The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  BAPTISTA

  A mighty man of Pisa. By report

  I know him well. You are very welcome, sir.

  (To Hortensio) Take you the lute, (to Lucentio) 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]

  (To Petruccio) 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.

  PETRUCCIO

  Signor 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 bettered 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.

  PETRUCCIO

  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 obtained—

  That is her love, for that is all in all.

  PETRUCCIO

  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 armed for some unhappy words.

  PETRUCCIO

  Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds,

  That shakes not though they blow perpetually.

  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 bowed 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.

  PETRUCCIO

  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 (to Hortensio)

  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.

  Signor Petruccio, will you go with us,

  Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you ?

  PETRUCCIO

  I pray you, do.

  Exeunt all but Petruccio

  I’ll 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 washed 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, Petruccio, speak.

  Enter Katherina

  Good morrow, Kate, for that’s your name, I hear.

  KATHERINE

  Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing.

  They call me Katherine that do talk of me.

  PETRUCCIO

  You lie, in faith, for you are called 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.

  KATHERINE

  Moved? In good time. Let him that moved you hither

  Re-move you hence. I knew you at the first

  You were a movable.

  PETRUCCIO

  Why, what’s a movable?

  KATHERINE

  A joint-stool.

  PETRUCCIO

  Thou hast hit it. Come, sit on me.

  KATHERINE

  Asses are made to bear, and so are you.

  PETRUCCIO

  Women are made to bear, and so are you.

  KATHERINE

  No such jade as you, if me you mean.

  PETRUCCIO

  Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee,

  For knowing thee to be but young and light.

  KATHERINE

  Too light for such a swain as you to catch,

  And yet as heavy as my weight should be. 205

  PETRUCCIO

  Should be?—should buzz.

  KATHERINE Well ta’en, and like a buzzard.

  PETRUCCIO

  O slow-winged turtle, shall a buzzard take thee?

  KATHERINE

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

  PETRUCCIO

  Come, come, you wasp, i’faith you are too angry.

  KATHERINE

  If I be waspish, best beware my sting.

  PETRUCCIO

  My remedy is then to pluck it out.

  KATHERINE

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

  PETRUCCIO

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

  KATHERINE In his tongue.

  PETRUCCIO Whose tongue?

  KATHERINE

  Yours, if you talk of tales, and so farewell.

  PETRUCCIO

  What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again, Good Kate, I am a gentleman.

  KATHERINE That I’ll try.

  She strikes him

  PETRUCCIO

  I swear I’ll cuff you if you strike again.

  KATHERINE So may you lose your arms.
/>   If you strike me you are no gentleman,

  And if no gentleman, why then, no arms.

  PETRUCCIO

  A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books.

  KATHERINE What is your crest—a coxcomb?

  PETRUCCIO

  A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.

  KATHERINE

  No cock of mine. You crow too like a craven.

  PETRUCCIO

  Nay, come, Kate, come. You must not look so sour.

  KATHERINE

  It is my fashion when I see a crab.

  PETRUCCIO

  Why, here’s no crab, and therefore look not sour.

  KATHERINE There is, there is.

  PETRUCCIO Then show it me. 230

  KATHERINE

  Had I a glass I would.

  PETRUCCIO

  What, you mean my face?

  KATHERINE

  Well aimed, of such a young one.

  PETRUCCIO

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

  KATHERINE

  Yet you are withered.

  PETRUCCIO ‘Tis with cares.

  KATHERINE

  I care not.

  PETRUCCIO

  Nay, hear you, Kate. In sooth, you scape not so. 235

  KATHERINE

  I chafe you if I tarry. Let me go.

  PETRUCCIO

  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 springtime flowers.

  Thou canst not frown. Thou canst 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 sland’rous world ! Kate like the hazel twig

  Is straight and slender, and as brown in hue

  As hazelnuts, and sweeter than the kernels.

  O let me see thee walk. Thou dost not halt.

  KATHERINE

  Go, fool, and whom thou keep’st command.

  PETRUCCIO

  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.

  KATHERINE

  Where did you study all this goodly speech?

  PETRUCCIO

  It is extempore, from my mother-wit.

  KATHERINE

  A witty mother, witless else her son.

  PETRUCCIO

  Am I not wise?

  KATHERINE Yes, keep you warm.

  PETRUCCIO

  Marry, so I mean, sweet Katherine, 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,

  Enter Baptista, Gremio, and Tranio as Lucentio

  For I am he am born to tame you, Kate,

  And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate

  Conformable as other household Kates.

