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BAPTISTA: 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, Signior 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 stuff'd my crowns; In cypress chests my arras counterpoints, Costly apparel, tents, and canopies, Fine linen, Turkey cushio... |
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 Signior Gremio has in Padua; Besides two thousand ducats by the year Of fruitful land, all which shall be her... |
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 galliases, And twelve tight galleys: these I will assure her, And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next. |
GREMIO: Nay, I have offer'd 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 Katharina is to be married: Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca Be bride to you, if you this assurance; If not, Signior Gremio: And so, I take my leave, and thank you both. |
GREMIO: Adieu, good neighbour. Now I fear thee not: Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool To give thee all, and in his waning age Set foot under thy table: tut, a toy! An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. |
TRANIO: A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide! Yet I have faced it with a card of ten. 'Tis in my head to do my master good: I see no reason but supposed Lucentio Must get a father, call'd 'supposed Vincentio;' And that's a wonder: fathers commonly Do get their children; but in this case of wooing, A child shall get... |
LUCENTIO: Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir: Have you so soon forgot the entertainment Her sister Katharina welcomed you withal? |
HORTENSIO: But, wrangling pedant, this is The patroness of heavenly harmony: Then give me leave to have prerogative; And when in music we have spent an hour, Your lecture shall have leisure for as much. |
LUCENTIO: Preposterous ass, that never read so far To know the cause why music was ordain'd! Was it not to refresh the mind of man After his studies or his usual pain? Then give me leave to read philosophy, And while I pause, serve in your harmony. |
HORTENSIO: Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine. |
BIANCA: Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong, To strive for that which resteth in my choice: I am no breeching scholar in the schools; I'll not be tied to hours nor 'pointed times, But learn my lessons as I please myself. And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down: Take you your instrument, play you the whiles; His... |
HORTENSIO: You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune? |
LUCENTIO: That will be never: tune your instrument. |
BIANCA: Where left we last? |
LUCENTIO: Here, madam: 'Hic ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus; Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.' |
BIANCA: Construe them. |
LUCENTIO: 'Hic ibat,' as I told you before, 'Simois,' I am Lucentio, 'hic est,' son unto Vincentio of Pisa, 'Sigeia tellus,' disguised thus to get your love; 'Hic steterat,' and that Lucentio that comes a-wooing, 'Priami,' is my man Tranio, 'regia,' bearing my port, 'celsa senis,' that we might beguile the old pantaloo... |
HORTENSIO: Madam, my instrument's in tune. |
BIANCA: Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars. |
LUCENTIO: Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. |
BIANCA: Now let me see if I can construe it: 'Hic ibat Simois,' I know you not, 'hic est Sigeia tellus,' I trust you not; 'Hic steterat Priami,' take heed he hear us not, 'regia,' presume not, 'celsa senis,' despair not. |
HORTENSIO: Madam, 'tis now in tune. |
LUCENTIO: All but the base. |
HORTENSIO: The base is right; 'tis the base knave that jars. How fiery and forward our pedant is! Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love: Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet. |
BIANCA: In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. |
LUCENTIO: Mistrust it not: for, sure, AEacides Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather. |
BIANCA: I must believe my master; else, I promise you, I should be arguing still upon that doubt: But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you: Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray, That I have been thus pleasant with you both. |
HORTENSIO: You may go walk, and give me leave a while: My lessons make no music in three parts. |
LUCENTIO: Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait, And watch withal; for, but I be deceived, Our fine musician groweth amorous. |
HORTENSIO: Madam, before you touch the instrument, To learn the order of my fingering, I must begin with rudiments of art; To teach you gamut in a briefer sort, More pleasant, pithy and effectual, Than hath been taught by any of my trade: And there it is in writing, fairly drawn. |
BIANCA: Why, I am past my gamut long ago. |
HORTENSIO: Yet read the gamut of Hortensio. |
BIANCA: |
Servant: Mistress, your father prays you leave your books And help to dress your sister's chamber up: You know to-morrow is the wedding-day. |
BIANCA: Farewell, sweet masters both; I must be gone. |
LUCENTIO: Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. |
HORTENSIO: But I have cause to pry into this pedant: Methinks he looks as though he were in love: Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble To cast thy wandering eyes on every stale, Seize thee that list: if once I find thee ranging, Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. |
BAPTISTA: |
KATHARINA: No shame but mine: I must, forsooth, be forced To give my hand opposed against my heart Unto a mad-brain rudesby full of spleen; Who woo'd in haste and means to wed at leisure. I told you, I, he was a frantic fool, Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behavior: And, to be noted for a merry man, He'll woo a thous... |
TRANIO: Patience, good Katharina, and Baptista too. Upon my life, Petruchio means but well, Whatever fortune stays him from his word: Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise; Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest. |
KATHARINA: Would Katharina had never seen him though! |
