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Good morrow, Kate- for that's your name, I hear. |
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 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 Kates, 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 sounded, |
Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs, |
Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife. |
KATHERINA. 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. |
PETRUCHIO. Why, what's a moveable? |
KATHERINA. A join'd-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 you, if me you mean. |
PETRUCHIO. Alas, good Kate, I will not burden 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- buzz! |
KATHERINA. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard. |
PETRUCHIO. O, slow-wing'd turtle, shall a buzzard take thee? |
KATHERINA. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a 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. 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 I'll try. [She strikes him] |
PETRUCHIO. I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again. |
KATHERINA. So may you lose your arms. |
If you strike me, you are no gentleman; |
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 my fashion, when I see a crab. |
PETRUCHIO. Why, here's 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 aim'd of such a young one. |
PETRUCHIO. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you. |
KATHERINA. Yet you are wither'd. |
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 liar; |
For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous, |
But slow in speech, yet sweet as springtime 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 entertain'st thy wooers; |
With gentle conference, soft and affable. |
Why does the world report that Kate doth limp? |
O sland'rous 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 keep'st command. |
PETRUCHIO. Did ever Dian so become a grove |
As Kate this chamber with her 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 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 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 |
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