I dreamt my lady came and found me dead--


Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave


And breathed such life with kisses in my lips,


Ah me! how sweet is love itself possessd,


When but loves shadows are so rich in joy!


Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?


Then she is well, and nothing can be ill:


And her immortal part with angels lives.


I saw her laid low in her kindreds vault,


O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,


Since you did leave it for my office, sir.


Thou knowst my lodging: get me ink and paper,


And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.


Your looks are pale and wild, and do import


Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.


Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?


And hire those horses; Ill be with thee straight.


Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night.


Lets see for means: O mischief, thou art swift


To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!


And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted


In tatterd weeds, with overwhelming brows,


Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,


Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves


Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds,


Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses,


Were thinly scatterd, to make up a show.


Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.


O, this same thought did but forerun my need;


And this same needy man must sell it me.


As I remember, this should be the house.


Being holiday, the beggars shop is shut.


Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor:


Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have


A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear


As will disperse itself through all the veins


And that the trunk may be discharged of breath


Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantuas law


Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,


And fearst to die? famine is in thy cheeks,


Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes,


Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back;


The world is not thy friend nor the worlds law;


The world affords no law to make thee rich;


Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.


And drink it off; and, if you had the strength


Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.


There is thy gold, worse poison to mens souls,


Doing more murders in this loathsome world,


Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.


I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none.


Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh.


Come, cordial and not poison, go with me


To Juliets grave; for there must I use thee.


This same should be the voice of Friar John.


Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.


And finding him, the searchers of the town,


Where the infectious pestilence did reign,


Seald up the doors, and would not let us forth;


So that my speed to Mantua there was stayd.


I could not send it,--here it is again,--


The letter was not nice but full of charge


May do much danger. Friar John, go hence;


Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight


Within three hours will fair Juliet wake:


And keep her at my cell till Romeo come;


Poor living corse, closed in a dead mans tomb!


SCENE III. A churchyard; in it a tomb belonging to the Capulets.


Enter PARIS, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch


Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof:


Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.


Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,


Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;


So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,


Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,


But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,


As signal that thou hearst something approach.


Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.


[Aside]  I am almost afraid to stand alone


Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.


Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew,--


Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,


Or, wanting that, with tears distilld by moans:


Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.


The boy gives warning something doth approach.


What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,


To cross my obsequies and true loves rite?


What with a torch! muffle me, night, awhile.


Enter ROMEO and BALTHASAR, with a torch, mattock,  and c


Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron.


Hold, take this letter; early in the morning


See thou deliver it to my lord and father.


Give me the light: upon thy life, I charge thee,


Whateer thou hearst or seest, stand all aloof,


But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger


In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone:


But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry


By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint


And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs:


The time and my intents are savage-wild,


I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.


So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that:


Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good fellow.


[Aside]  For all this same, Ill hide me hereabout:


His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.


Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,


Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth,


And, in despite, Ill cram thee with more food!


That murderd my loves cousin, with which grief,


And here is come to do some villanous shame


To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.


Can vengeance be pursued further than death?


Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.


I must indeed; and therefore came I hither.


Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man;


Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these gone;


Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,


By heaven, I love thee better than myself;


Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say,


Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy!


O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch.


In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face.


He told me Paris should have married Juliet:


Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet,


To think it was so? O, give me thy hand,


One writ with me in sour misfortunes book!


A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughterd youth,


For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes


This vault a feasting presence full of light.


Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interrd.


How oft when men are at the point of death


Have they been merry! which their keepers call


Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife!


Death, that hath suckd the honey of thy breath,


Thou art not conquerd; beautys ensign yet


Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,


And deaths pale flag is not advanced there.


Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?


Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain


Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe


And that the lean abhorred monster keeps


For fear of that, I still will stay with thee;


With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here


And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars


From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last!


Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you


The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss


Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!


Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on


The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!


Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.


Enter, at the other end of the churchyard, FRIAR LAURENCE, with a lantern, crow, and spade


Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night


Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Whos there?


Heres one, a friend, and one that knows you well.


Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,


What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light


To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern,


It doth so, holy sir; and theres my master,


My master knows not but I am gone hence;


Stay, then; Ill go alone. Fear comes upon me:


As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,


Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains


What mean these masterless and gory swords


To lie discolourd by this place of peace?


