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.

Bap. Well mayst thou woo, and happy by 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.

Re-enter HORTENSIO, with his head broken.

Bap. How now, my friend? why dost thou look so pale?
Hor. For fear, I promise you, if I look palę.

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 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 she had studied to misuse me so.

Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench;

I love her ten times more then e'er I did:

O, how I long to have some chat with her!

Bap. Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited:
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 BAPTISTA, GREMIO, TRANIO, and HORTENSIO.

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.

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 curst;
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 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.

Kath. Moved! in good time: let him that moved you hither, Remove you hence: I knew you at the first,

You were a moveable.

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.
Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are you.
Kath. No such jade, Sir, as you, if me 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 buz.

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 buzzard.

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.

Pet. Who knows not where a wasp doth wear his sting? In his tail.

Kath. In his tongue.

Pet. Whose tongue?

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

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

Good Kate; I am a gentleman.

Kath. That I'll try.

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.

[Striking him.

Kath. No cock of mine, you crow too like a craven.

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

For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous;
But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers:
Thou canst not frown, thou oanst not look askance,
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, and sweeter than the kernels.
O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt.
Kath. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st, command.
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 sportful!

Kath. Where did you study all this goodly speech?
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 consented
That you shall be my wife; your dowry 'greed on;
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

* For.

Conformable, as other household Kates.
Here comes your father; never make denial,
I must and will have Katharine to my wife.

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? Kath. Call you me, daughter ? now I promise you, 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 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 have 'greed so well together,
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 thee hang'd first. Tra. Is this your speeding? nay, then good night our part! Pet. Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for myself;

If she and I be pleased, 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 loves 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 curstest 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, Petruchio! 'tis a match.

Gre. Tra. Amen, say we; we will be witnesses.
Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu;

I will to Venice, Sunday comes apace :

* Wagered, as at cards.

+ Well worth.

+ Effeminate.

We will have rings, and things, and fine array;
And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o' Sunday.

[Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA severally. Gre. Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly? Bap. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant'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.
Gre. Youngling! thou canst not love so dear as I.
Tra. Grey-beard! thy love doth freeze.

Gre. But thine doth fry.

Skipper, stand back; 'tis age, that nourisheth.

Tra. But youth, in ladies' eyes that flourisheth.

Bap. Content you, gentlemen; I'll compound this strife:
"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 arras, counterpoints,†
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,

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 farin
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Sixscore 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.
Tra. That only, came well in-
I am my father's 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,

-Sir, list to me,

* Probably the tapestry of Tiria, in Natolia, is here referred to. + Counterpanes.