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twg_000000026100 | in the field, And heavens artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in a pitched battle heard Loud larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets clang? And do you tell me of a womans tongue, That gives not half so great a blow to hear As will a chestnut in a farmers fire? Tush, tush! fear boys with bugs. GRUMIO. [_Aside_] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026101 | For he fears none. GREMIO. Hortensio, hark: This gentleman is happily arrivd, My mind presumes, for his own good and yours. HORTENSIO. I promisd we would be contributors, And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoeer. GREMIO. And so we will, provided that he win her. GRUMIO. I would I were as sure of a good dinner. Enter Tranio brave, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026102 | Biondello. TRANIO. Gentlemen, God save you! If I may be bold, Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way To the house of Signior Baptista Minola? BIONDELLO. He that has the two fair daughters; ist he you mean? TRANIO. Even he, Biondello! GREMIO. Hark you, sir, you mean not her to TRANIO. Perhaps him and her, sir; what | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026103 | have you to do? PETRUCHIO. Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray. TRANIO. I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, lets away. LUCENTIO. [_Aside_] Well begun, Tranio. HORTENSIO. Sir, a word ere you go. Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no? TRANIO. And if I be, sir, is it any offence? GREMIO. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026104 | No; if without more words you will get you hence. TRANIO. Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free For me as for you? GREMIO. But so is not she. TRANIO. For what reason, I beseech you? GREMIO. For this reason, if youll know, That shes the choice love of Signior Gremio. HORTENSIO. That shes the chosen of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026105 | Signior Hortensio. TRANIO. Softly, my masters! If you be gentlemen, Do me this right; hear me with patience. Baptista is a noble gentleman, To whom my father is not all unknown; And were his daughter fairer than she is, She may more suitors have, and me for one. Fair Ledas daughter had a thousand wooers; Then well one more may | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026106 | fair Bianca have; And so she shall: Lucentio shall make one, Though Paris came in hope to speed alone. GREMIO. What, this gentleman will out-talk us all. LUCENTIO. Sir, give him head; I know hell prove a jade. PETRUCHIO. Hortensio, to what end are all these words? HORTENSIO. Sir, let me be so bold as ask you, Did you yet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026107 | ever see Baptistas daughter? TRANIO. No, sir, but hear I do that he hath two, The one as famous for a scolding tongue As is the other for beauteous modesty. PETRUCHIO. Sir, sir, the firsts for me; let her go by. GREMIO. Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules, And let it be more than Alcides twelve. PETRUCHIO. Sir, understand | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026108 | you this of me, in sooth: The youngest daughter, whom you hearken for, Her father keeps from all access of suitors, And will not promise her to any man Until the elder sister first be wed; The younger then is free, and not before. TRANIO. If it be so, sir, that you are the man Must stead us all, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026109 | me amongst the rest; And if you break the ice, and do this feat, Achieve the elder, set the younger free For our access, whose hap shall be to have her Will not so graceless be to be ingrate. HORTENSIO. Sir, you say well, and well you do conceive; And since you do profess to be a suitor, You must, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026110 | as we do, gratify this gentleman, To whom we all rest generally beholding. TRANIO. Sir, I shall not be slack; in sign whereof, Please ye we may contrive this afternoon, And quaff carouses to our mistress health; And do as adversaries do in law, Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. GRUMIO, BIONDELLO. O excellent motion! Fellows, lets be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026111 | gone. HORTENSIO. The motions good indeed, and be it so: Petruchio, I shall be your _ben venuto_. [_Exeunt._] ACT II SCENE I. Padua. A room in Baptistas house. Enter Katherina and Bianca. BIANCA. 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, Unbind my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026112 | hands, Ill 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. KATHERINA. Of all thy suitors here I charge thee tell Whom thou lovst best: see thou dissemble not. BIANCA. Believe me, sister, of all the men alive I never | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026113 | yet beheld that special face Which I could fancy more than any other. KATHERINA. Minion, thou liest. Ist not Hortensio? BIANCA. If you affect him, sister, here I swear Ill plead for you myself but you shall have him. KATHERINA. O! then, belike, you fancy riches more: You will have Gremio to keep you fair. BIANCA. Is it for him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026114 | you do envy me so? Nay, then you jest; and now I well perceive You have but jested with me all this while: I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands. KATHERINA. If that be jest, then all the rest was so. [_Strikes her._] Enter Baptista. BAPTISTA. Why, how now, dame! Whence grows this insolence? Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl! she | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026115 | weeps. Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her. For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit, Why dost thou wrong her that did neer wrong thee? When did she cross thee with a bitter word? KATHERINA. Her silence flouts me, and Ill be revengd. [_Flies after Bianca._] BAPTISTA. What! in my sight? Bianca, get thee in. [_Exit Bianca._] KATHERINA. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026116 | What! 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, 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._] BAPTISTA. Was ever gentleman thus grievd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026117 | 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. GREMIO. Good morrow, neighbour Baptista. BAPTISTA. Good morrow, neighbour Gremio. God save you, gentlemen! PETRUCHIO. And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter Calld Katherina, fair | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026118 | and virtuous? BAPTISTA. I have a daughter, sir, calld Katherina. GREMIO. You are too blunt: go to it orderly. PETRUCHIO. 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 modesty, Her wondrous qualities and mild behaviour, Am bold to show myself a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026119 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026120 | him, or else you do me wrong: His name is Licio, born in Mantua. BAPTISTA. Yare welcome, sir, and he for your good sake; But for my daughter Katherine, this I know, She is not for your turn, the more my grief. PETRUCHIO. I see you do not mean to part with her; Or else you like not of my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026121 | company. BAPTISTA. Mistake me not; I speak but as I find. Whence are you, sir? What may I call your name? PETRUCHIO. Petruchio is my name, Antonios son; A man well known throughout all Italy. BAPTISTA. I know him well: you are welcome for his sake. GREMIO. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray, Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026122 | too. Backare! you are marvellous forward. PETRUCHIO. O, pardon me, Signior Gremio; I would fain be doing. GREMIO. 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 beholding to you than any, freely give unto | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026123 | you this young scholar, [_Presenting Lucentio._] that has 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. BAPTISTA. A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio; welcome, good Cambio. [_To Tranio._] But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger. May I be so | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026124 | bold to know the cause of your coming? TRANIO. 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026125 | 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. BAPTISTA. Lucentio is your name, of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026126 | whence, I pray? TRANIO. Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio. BAPTISTA. A mighty man of Pisa: by report I know him well: you are very welcome, sir. [_To Hortensio_.] Take you the lute, [_To Lucentio_.] and you the set of books; You shall go see your pupils presently. Holla, within! Enter a Servant. Sirrah, lead these gentlemen To my daughters, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026127 | and tell them both These are their tutors: bid them use them well. [_Exeunt 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. PETRUCHIO. Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste, And every day I cannot come to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026128 | woo. You knew my father well, and in him me, Left solely heir to all his lands and goods, Which I have bettered rather than decreasd: Then tell me, if I get your daughters love, What dowry shall I have with her to wife? BAPTISTA. After my death, the one half of my lands, And in possession twenty thousand crowns. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026129 | PETRUCHIO. And, for that dowry, Ill assure her of Her widowhood, be it that she survive me, In all my lands and leases whatsoever. Let specialities be therefore drawn between us, That covenants may be kept on either hand. BAPTISTA. Ay, when the special thing is well obtaind, That is, her love; for that is all in all. PETRUCHIO. Why, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026130 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026131 | am rough and woo not like a babe. BAPTISTA. Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed! But be thou armd for some unhappy words. PETRUCHIO. Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds, That shake not though they blow perpetually. Re-enter Hortensio, with his head broke. BAPTISTA. How now, my friend! Why dost thou look so pale? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026132 | HORTENSIO. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. BAPTISTA. What, will my daughter prove a good musician? HORTENSIO. I think shell sooner prove a soldier: Iron may hold with her, but never lutes. BAPTISTA. Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute? HORTENSIO. Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me. I did but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026133 | tell her she mistook her frets, And bowd her hand to teach her fingering; When, with a most impatient devilish spirit, Frets, call you these? quoth she Ill 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026134 | pillory, looking through the lute; While she did call me rascal fiddler, And twangling Jack, with twenty such vile terms, As had she studied to misuse me so. PETRUCHIO. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench! I love her ten times more than eer I did: O! how I long to have some chat with her! BAPTISTA. [_To | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026135 | Hortensio_.] Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited; Proceed in practice with my younger daughter; Shes apt to learn, and thankful for good turns. Signior Petruchio, will you go with us, Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you? PETRUCHIO. I pray you do. [_Exeunt Baptista, Gremio, Tranio and Hortensio._] I will attend her here, And woo | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026136 | her with some spirit when she comes. Say that she rail; why, then Ill tell her plain She sings as sweetly as a nightingale: Say that she frown; Ill say she looks as clear As morning roses newly washd with dew: Say she be mute, and will not speak a word; Then Ill commend her volubility, And say she uttereth | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026137 | piercing eloquence: If she do bid me pack, Ill give her thanks, As though she bid me stay by her a week: If she deny to wed, Ill crave the day When I shall ask the banns, and when be married. But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak. Enter Katherina. Good morrow, Kate; for thats your name, I hear. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026138 | KATHERINA. Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing: They call me Katherine that do talk of me. PETRUCHIO. You lie, in faith, for you are calld 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 Kates, and therefore, Kate, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026139 | Take this of me, Kate of my consolation; Hearing thy mildness praisd in every town, Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs, Myself am movd to woo thee for my wife. KATHERINA. Movd! in good time: let him that movd you hither Remove you hence. I knew you at the first, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026140 | You were a moveable. PETRUCHIO. Why, whats a moveable? KATHERINA. A joint-stool. PETRUCHIO. Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me. KATHERINA. Asses are made to bear, and so are you. PETRUCHIO. Women are made to bear, and so are you. KATHERINA. No such jade as bear you, if me you mean. PETRUCHIO. Alas! good Kate, I will not burden | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026141 | thee; For, knowing thee to be but young and light, KATHERINA. Too light for such a swain as you to catch; And yet as heavy as my weight should be. PETRUCHIO. Should be! should buz! KATHERINA. Well taen, and like a buzzard. PETRUCHIO. O, slow-wingd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee? KATHERINA. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026142 | buzzard. PETRUCHIO. Come, come, you wasp; i faith, you are too angry. KATHERINA. If I be waspish, best beware my sting. PETRUCHIO. My remedy is then to pluck it out. KATHERINA. Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies. PETRUCHIO. Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail. KATHERINA. In his tongue. PETRUCHIO. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026143 | Whose tongue? KATHERINA. Yours, if you talk of tales; and so farewell. PETRUCHIO. What! with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again, Good Kate; I am a gentleman. KATHERINA. That Ill try. [_Striking him._] PETRUCHIO. I swear Ill cuff you if you strike again. KATHERINA. So may you lose your arms: If you strike me, you are no gentleman; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026144 | And if no gentleman, why then no arms. PETRUCHIO. A herald, Kate? O! put me in thy books. KATHERINA. What is your crest? a coxcomb? PETRUCHIO. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen. KATHERINA. No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven. PETRUCHIO. Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour. KATHERINA. It is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026145 | my fashion when I see a crab. PETRUCHIO. Why, heres no crab, and therefore look not sour. KATHERINA. There is, there is. PETRUCHIO. Then show it me. KATHERINA. Had I a glass I would. PETRUCHIO. What, you mean my face? KATHERINA. Well aimd of such a young one. PETRUCHIO. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you. KATHERINA. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026146 | Yet you are witherd. PETRUCHIO. Tis with cares. KATHERINA. I care not. PETRUCHIO. Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth, you scape not so. KATHERINA. I chafe you, if I tarry; let me go. PETRUCHIO. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026147 | liar; For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous, But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers. Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance, Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will, Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk; But thou with mildness entertainst thy wooers; With gentle conference, soft and affable. Why does the world | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026148 | report that Kate doth limp? O slandrous world! Kate like the hazel-twig Is straight and slender, and as brown in hue As hazel-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels. O! let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt. KATHERINA. Go, fool, and whom thou keepst command. PETRUCHIO. Did ever Dian so become a grove As Kate this chamber with her | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026149 | princely gait? O! be thou Dian, and let her be Kate, And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportful! KATHERINA. Where did you study all this goodly speech? PETRUCHIO. It is extempore, from my mother-wit. KATHERINA. A witty mother! witless else her son. PETRUCHIO. Am I not wise? KATHERINA. Yes; keep you warm. PETRUCHIO. Marry, so I mean, sweet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026150 | Katherine, 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 dowry greed on; 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026151 | 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 Kate to a Kate Conformable as other household Kates. Re-enter Baptista, Gremio and Tranio. Here comes your father. Never make denial; I must and will have Katherine to my wife. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026152 | BAPTISTA. Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter? PETRUCHIO. How but well, sir? how but well? It were impossible I should speed amiss. BAPTISTA. Why, how now, daughter Katherine, in your dumps? KATHERINA. Call you me daughter? Now I promise you You have showd a tender fatherly regard To wish me wed to one half lunatic, A mad-cap | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026153 | ruffian and a swearing Jack, That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. PETRUCHIO. Father, tis thus: yourself and all the world That talkd of her have talkd amiss of her: If she be curst, it is for policy, For shes not froward, but modest as the dove; She is not hot, but temperate as the morn; For patience | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026154 | she will prove a second Grissel, And Roman Lucrece for her chastity; And to conclude, we have greed so well together That upon Sunday is the wedding-day. KATHERINA. Ill see thee hangd on Sunday first. GREMIO. Hark, Petruchio; she says shell see thee hangd first. TRANIO. Is this your speeding? Nay, then good-night our part! PETRUCHIO. Be patient, gentlemen. I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026155 | choose her for myself; If she and I be pleasd, whats that to you? Tis bargaind twixt us twain, being alone, That she shall still be curst in company. I tell you, tis incredible to believe How much she loves me: O! the kindest Kate She hung about my neck, and kiss on kiss She vied so fast, protesting oath | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026156 | on oath, That in a twink she won me to her love. O! you are novices: tis a world to see, How tame, when men and women are alone, A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew. Give me thy hand, Kate; I will unto Venice, To buy apparel gainst the wedding-day. Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026157 | I will be sure my Katherine shall be fine. BAPTISTA. I know not what to say; but give me your hands. God send you joy, Petruchio! Tis a match. GREMIO, TRANIO. Amen, say we; we will be witnesses. PETRUCHIO. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu. I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace; We will have rings and things, and fine | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026158 | array; And kiss me, Kate; we will be married o Sunday. [_Exeunt Petruchio and Katherina, severally._] GREMIO. Was ever match clappd up so suddenly? BAPTISTA. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchants part, And venture madly on a desperate mart. TRANIO. Twas a commodity lay fretting by you; Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas. BAPTISTA. The gain | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026159 | I seek is, quiet in the match. GREMIO. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch. But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter: Now is the day we long have looked for; I am your neighbour, and was suitor first. TRANIO. And I am one that love Bianca more Than words can witness or your thoughts can guess. GREMIO. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026160 | Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I. TRANIO. Greybeard, thy love doth freeze. GREMIO. But thine doth fry. Skipper, stand back; tis age that nourisheth. TRANIO. But youth in ladies eyes that flourisheth. BAPTISTA. Content you, gentlemen; Ill compound this strife: Tis deeds must win the prize, and he of both That can assure my daughter greatest dower | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026161 | Shall have my Biancas 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 stuffd my crowns; In cypress chests my arras counterpoints, Costly apparel, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026162 | tents, and canopies, Fine linen, Turkey cushions bossd with pearl, Valance of Venice gold in needlework; Pewter and brass, and all things that belong To house or housekeeping: then, at my farm I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail, Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls, And all things answerable to this portion. Myself am struck in years, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026163 | I must confess; And if I die tomorrow this is hers, If whilst I live she will be only mine. TRANIO. That only came well in. Sir, list to me: I am my fathers heir and only son; If I may have your daughter to my wife, Ill leave her houses three or four as good Within rich Pisas walls | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026164 | as anyone Old Signior Gremio has in Padua; Besides two thousand ducats by the year Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure. What, have I pinchd you, Signior Gremio? 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026165 | in Marseilles road. What, have I chokd you with an argosy? TRANIO. Gremio, tis known my father hath no less Than three great argosies, besides two galliasses, And twelve tight galleys; these I will assure her, And twice as much, whateer thou offerst next. GREMIO. Nay, I have offerd all; I have no more; And she can have no more | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026166 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026167 | should die before him, wheres her dower? TRANIO. Thats 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 resolvd. On Sunday next, you know, My daughter Katherine is to be married; Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca Be bride to you, if you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026168 | make this assurance; If not, to Signior Gremio. And so I take my leave, and thank you both. GREMIO. Adieu, good neighbour. [_Exit Baptista._] 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026169 | so kind, my boy. [_Exit._] TRANIO. A vengeance on your crafty witherd hide! Yet I have facd it with a card of ten. Tis in my head to do my master good: I see no reason but supposd Lucentio Must get a father, calld supposd Vincentio; And thats a wonder: fathers commonly Do get their children; but in this case | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026170 | of wooing A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning. [_Exit._] ACT III SCENE I. Padua. A room in Baptistas house. Enter Lucentio, Hortensio and Bianca. LUCENTIO. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir. Have you so soon forgot the entertainment Her sister Katherine welcomed you withal? HORTENSIO. But, wrangling pedant, this is The patroness | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026171 | 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 ordaind! Was it not to refresh the mind of man After his studies or his usual pain? Then | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026172 | 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, Ill not be tied to hours nor pointed times, But learn | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026173 | 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 lecture will be done ere you have tund. HORTENSIO. Youll leave his lecture when I am in tune? [_Retires._] LUCENTIO. That will be never: tune your instrument. BIANCA. Where left we last? LUCENTIO. Here, madam: | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026174 | _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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026175 | _celsa senis_, that we might beguile the old pantaloon. HORTENSIO. [_Returning._] Madam, my instruments in tune. BIANCA. Lets hear. [Hortensio _plays._] 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; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026176 | _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. [_Aside_] How fiery and forward our pedant is! Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love: Pedascule, Ill watch you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026177 | better yet. BIANCA. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. LUCENTIO. Mistrust it not; for sure, acides Was Ajax, calld 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 master, take it not unkindly, pray, That I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026178 | have been thus pleasant with you both. HORTENSIO. [_To Lucentio_] 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, [_Aside_] And watch withal; for, but I be deceivd, Our fine musician groweth amorous. HORTENSIO. Madam, before you touch the instrument, To | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026179 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026180 | _Gamut_ I am, the ground of all accord, _A re_, to plead Hortensios passion; _B mi_, Bianca, take him for thy lord, _C fa ut_, that loves with all affection: _D sol re_, one clef, two notes have I _E la mi_, show pity or I die. Call you this gamut? Tut, I like it not: Old fashions please me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026181 | best; I am not so nice, To change true rules for odd inventions. Enter a Servant. SERVANT. Mistress, your father prays you leave your books, And help to dress your sisters chamber up: You know tomorrow is the wedding-day. BIANCA. Farewell, sweet masters, both: I must be gone. [_Exeunt Bianca and Servant._] LUCENTIO. Faith, mistress, then I have no cause | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026182 | to stay. [_Exit._] 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 wandring eyes on every stale, Seize thee that list: if once I find thee ranging, Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. [_Exit._] SCENE II. The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026183 | same. Before Baptistas house. Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Katherina, Bianca, Lucentio and Attendants. BAPTISTA. [_To Tranio_.] Signior Lucentio, this is the pointed day That Katherine and Petruchio should be married, And yet we hear not of our son-in-law. What will be said? What mockery will it be To want the bridegroom when the priest attends To speak the ceremonial rites | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026184 | of marriage! What says Lucentio to this shame of ours? KATHERINA. No shame but mine; I must, forsooth, be forcd To give my hand, opposd against my heart, Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen; Who wood in haste and means to wed at leisure. I told you, I, he was a frantic fool, Hiding his bitter jests in blunt | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026185 | behaviour; And to be noted for a merry man, Hell woo a thousand, point the day of marriage, Make friends, invite, and proclaim the banns; Yet never means to wed where he hath wood. Now must the world point at poor Katherine, And say Lo! there is mad Petruchios wife, If it would please him come and marry her. TRANIO. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026186 | Patience, good Katherine, 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 hes honest. KATHERINA. Would Katherine had never seen him though! [_Exit weeping, followed by Bianca and others._] BAPTISTA. Go, girl, I cannot blame thee now | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026187 | to weep, For such an injury would vex a very saint; Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour. Enter 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 Petruchios coming? BAPTISTA. Is he come? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026188 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026189 | that have been candle-cases, one buckled, another laced; an old rusty sword taen out of the town armoury, with a broken hilt, and chapeless; with two broken points: his horse hipped with an old mothy saddle and stirrups of no kindred; besides, possessed with the glanders and like to mose in the chine; troubled with the lampass, infected with the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026190 | fashions, full of windgalls, sped with spavins, rayed with the yellows, past cure of the fives, stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the bots, swayed in the back and shoulder-shotten; near-legged before, and with a half-checked bit, and a head-stall of sheeps leather, which, being restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repaired with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026191 | knots; one girth six times pieced, and a womans crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her name fairly set down in studs, and here and there pieced with pack-thread. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026192 | on the other, gartered with a red and blue list; an old hat, and the humour of forty fancies prickd int for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian footboy or a gentlemans lackey. TRANIO. Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion; Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-apparelld. BAPTISTA. I am | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026193 | glad hes come, howsoeer 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, thats all one. BIONDELLO. Nay, by Saint Jamy, I hold you a penny, A horse and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026194 | a man Is more than one, And yet not many. Enter Petruchio and Grumio. PETRUCHIO. Come, where be these gallants? Who is at home? BAPTISTA. You are welcome, sir. PETRUCHIO. And yet I come not well. BAPTISTA. And yet you halt not. TRANIO. Not so well apparelld as I wish you were. PETRUCHIO. Were it better, I should rush in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026195 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026196 | unprovided. Fie! doff this habit, shame to your estate, An eye-sore to our solemn festival. TRANIO. And tell us what occasion of import Hath all so long detaind 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026197 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026198 | me: thus Ill visit her. BAPTISTA. But thus, I trust, you will not marry her. PETRUCHIO. Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha done with words; To me shes 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000026199 | fool am I to chat with you When I should bid good morrow to my bride, And seal the title with a lovely kiss! [_Exeunt Petruchio, Grumio and Biondello._] 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. Ill after him and see | 60 | gutenberg |
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