And so as adversaries* do in law,

Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.

Gre. Bion. O excellent motion! Fellows, let's be gone.
Hor. The motion's good indeed, and be it so ;-

Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto.

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-The same. A Room in BAPTISTA's House,
Enter KATHARINA and BIANCA.

Bian. Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,
To make a bondmaid and a slave of me;

That I disdain but for these other gawds,t
Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself,
Yea, all my raiment to my petticoat;
Or, what you will command me will I do,
So well I know my duty to my elders.

Kath. Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell
Whom thou lov'st best; see thou dissemble not.
Bian. Believe me, sister, of all the men alive,
I never yet beheld that special face
Which I could fancy more than any other.

Kath. Minion, thou liest; Is't not Hortensio ?
Bian. If you affect him, sister, here I swear,
I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have him.
Kath. O then, belike, you fancy riches more;
You will have Gremio to keep you fair.

Bian. Is it for him you do envy me so?
Nay, then you jest; and now I well perceive,
You have but jested with me all this while:
I pr'ythee, sister Kate, untie my hands.
Kath. If that be jest, then all the rest was so.

Enter BAPTISTA.

[Strikes her.

Bap. Why, how now, dame! whence grows this insolence ?Bianca, stand aside;-poor girl! she weeps:

Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her.

For shame, thou hildings of a devilish spirit,

Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee?
When did she cross thee with a bitter word?
Kath. Her silence flouts me, and I'll be revenged.

[Flies after BIANCA.

Bap. What, in my sight ?-Bianca, get thee in. [Exit BIANCA. Kath. Will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see

She is your treasure, she must have a husband;

I must dance bare-foot on her wedding-day,

*I. e. opposing advocates.
Love.

+ Trifling ornaments.
Jade.

And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell.
Talk not to me; I will go sit and weep,
Till I can find occasion of revenge.

[Exit KATHARINA.

Bap. Was ever gentleman thus grieved as I; But who comes here?

Enter GREMIO, with LUCENTIO in the habit of a mean man; PETRUCHIO, with HORTENSIO as a Musician; and TRANIO, with BIONDELLO bearing a lute and books.

Gre. Good-morrow, neighbour Baptista.

Bap. Good-morrow, neighbour Gremio: God save you, gentlemen!

Pet. And you, good Sir! Pray, have you not a daughter Call'd Katharina, fair, and virtuous?

T

Bap. I have a daughter, Sir, call'd Katharina.

Gre. You are too blunt, go to it orderly.

Pet. You wrong me, signior Gremio; give me leave.am a gentleman of Verona, Sir,

That, hearing of her beauty, and her wit,

Her affability, and bashful modesty,

Her wondrous qualities, and mild behaviour,

Am bold to show myself a forward guest

Within your house, to make mine eye the witness

Of that report which I so oft have heard.

And, for an entrance to my entertainment,

I do present you with a man of mine, [Presenting HORTENSIO.
Cunning in music, and the mathematics,

To instruct her fully in those sciences,
Whereof, I know, she 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 sake:

But for my daughter Katharine,—this I know,

She is not for your turn, the more my grief.

Pet. I see you do not mean to part with her;

Or else you like not of my company.

Bap. Mistake me not, I speak but as

find.

Whence are you, Sir? what may I call your name?

Pet. Petruchio is my name; Antonio's son,

A man well known throughout all Italy.

Bap. I know him well: you are welcome for his sake.
Gre. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,

Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too:
Baccare!* you are marvellous forward.

Pet. Q, 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 have been more kindly beholden to you than any, I freely give unto you this young scholar [Presenting LUCENTIO], that hath been long studying

at Rheims; 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 [To TRANIO], methinks, you walk like a stranger; 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 suitor to your daughter,

Unto Bianca, fair, and virtuous.

Nor is your firm resolve 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 rest.

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.

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 [To HOR.] the lute, and you [To Luc.] the set of books, You shall go see your pupils presently.

Holla, within!

Sirrah, lead

Enter a SERVANT.

These gentlemen to my daughters; and tell them both,

These are their tutors; bid them use them well.

[Exit SERVANT, with HORTENSIO, LUCENTIO, and BIONDELLO.

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 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 better'd rather than decreased:
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,
This 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:
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 pale.

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, TRANIÓ, 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.