  Here comes your father. Never make denial.

  I must and will have Katherine to my wife.

  BAPTISTA Now, Signor Petruccio, how speed you with my daughter? 276

  PETRUCCIO How but well, sir, how but well?

  It were impossible I should speed amiss.

  BAPTISTA

  Why, how now, daughter Katherine—in your dumps?

  KATHERINE

  Call you me daughter? Now I promise you 280

  You have showed a tender fatherly regard,

  To wish me wed to one half-lunatic,

  A madcap ruffian and a swearing Jack,

  That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.

  PETRUCCIO

  Father, ‘tis thus: yourself and all the world 285

  That talked of her have talked 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, 290

  And Roman Lucrece for her chastity.

  And to conclude, we have ’greed so well together

  That upon Sunday is the wedding day.

  KATHERINE

  I’ll see thee hanged on Sunday first.

  GREMIO Hark, Petruccio, she says she’ll see thee hanged first. 296

  TRANIO

  Is this your speeding ? Nay then, goodnight our part.

  PETRUCCIO

  Be patient, gentlemen. I choose her for myself.

  If she and I be pleased, what’s that to you?

  Tis bargained ‘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 I

  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 Katherine shall be fine.

  BAPTISTA

  I know not what to say, but give me your hands.

  God send you joy, Petruccio! ’Tis a match.

  GREMIO and TRANIO

  Amen, say we. We will be witnesses.

  PETRUCCIO

  Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu.

  I will to Venice. Sunday comes apace.

  We will have rings, and things, and fine array;

  And kiss me, Kate. We will be married o’ Sunday.

  Exeunt Petruccio and Katherine, severally

  GREMIO

  Was ever match clapped up so suddenly?

  BAPTISTA

  Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant’s part,

  And venture madly on a desperate mart.

  TRANIO

  ‘Twas a commodity lay fretting by you.

  ’Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.

  BAPTISTA

  The gain I seek is quiet in the match.

  GREMIO

  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.

  TRANIO

  And I am one that love Bianca more

  Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.

  GREMIO

  Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I.

  TRANIO

  Greybeard, thy love doth freeze.

  GREMIO But thine doth fry.

  Skipper, stand back. ’Tis age that nourisheth.

  TRANIO

  But youth in ladies’ eyes that flourisheth.

  BAPTISTA A

  Content you, gentlemen. I will compound this strife.

  ’Tis deeds must win the prize, and he of both

  That can assure my daughter greatest dower

  Shall have my Bianca’s love.

  Say, Signor Gremio, what can you assure her?

  GREMIO


  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 stuffed my crowns,

  In cypress chests my arras counterpoints,

  Costly apparel, tents and canopies,

  Fine linen, Turkey cushions bossed with pearl,

  Valance of Venice gold in needlework, 350

  Pewter, and brass, and all things that belongs

  To house or housekeeping. Then at my farm

  I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,

  Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls,

  And all things answerable to this portion. 355

  Myself am struck in years, I must confess,

  And if I die tomorrow this is hers,

  If whilst I live she will be only mine.

  TRANIO

  That ‘only’ came well in. Sir, list to me.

  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 walls, as any one

  Old Signor Gremio has in Padua,

  Besides two thousand ducats by the year

  Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure.

  What, have I pinched you, Signor Gremio?

  GREMIO

  Two thousand ducats by the year of land—

  My land amounts not to so much in all.

  That she shall have; besides, an argosy

  That now is lying in Marseilles road.

  What, have I choked you with an argosy?

  TRANIO

  Gremio, ‘tis known my father hath no less

  Than three great argosies, besides two galliasses

  And twelve tight galleys. These I will assure her,

  And twice as much whate’er thou off’rest next.

  GREMIO

  Nay, I have offered all. I have no more,

  And she can have no more than all I have.

  If you like me, she shall have me and mine.

  TRANIO

  Why then, the maid is mine from all the world.

  By your firm promise Gremio is out-vied.

  BAPTISTA

  I must confess your offer is the best,

  And let your father make her the assurance,

  She is your own. Else, you must pardon me,

  If you should die before him, where’s her dower?

  TRANIO

  That’s but a cavil. He is old, I young.

  GREMIO

  And may not young men die as well as old ?

  BAPTISTA Well, gentlemen,

  I am thus resolved. On Sunday next, you know,

  My daughter Katherine is to be married.

  (To Tranio) Now, on the Sunday following shall

  Bianca

  Be bride to you, if you make this assurance;