BAPTISTA: Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep; For such an injury would vex a very saint, Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour. |
BIONDELLO: Master, master! news, old news, and such news as you never heard of! |
BAPTISTA: Is it new and old too? how may that be? |
BIONDELLO: Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio's coming? |
BAPTISTA: Is he come? |
BIONDELLO: Why, no, sir. |
BAPTISTA: What then? |
BIONDELLO: He is coming. |
BAPTISTA: When will he be here? |
BIONDELLO: When he stands where I am and sees you there. |
TRANIO: But say, what to thine old news? |
BIONDELLO: Why, Petruchio is coming in a new hat and an old jerkin, a pair of old breeches thrice turned, a pair of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled, another laced, an old rusty sword ta'en out of the town-armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless; with two broken points: his horse hipped with an old moth... |
BAPTISTA: Who comes with him? |
BIONDELLO: O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned like the horse; with a linen stock on one leg and a kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered with a red and blue list; an old hat and 'the humour of forty fancies' pricked in't for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian footb... |
TRANIO: 'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion; Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-apparell'd. |
BAPTISTA: I am glad he's come, howsoe'er he comes. |
BIONDELLO: Why, sir, he comes not. |
BAPTISTA: Didst thou not say he comes? |
BIONDELLO: Who? that Petruchio came? |
BAPTISTA: Ay, that Petruchio came. |
BIONDELLO: No, sir, I say his horse comes, with him on his back. |
BAPTISTA: Why, that's all one. |
BIONDELLO: Nay, by Saint Jamy, I hold you a penny, A horse and a man Is more than one, And yet not many. |
PETRUCHIO: Come, where be these gallants? who's at home? |
BAPTISTA: You are welcome, sir. |
PETRUCHIO: And yet I come not well. |
BAPTISTA: And yet you halt not. |
TRANIO: Not so well apparell'd As I wish you were. |
PETRUCHIO: Were it better, I should rush in thus. But where is Kate? where is my lovely bride? How does my father? Gentles, methinks you frown: And wherefore gaze this goodly company, As if they saw some wondrous monument, Some comet or unusual prodigy? |
BAPTISTA: Why, sir, you know this is your wedding-day: First were we sad, fearing you would not come; Now sadder, that you come so unprovided. Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate, An eye-sore to our solemn festival! |
TRANIO: And tells us, what occasion of import Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife, And sent you hither so unlike yourself? |
PETRUCHIO: Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear: Sufficeth I am come to keep my word, Though in some part enforced to digress; Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse As you shall well be satisfied withal. But where is Kate? I stay too long from her: The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church. |
TRANIO: See not your bride in these unreverent robes: Go to my chamber; Put on clothes of mine. |
PETRUCHIO: Not I, believe me: thus I'll visit her. |
BAPTISTA: But thus, I trust, you will not marry her. |
PETRUCHIO: Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha' done with words: To me she's married, not unto my clothes: Could I repair what she will wear in me, As I can change these poor accoutrements, 'Twere well for Kate and better for myself. But what a fool am I to chat with you, When I should bid good morrow to my bride, And ... |
TRANIO: He hath some meaning in his mad attire: We will persuade him, be it possible, To put on better ere he go to church. |
BAPTISTA: I'll after him, and see the event of this. |
TRANIO: But to her love concerneth us to add Her father's liking: which to bring to pass, As I before unparted to your worship, I am to get a man,--whate'er he be, It skills not much. we'll fit him to our turn,-- And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa; And make assurance here in Padua Of greater sums than I have promised. S... |
LUCENTIO: Were it not that my fellow-school-master Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly, 'Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage; Which once perform'd, let all the world say no, I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world. |
TRANIO: That by degrees we mean to look into, And watch our vantage in this business: We'll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio, The narrow-prying father, Minola, The quaint musician, amorous Licio; All for my master's sake, Lucentio. Signior Gremio, came you from the church? |
GREMIO: As willingly as e'er I came from school. |
TRANIO: And is the bride and bridegroom coming home? |
GREMIO: A bridegroom say you? 'tis a groom indeed, A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find. |
TRANIO: Curster than she? why, 'tis impossible. |
GREMIO: Why he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend. |
TRANIO: Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam. |
GREMIO: Tut, she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him! I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest Should ask, if Katharina should be his wife, 'Ay, by gogs-wouns,' quoth he; and swore so loud, That, all-amazed, the priest let fall the book; And, as he stoop'd again to take it up, The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a... |
TRANIO: What said the wench when he rose again? |
GREMIO: Trembled and shook; for why, he stamp'd and swore, As if the vicar meant to cozen him. But after many ceremonies done, He calls for wine: 'A health!' quoth he, as if He had been aboard, carousing to his mates After a storm; quaff'd off the muscadel And threw the sops all in the sexton's face; Having no other re... |
PETRUCHIO: Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains: I know you think to dine with me to-day, And have prepared great store of wedding cheer; But so it is, my haste doth call me hence, And therefore here I mean to take my leave. |
BAPTISTA: Is't possible you will away to-night? |
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