Romeo! O, pale! Who else? what, Paris too?


And steepd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour


I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest


Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep:


Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away.


Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;


And Paris too. Come, Ill dispose of thee


Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;


Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.


Whats here? a cup, closed in my true loves hand?


Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:


O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop


Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,


Yea, noise? then Ill be brief. O happy dagger!


This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn.


The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard:


Go, some of you, whoeer you find attach.


Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain,


And Juliet bleeding, warm, and newly dead,


Who here hath lain these two days buried.


Go, tell the prince: run to the Capulets:


Raise up the Montagues: some others search:


We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;


But the true ground of all these piteous woes


Re-enter some of the Watch, with BALTHASAR


Heres Romeos man; we found him in the churchyard.


Hold him in safety, till the prince come hither.


Re-enter others of the Watch, with FRIAR LAURENCE


Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs and weeps:


We took this mattock and this spade from him,


As he was coming from this churchyard side.


That calls our person from our mornings rest?


What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?


Some Juliet, and some Paris; and all run,


What fear is this which startles in our ears?


Sovereign, here lies the County Paris slain;


And Romeo dead; and Juliet, dead before,


Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes.


Here is a friar, and slaughterd Romeos man;


O heavens! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds!


This dagger hath mistaen--for, lo, his house


And it mis-sheathed in my daughters bosom!


To see thy son and heir more early down.


Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night;


Grief of my sons exile hath stoppd her breath:


What further woe conspires against mine age?


O thou untaught! what manners is in this?


Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,


And know their spring, their head, their


And then will I be general of your woes,


And lead you even to death: meantime forbear,


Yet most suspected, as the time and place


Doth make against me of this direful murder;


And here I stand, both to impeach and purge


Then say at once what thou dost know in this.


I will be brief, for my short date of breath


Romeo, there dead, was husband to that Juliet;


And she, there dead, that Romeos faithful wife:


I married them; and their stoln marriage-day


Was Tybalts dooms-day, whose untimely death


Banishd the new-made bridegroom from the city,


For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined.


You, to remove that siege of grief from her,


Betrothd and would have married her perforce


And, with wild looks, bid me devise some mean


Or in my cell there would she kill herself.


The form of death: meantime I writ to Romeo,


That he should hither come as this dire night,


To help to take her from her borrowd grave,


Being the time the potions force should cease.


But he which bore my letter, Friar John,


Came I to take her from her kindreds vault;


Till I conveniently could send to Romeo:


But when I came, some minute ere the time


She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,


And bear this work of heaven with patience:


But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;


And she, too desperate, would not go with me,


But, as it seems, did violence on herself.


Her nurse is privy: and, if aught in this


Be sacrificed, some hour before his time,


We still have known thee for a holy man.


Wheres Romeos man? what can he say in this?


I brought my master news of Juliets death;


To this same place, to this same monument.


This letter he early bid me give his father,


And threatened me with death, going in the vault,


Where is the countys page, that raised the watch?


Sirrah, what made your master in this place?


He came with flowers to strew his ladys grave;


Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb;


This letter doth make good the friars words,


Their course of love, the tidings of her death:


And here he writes that he did buy a poison


Came to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.


Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!


See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,


That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love.


Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punishd.


This is my daughters jointure, for no more


For I will raise her statue in pure gold;


That while Verona by that name is known,


There shall no figure at such rate be set


A glooming peace this morning with it brings;


The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:


Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;


Some shall be pardond, and some punished:


Ye are a baggage: the Slys are no rogues; look in


the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror.


Therefore paucas pallabris; let the world slide: sessa!


You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?


No, not a denier. Go by, Jeronimy: go to thy cold


Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, Ill answer him


by law: Ill not budge an inch, boy: let him come,


Horns winded. Enter a Lord from hunting, with his train


Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds:


Brach Merriman, the poor cur is embossd;


And couple Clowder with the deep--mouthd brach.


Sawst thou not, boy, how Silver made it good


At the hedge-corner, in the coldest fault?


I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.


