Petruchio and Grumio fantastically habited.

Pet. Come, where be thefe gallants? who is at home? Bap. You're welcome, Sir.

Pet. And yet I come not well.

Bap. And yet you halt not.

frown:

Tra. Not fo well 'parell'd as I wish you were.
Pet. Were it better, I fhould rufh in thus.
But where is Kate? where is my lovely bride?
How does my father? Gentles, methinks
And wherefore gaze this goodly company,
As if they faw fome wondrous monument,
Some comet, or unusual prodigy?

you

Bap. Why, Sir, you know, this is your wedding-day: Firft were we fad; fearing you would not come; Now, fadder, that you come fo unprovided.

Fie, doff this habit, fhame to your eftate,

An eye-fore to our folemn festival.

Tra. And tell us what occafion of import
Hath all fo long detain'd you from your wife,
And fent you hither fo unlike yourself?

Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear:
Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word,
Tho' in fome part inforced to digrefs,
Which at more leifure I will fo excuse,
fhall well be fatisfied withal.

As

you

But, where is Kate? 1 ftay too long from her;
The morning wears; 'tis time we were at church.
Tra. See not your bride in these unreverent robes;
Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine.
Pet. Not I; believe me, thus l'll vifit her.
Bap. But thus, I truft, you will not marry
Pet. Good, footh, even thus; therefore ha' done with

words;

To me fhe's married, not unto my clothes:
Could I repair what fhe will wear in me,
As I could change thefe poor accoutrements,
"Twere well for Kate, and better for myself.
But what a fool am I to chat with you,
When I fhould bid good morrow to my bride,

her.

1

And feal the title with a lovely kifs?

Tra. He hath fome meaning in his mad attire:

We will perfuade him, be it poffible,

To put on better ere he go to church.

[Exit.

Bap. I'll after him, and fee the event of this. [Exit.

SCENE V.

Tra. But, Sir, our love concerneth us to add
Her father's liking; which to bring to pass,
As I before imparted to your Worship,

I am to get a man, (whate'er he be,

It skills not much; we'll fit him to our turn;}

And he fhall be Vincentio of Pifa,

And make affurance here in Padua

Of greater fums than I have promifed:
So fhall you quietly enjoy your hope,
fweet Bianca with confent.

And marry
Luc. Were it not that my

fellow-fchoolmafter

Doth watch Bianca's fteps fo narrowly,

'T'were good, methinks, to fteal our marriage;
Which once perform'd, let all the world fay, No,
I'll keep my own, despight of all the world.

Tra. That by degrees we mean to look into,
And watch our vantage in this bufinefs:
We'll over-reach the grey-beard Gremio,
The narrow-prying father Minola,
The quaint musician amorous Licio;
All for my master's fake, Lucentio.

SCENE VI. Enter Gremio.

Now, Signior Gremio, came you from the church?
Gre. As willingly as e'er I came from fchool.
Tra. And is the bride and bridegroom coming home?
Gre. A bridegroom, fay you? 'tis a groom, indeed,
A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find.
Tra. Curfter than fhe? why, 'tis impoffible.
Gre. Why, he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend.
Tra. Why, fhe's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam.
Gre. Tut, fhe's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him.
I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio; when the priest
Should afk, if Catharine should be his wife?

Ay,

Ay, by gogs-woons, quoth he; and fwore fo loud,
That, all-amaz'd, the prieft let fall the book;
And as he ftoop'd again to take it up,

This mad-brain'd bridegroom took him fuch a cuff,
That down fell priest and book, and book and prieft.
Now take them up, quoth he, if any lift.

Tra. What said the wench, when he rose up again? Gre. Trembled and fhook; for why, he ftamp'd and fwore.

As if the vicar meant to cozen him.

But after many ceremonies done,

"He calls for wine: a health, quoth he; as if
"H'ad been abroad carowfing to his mates
"After a ftorm: quaft off the mufcadel,
"And threw the fops all in the fexton's face;
Having no other cause, but that his beard

"Grew thin and hungerly, and feem'd to afk "His fops as he was drinking. This done, he took "The bride about the neck, and kifs'd her lips "With such a clamorous fmack, that at the parting "All the church echo'd ;" and I seeing this, Came thence for very fhame; and after me, 1 know, the rout is coming. Such a mad marriage Ne'er was before.-Hark, hark, I hear the minstrels. [Muhe plays.

SCENE VII.

Enter Petruchio, Catharina, Bianca, Hortenfio, and

Baptifta.

Pet. Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your

pain's!

I know, you think to dine with me to-day,
And have prepar'd great store of wedding-cheer;
But fo it is, my hafte doth call me hence;
And therefore here I mean to take my leave.
Bap. Is't poffible you will away to-night?
Pet. 1 muft away to-day, before night come.
Make it no wonder; if you knew my bufinefs,
You would intreat me rather go than stay.
And, heneil company, I thank you all,

That have beheld me give away myself

To this moft patient, fweet, and virtuous wife.
Dine with my father, drink a health to me,
For I muft hence, and farewell to you all.
Tra. Let us intreat you ftay till after dinner.
Pet. It may not be.

Gre. Let me intreat you.

Pet. It cannot be.

Cath. Let me intreat you.

Pet. I am content

Cath. Are you content to stay?

Pet. I am content you shall intreat me stay;
But yet not stay, intreat me how you can.
Cath. Now, if you love me, stay.

Pet. Grumio, my horfes.

Gru. Ay, Sir, they be ready: the oats have eaten the horfes *.

Cath. Nay, then,

Do what thou canft, I will not go to-day;

No, nor to-morrow, nor till I please myself.
The door is open, Sir, there lies your way,

You may be jogging, while your boots are green;
For me, I'll not go till I please myfelf.
'Tis like you'll prove a jolly furly groom,
That take it on you at the first fo roundly.

Pet. O Kate, content thee, pr'ythee, be not angry,
Cath. I will be angry; what haft thou to do?

Father, be quiet; he fhall ftay my leifure.

Gre. Ay, marry, Sir; now it begins to work.
Cath. Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner,

I fee, a woman may be made a fool,

If fhe had not a spirit to refift.

Pet. They fhall go forward, Kate, at thy command. Obey the bride, you that attend on her:

Go to the feaft, revel and domineer;

Caroufe full measure to her maidenhead;

Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves:

But for my bonny Kate, fhe muft with me.

Nay, look not big, nor ftamp, nor ftare, nor fret,
I will be mafter of what is mine own;

She is my goods, my chattels, fhe is my house,

That is, the distemper fo called.

My