Bap. I have a daughter, Sir, call'd Catharina.
Gre. You are too blunt: go to it orderly.
Pet. You wrong me, Signior Gremio, give me leave.

I am a gentleman of Verona, Sir,
That, hearing of her beauty and her wit,
Her affability and bashful modefty,
Her wondrous qualities, and mild behaviour,
Am bold to shew myself a forward guest
- Within your house, to make mine eye the witness
Of that Report, which I fo oft have heard.
And, for an entrance to my entertainment,

all

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[Presenting Hor.

I do present you with a man of mine,
Cunning in music, and the mathematics,
To instruct her fully in those sciences,
Whereof, I know, the is not ignorant:
Accept of him, or else you do me wrong,
His name is Licio, born in Mantua.

Bap. You're welcome, Sir, and he for your good

fake.

But for my daughter Catharine, this I know,
She is not for your turn, the more's my grief.
Pet. I fee, you do not mean to part with her;
Or else you like not of my company.

Bap. Mistake me not, I speak but what I find.
Whence are you, Sir? what may I call your name?
Pet. Petruchio is my name, Antonio's fon,
A man well known throughout all Italy.

Rap. I know him well: you are welcome for his fake.

Gre. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray, let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too. Baccalare! you are marvellous forward.

Pet. Oh, pardon me, Signior Gremio, I would fain be doing.

Gre. I doubt it not, Sir, but you will curse your wooing.-Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am sure of it. To express the like kindness myself, that that have been more kindly beholden to you than any, free leave give to this young scholar, that hath been long studying at Reims, [Presenting Luc.] as cunning in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as the other in music and mathematics; his name is Cambio; pray, accept his service.

Bap. A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio: welcome, good, Cambio. But, gentle Sir, methinks, you walk like a stranger; [To Tranio.] may I be so bold to know the cause of your coming?

Tra. Pardon me, Sir, the boldness is mine own,
That, being a stranger in this City here,
Do make myself a fuitor to your daughter,
Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous:

Nor is your firm refolve unknown to me,
In the preferment of the eldest sister.
This liberty is all that I request;
That, upon knowledge of my parentage,
I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo,
And free access and favour as the reft.
And, toward the education of your daughters,
I here bestow a simple instrument,
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 Pifa, 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 go fee 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 Ser. with Hortenfio and Lucentio.

We

We will go walk a little in the orchard,
And then to dinner. You are paffing welcome,
And fo, I pray you all, to think yourselves.

Pet. Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste, And every day I cannot come to woo. You knew my father well, and in him me, Left folely 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 poffeffion, twenty thousand crowns. Pet. And for that dowry, I'll affure her of Her widowhood, be it that she survive me, In all my lands and leafes whatsoever; Let specialities 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 the proud-minded.
And where two raging fires meet together,
They do confume the thing that feeds their fury:
Tho' 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.

[speed!

Bap. Well may'st thou woo, and happy be thy

But be thou arm'd for fome unhappy words.
Pet. Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds:

That shake not, tho' they blow perpetually.

Вар. Но

OW now, my friend, why dost thou look

so pale?

ntik W

Hor. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.

Bap.

Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good mufi

cian?

Hor. I think, she'll fooner prove a foldier;

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 the had studied to misuse me fo.

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 fome 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 fend my daughter Kate to you?

Pet. I pray you, do. I will attend her here,

[Exit Bap. with Grem. Horten. and Tranio.

And woo her with fome spirit when she cornes.
Say, that she rail; why, then I'll tell her plain,
She fings as sweetly as a nightingale:
Say, that she frowns; I'llsay, 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 tho' the bid me stay by her a week;
If she do deny to wed, I'll crave the day

When

When I shall ask the banes, and when be married? But here she 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 something hard of hearing.

They call me Catharine, 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 Gates) and therefore Kate;
Take this of me, Kate of my confolation!
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 woo 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 hast hit it come, fit on me.
Cath. Affes are made to bear, and so are you.
Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are you.
Cath. No fuch 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, flow-wing'd turtle, shall a buzzard take

hes

thee?

Cath.