And twice to-day pickd out the dullest scent:


Trust me, I take him for the better dog.


But sup them well and look unto them all:


Whats here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?


He breathes, my lord. Were he not warmd with ale,


This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.


O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies!


Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image!


Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.


What think you, if he were conveyd to bed,


Wrappd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers,


And brave attendants near him when he wakes,


Would not the beggar then forget himself?


Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.


It would seem strange unto him when he waked.


Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy.


Then take him up and manage well the jest:


And hang it round with all my wanton pictures:


Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters


And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet:


And if he chance to speak, be ready straight


Say What is it your honour will command?


Full of rose-water and bestrewd with flowers,


Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,


And say Willt please your lordship cool your hands?


Another tell him of his hounds and horse,


And that his lady mourns at his disease:


And when he says he is, say that he dreams,


My lord, I warrant you we will play our part,


And each one to his office when he wakes.


Sirrah, go see what trumpet tis that sounds:


Belike, some noble gentleman that means,


Travelling some journey, to repose him here.


So please your lordship to accept our duty.


With all my heart. This fellow I remember,


Since once he playd a farmers eldest son:


Twas where you wood the gentlewoman so well:


I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part


Was aptly fitted and naturally performd.


I think twas Soto that your honour means.


Well, you are come to me in a happy time;


The rather for I have some sport in hand


Wherein your cunning can assist me much.


There is a lord will hear you play to-night:


And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs,


Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves,


And give them friendly welcome every one:


Let them want nothing that my house affords.


And see him dressd in all suits like a lady:


That done, conduct him to the drunkards chamber;


Tell him from me, as he will win my love,


Such as he hath observed in noble ladies


With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy,


And say What ist your honour will command,


May show her duty and make known her love?


And then with kind embracements, tempting kisses,


To see her noble lord restored to health,


Who for this seven years hath esteemd him


No better than a poor and loathsome beggar:


See this dispatchd with all the haste thou canst:


I know the boy will well usurp the grace,


Voice, gait and action of a gentlewoman:


I long to hear him call the drunkard husband,


And how my men will stay themselves from laughter


When they do homage to this simple peasant.


Ill in to counsel them; haply my presence


Which otherwise would grow into extremes.


SCENE II. A bedchamber in the Lords house.


Enter aloft SLY, with Attendants; some with apparel, others with basin and ewer and appurtenances; and Lord


Willt please your lordship drink a cup of sack?


Willt please your honour taste of these conserves?


What raiment will your honour wear to-day?


I am Christophero Sly; call not me honour nor


lordship: I neer drank sack in my life; and if


you give me any conserves, give me conserves of


beef: neer ask me what raiment Ill wear; for I


have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings


than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay,


sometimes more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my


Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour!


Should be infused with so foul a spirit!


What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher


Sly, old Slys son of Burtonheath, by birth a


pedlar, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a


bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker?


Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if


she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence


on the score for sheer ale, score me up for the


lyingest knave in Christendom. What! I am not


O, this it is that makes your lady mourn!


O, this is it that makes your servants droop!


Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house,


O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth,


Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment


And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.


Look how thy servants do attend on thee,


Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays,


Or wilt thou sleep? well have thee to a couch


Say thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground:


Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trappd,


Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.


Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar


Above the morning lark or wilt thou hunt?


Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them


And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.


Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift


As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.


Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight


Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,


Even as the waving sedges play with wind.


Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood,


Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds,


And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep,


So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn.


Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord:


And till the tears that she hath shed for thee


Like envious floods oer-run her lovely face,


She was the fairest creature in the world;


Or do I dream? or have I dreamd till now?


I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things:


Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;


And once again, a pot o the smallest ale.


Willt please your mightiness to wash your hands?


O, that once more you knew but what you are!


These fifteen years you have been in a dream;


Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept.


These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap.


For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,


Yet would you say ye were beaten out of door;


And say you would present her at the leet,


Because she brought stone jugs and no seald quarts:


Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.


Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid,


As Stephen Sly and did John Naps of Greece


And twenty more such names and men as these


I thank thee: thou shalt not lose by it.


Enter the Page as a lady, with attendants


Marry, I fare well for here is cheer enough.


