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Bap. Lucentio is your name? of whence I pray?
Tra. Of Pisa, 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 Hortensio and Lucentio. You shall


your pupils presently, Holla, within !

Enter a Servant.

Sirrah, lead these gentlemen
To my two daughters; and then tell them Both,
These 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 passing welcome,
And so, I pray you all, to think yourselves.

Pet. Signior Baptista, my business asketh halle,
And every day I cannot come to wooe.
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 shall I have with her to wife?

Bap. After my death, the one half of my lands : And, in possession, twenty thousand crowns.

Pet. 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.

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 she proud-minded. And where two raging fires meet together, They do consume the thing that feeds their fury;


D 3

Tho' little fire grows great with little wind,
Yet extream gufts will blow out fire and all :
So I to her, and so she yields to me,
For I am rough, and wooe not like a babe.
Bap. Well may'st thou wooe, and happy be thy

But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words.

Pet. Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds, That shake not, tho’ they blow perpetually.

S CE N E III. Enter Hortensio witb bis bead broke. Bap. How now, my friend, why dost thou look fa

pale ? Her. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good mu

sician? 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 them ? 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, fidler,
And twangling Jack, with twenty such vile terms,
As she had studied to misuse me fo.

Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lufty 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 so discomfited,
Proceed in practice with my younger daughter,
She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns ;


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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 Bap. with Grem. Horten. and Tranio.
And wooe 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 the frowns; I'll say, she looks as clear
As morning roses newly was’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 tho' 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 Catharina. Good morrow, Kate ; for that's your name, I hear. Cath. Well have you heard, but something hard of

hearing They call me Catharine, that do talk of me.

Pet. You lye, in faith, for you are callid 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 prais’d in every Town, Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty founded, Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs : Myself am mov'd to wooe thee for my wife. Cath. Mov'd ?-in good time- let him that mov'd

you hither, Remove you hence; I knew you at the first You were a moveable.



Pet. Why, what's a moveable ?
Cath. A join'd stool.
Pet. Thou haft hit it; come, sit on me.
Cath. Afles are made to bear, and so are you.
Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are you.
Cath. 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-

Cath. Too light for such a swain as you to catch ; And yet as heavy as my weight should be.

Pet. Should bee; should buz.
Cath. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.
Pet. Oh, now-wing'd turtle, shall a buzzard take

Caib. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard. *
Pet. Come, come, you wasp, i'faith, you are too angry,
Catb. If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
Pet. My Remedy is then to pluck it out.
Cath. Ah, if the fool could find it, where it lies.
Pet. Who knows not, where a wasp doth wear his


In his tail.

Cath. In his tongue.
Pet. Whose tongue ?
Cath. Yours, if you talk of tails ; and so farewel.
Pet. What with my tongue in your tail ? nay, come

Good Kate, I am a gentleman.
Cath. That I'll try.

[She strikes him. Pet. I swear, I'll cuff



Itrike again.
Cath. 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 ? oh, put me in thy books.
Cath. What is your creit, a coxcomb ?
Ay, for a turtle, as he takes luzzard.

a buzzard. ] Perhaps we That is, he may take me for a Inay read better,

turtl, and he shall find me a Aj, for a turtle, and he takes a hawk.

· Per.

Pet. A combless cock, fo Kate will be my hen. Cath. No cock of mine, you crow too like a craven. Pet. Nay, come, Kate ; come, you must not look

so fower. Cath. It is my fashion when I see a crab. Pet. Why, here's no crab, and therefore look not

so fower. Cath. There is, there is. Pet. Then, shew it me, Catb. Had I a glass, I would. Pet. What, you mean my face? Cath. Well aim'd of such a young one.Pet. Now by St. George, I am too young Catb. Yet you are wither'd. Pet. 'Tis with Cares. Cath. I care not. Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate; in sooth, you 'scape

for you.

not fo.

Cath. 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 liar;
For thou art pleasant, gamesom, passing courteous,
But Now in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers.
Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look afcance,
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,
Nor haft thou pleasure to be cross in talk :
But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers,
With gentle conf'rence, soft and affable.
Why doth the world report, that Kate doth limp?
Oh Nand'rous world! Kate, like the hazle-twig,
Is strait and nender ; 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 to become a grove,
As Kate this chamber with her princely gaite ?
O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate,


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