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I here bestow a simple inftruinent,
And this small packet of Greek and Latin books.
If you accept them, then their worth is great.
[They greet privately. Bap. Lucentio is your name ; of whence I pray? Tra. Of Pila, Sir, son to Vincentio.
Bap. 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,
[To Hortenfio and Lucentio. You shall go fee your pupils presently, Holla, within !
Enter a Servant,
Sirrah, lead these gentlemen
To my two daughters; and then tell them both,
Thele are their tutors, bid them use them well.
[Exit Serv. with Hortensio and Lucentio.
We will go walk a little in the orchard,
And then to dinner. You are patling welcoine;"
And fo I pray you all to think yourselves.
Pet. Signior Baptifta, my bufinefs aiketh hafte,
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 decreas'd;
Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love,
What dowry thall I have with her to wife?
Bap. After my death the one half of my lands;
And in poffeffion twenty thousand crowns.
Pet. And, for that dowry, I'll alsure her of
Her widowhood, be it that the survive me,
In all my lands and Icases whatsoever ;
Let specialties be therefore drawn between iis,
That covenants may be kept on either hand.
Bap. Ay; when the special thing is well obtain’d, That is, her love ; for that is all in all.
Pet. Why, that is nothing: for I tell you, father, I am as peremptory as the 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, D : 2
Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all :
So I to her, and so the yields to me,
For I am rough, and woo not like a babe.
· Bap. Wellmay'st thou woo, and happy be thy fpeed!
Put bu thou arm’d for some unhappy words.
Pet. Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds;
That thake not, though they blow perpetually.
SCENE III. Enter Hortenfio with his head Broke.
Bap. How. now, my friend? why doit thou look fo
Hor. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.
Bap. What! will my daughter prove a good musi-
Hør. I think the ll sooner prove a soldier ;
may hok with her, but never lutes. Büp. 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 the mistook her frets,
And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering,
When, 'th a most impatient devilish spirit,
Frets call you them: quoth she; I'll fume with them:
And with that word she itruck me on the head,
And through the initrument my pate made way,
And there I ftood amazed for a while,
As on a pillory, looking through the lute;
While the did call me rascal fidler,
And twangling Jack, with twenty such vile termas,
As the had studied to misuse me 10.
Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench ;
I love her ten times more than e'er I did;
Oh, how I long to have some chat with her!
Bap. Well, go with me, and be not fo 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.
[Exit Fap. with Grem. Horten, and Tranio.
And woo her with some spirit when she comes.
Sav that the rail; why, then I'll tell her plain,
She sings as sweetly as a nightingale:
Say that the frowns; I'll iay, she looks as clear
As morning roses newly wash'd with dew:
Say she be mute, and will not fpeak a word;
Then I'll commend her volubility,
And firy, 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 Thall a k the bines, and when be married,
But here ihe comes, and now, Petruchio, speak.
SCENE IV. Enter Catharina.
Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear.
Cath. Well have you heard, but iomething hard of
hearing. They call me Catharine that do talk of me.
Pet. You lye, in faith ; for you are called plain Kate. And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curs di But Kate, the prettieit Kate in Christendon, Kate of Katehall, my fuper-dainty Kaie ; (For dainties are all cates), and therefore Kate; Take this of me, Kate of
Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy bezuty founded,
Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs :
Myielf am mov'd to woo thee for my
wife. Cath. Mov'd! in good time; let him that movie
Remove you hence ; I knew you at the first
You were a moveable.
Pet. Why, what's a moveable ?
Cath. A join'd itool.
Pet. Thou hait hit it: come, fit on me.
Cath. Affes are made to bear, and io are you.
Pet. Women are mile to bear, and so are you,
Cath. No such jade, ir, as you ; if me you mean..
Pet Alas, good Kate, I will not burthen thee
For knowing thee to be but young and light, ----
Cath. Too light for such a divain as you to catch ; And yet as heavy as my weight thould be *.
Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate; in footh you’scape not fo. Cath, I chare
you if I tarry ; let me go. Pet. No, not a whit; I find you pafling gentle : "Twas told me, you were rouglı, and coy, and sullen, And now I find report a very lyar; For thou art pleasant, gamesome, pafling courteous, But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers. Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look ascance, Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will ; Nor hait thou pleasure to be cross in talk. But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers, With gentle conf'rence, soft and affable.
Pit, Oh, Now wing d turtle, Mall a buzzard take thee?
Carb. A, for a turule, as he takes a buzzard.
Pet. Come, come, you wasp, i' fajin you are too angry.
Caib. If I be wafpish, 'belt be a my fting.
Pet. My remedy is then lo piuck it vut,
Carb. Ah, it the toul culi find it, v here it lies.
Pet, Who knows not where a wasp doth wear his sting?
In his tai]
Carb. In nis tongue.
Pet. Wh se tunguc?
Catb. Your's, 11 you talk of tails; and lo farewel.
Pet. What with my tongue in your tail ? say, cume again,
Gord Kate, I am a gentleman.
Caib. That I'll try.
[She Arikes bima Per. I swear, I'U cuff you, if you strike again,
Caib. So may ou loic your arms.
If you ' ike mt, ou a e no genil man;
And no gentleman, why ihn, no arms.
Per Averal:: Kiti? oh, put me in ihy books.
Caib. What is ou: cift, a coxcomb?
Per. A combiefs work, fo Kale will be my hen.
Cuib No cock of nine, you crow tov like a craven.
Pet. Nay, cumt, Kate; com , you muft not look so four.
Cuib. It is my fa :. jun when I see a crab.
Pet Why, here's no crab, and therefore look not so four.
Cab. The e is, there is.
Per. Then thew it me.
Caib. Had I glais, I would.
Pet. What, y u mean my face?
Cuib. Well amd of iu ba y ung one.
Pet. N w, y St. Gevige, I am too young for you.
Cuib. Yet you are wither'd.
Pe. Tis with carts.
Carl i care not,
Pet, Na), &c.
Why doth the world report, that Kate doth limp?
Oh fland'rous world! Kate like the hazle-twig,
Is straight and slender; and as brown in hue
As hazle-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels.
0, let me see thee walk : thou dost 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 gait ?
0, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate,
And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportful !
Cath. Where did you stu'y all this goodly speech?
Pet. It is extempore, from my mother wit.
Cath. A witty mother, witleis else her son.
Pet. Am I not wise?
Cath. Yes, keep you warm,
Pet. Why, so I mean, fweet Catharine, 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 dow'ry 'greed ons
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 cat to a Kate,
Conformable as other houthold Kates.
Here comes your father, never make denial,
I must and will have Catharine to my wife.
SCENE V. 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 amiis. Bap. Why, how now, daughter Catharine, in your
dumps ? Cath. Call you me daughter? now, I promise you, You've shewd 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.