Here, noble lord: what is thy will with her?


Are you my wife and will not call me husband?


My men should call me lord: I am your goodman.


My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;


And slept above some fifteen year or more.


Being all this time abandond from your bed.


Tis much. Servants, leave me and her alone.


Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you


For your physicians have expressly charged,


That I should yet absent me from your bed:


I hope this reason stands for my excuse.


tarry so long. But I would be loath to fall into


my dreams again: I will therefore tarry in


Your honours players, heating your amendment,


Seeing too much sadness hath congeald your blood,


Therefore they thought it good you hear a play


And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,


Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.


Marry, I will, let them play it. Is not a


comondy a Christmas gambold or a tumbling-trick?


No, my good lord; it is more pleasing stuff.


Well, well seet. Come, madam wife, sit by my side


and let the world slip: we shall neer be younger.


Tranio, since for the great desire I had


And by my fathers love and leave am armd


With his good will and thy good company,


My trusty servant, well approved in all,


A course of learning and ingenious studies.


A merchant of great traffic through the world,


It shall become to serve all hopes conceived,


To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds:


And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,


A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep


And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst.


Glad that you thus continue your resolve


Lets be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray;


Balk logic with acquaintance that you have


And practise rhetoric in your common talk;


Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you;


No profit grows where is no pleasure taen:


In brief, sir, study what you most affect.


Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise.


Such friends as time in Padua shall beget.


Master, some show to welcome us to town.


Enter BAPTISTA, KATHARINA, BIANCA, GREMIO, and HORTENSIO. LUCENTIO and TRANIO stand by


That is, not bestow my youngest daughter


Because I know you well and love you well,


Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure.


[Aside]  To cart her rather: shes too rough for me.


There, There, Hortensio, will you any wife?


To make a stale of me amongst these mates?


Mates, maid! how mean you that? no mates for you,


Unless you were of gentler, milder mould.


Ifaith, sir, you shall never need to fear:


But if it were, doubt not her care should be


To comb your noddle with a three-leggd stool


And paint your face and use you like a fool.


From all such devils, good Lord deliver us!


Hush, master! heres some good pastime toward:


That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward.


Well said, master; mum! and gaze your fill.


And let it not displease thee, good Bianca,


For I will love thee neer the less, my girl.


Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe:


My books and instruments shall be my company,


Hark, Tranio! thou mayst hear Minerva speak.


Signior Baptista, will you be so strange?


Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,


And make her bear the penance of her tongue?


Schoolmasters will I keep within my house,


Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio,


To mine own children in good bringing up:


And so farewell. Katharina, you may stay;


Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not? What,


shall I be appointed hours; as though, belike, I


knew not what to take and what to leave, ha?


You may go to the devils dam: your gifts are so


good, heres none will hold you. Their love is not


so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our nails


together, and fast it fairly out: our cakes dough on


both sides. Farewell: yet for the love I bear my


sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit


man to teach her that wherein she delights, I will


So will I, Signior Gremio: but a word, I pray.


Though the nature of our quarrel yet never brooked


parle, know now, upon advice, it toucheth us both,


that we may yet again have access to our fair


mistress and be happy rivals in Biancos love, to


Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister.


I say, a devil. Thinkest thou, Hortensio, though


her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool


Tush, Gremio, though it pass your patience and mine


to endure her loud alarums, why, man, there be good


fellows in the world, an a man could light on them,


would take her with all faults, and money enough.


I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry with


this condition, to be whipped at the high cross


Faith, as you say, theres small choice in rotten


apples. But come; since this bar in law makes us


friends, it shall be so far forth friendly


maintained all by helping Baptistas eldest daughter


to a husband we set his youngest free for a husband,


and then have tot a fresh. Sweet Bianca! Happy man


be his dole! He that runs fastest gets the ring.


I am agreed; and would I had given him the best


horse in Padua to begin his wooing that would


thoroughly woo her, wed her and bed her and rid the


That love should of a sudden take such hold?


And now in plainness do confess to thee,


Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio,


If I achieve not this young modest girl.


Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst;


Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt.


If love have touchd you, nought remains but so,


Gramercies, lad, go forward; this contents:


The rest will comfort, for thy counsels sound.


Master, you lookd so longly on the maid,


Perhaps you markd not whats the pith of all.


That made great Jove to humble him to her hand.


When with his knees he kissd the Cretan strand.


Saw you no more? markd you not how her sister


Began to scold and raise up such a storm


That mortal ears might hardly endure the din?


And with her breath she did perfume the air:


Nay, then, tis time to stir him from his trance.


I pray, awake, sir: if you love the maid,


Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it stands:


Her eldest sister is so curst and shrewd


That till the father rid his hands of her,


Master, your love must live a maid at home;


And therefore has he closely mewd her up,


Because she will not be annoyd with suitors.


But art thou not advised, he took some care


To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her?


Ay, marry, am I, sir; and now tis plotted.


Both our inventions meet and jump in one.


Not possible; for who shall bear your part,


Keep house and ply his book, welcome his friends,


Basta; content thee, for I have it full.


Nor can we lie distinguishd by our faces


For man or master; then it follows thus;


Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead,


Keep house and port and servants as I should:


Tis hatchd and shall be so: Tranio, at once


Uncase thee; take my colourd hat and cloak:


But I will charm him first to keep his tongue.


In brief, sir, sith it your pleasure is,


For so your father charged me at our parting,


And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid


Whose sudden sight hath thralld my wounded eye.


Where have I been! Nay, how now! where are you?


Master, has my fellow Tranio stolen your clothes? Or


you stolen his? or both? pray, whats the news?


Sirrah, come hither: tis no time to jest,


And therefore frame your manners to the time.


Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life,


Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes,


While I make way from hence to save my life:


The better for him: would I were so too!


So could I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after,


That Lucentio indeed had Baptistas youngest daughter.


But, sirrah, not for my sake, but your masters, I advise


You use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies:


But in all places else your master Lucentio.


Tranio, lets go: one thing more rests, that


thyself execute, to make one among these wooers: if


thou ask me why, sufficeth, my reasons are both good


My lord, you nod; you do not mind the play.


Yes, by Saint Anne, do I. A good matter, surely:


Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady:


SCENE II. Padua. Before HORTENSIOS house.


Hortensio; and I trow this is his house.


Knock, sir! whom should I knock? is there man has


Knock you here, sir! why, sir, what am I, sir, that


And rap me well, or Ill knock your knaves pate.


My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock


And then I know after who comes by the worst.


Faith, sirrah, an youll not knock, Ill ring it;


Ill try how you can sol, fa, and sing it.


Now, knock when I bid you, sirrah villain!


How now! whats the matter? My old friend Grumio!


and my good friend Petruchio! How do you all at Verona?


Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray?


Con tutto il cuore, ben trovato, may I say.


Alla nostra casa ben venuto, molto honorato signor


mio Petruchio. Rise, Grumio, rise: we will compound


Nay, tis no matter, sir, what he leges in Latin.


if this be not a lawful case for me to leave his


service, look you, sir, he bid me knock him and rap


him soundly, sir: well, was it fit for a servant to


use his master so, being perhaps, for aught I see,


two and thirty, a pip out? Whom would to God I had


well knockd at first, Then had not Grumio come by the worst.


And could not get him for my heart to do it.


Knock at the gate! O heavens! Spake you not these


words plain, Sirrah, knock me here, rap me here,


knock me well, and knock me soundly? And come you


Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you.


Petruchio, patience; I am Grumios pledge:


Why, thiss a heavy chance twixt him and you,


Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio.


And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale


Blows you to Padua here from old Verona?


Such wind as scatters young men through the world,


To seek their fortunes farther than at home


Where small experience grows. But in a few,


Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me:


And I have thrust myself into this maze,


Crowns in my purse I have and goods at home,


Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee


And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favourd wife?


Thouldst thank me but a little for my counsel:


And yet Ill promise thee she shall be rich


And very rich: but thourt too much my friend,


Signior Hortensio, twixt such friends as we


Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know


She moves me not, or not removes, at least,


Affections edge in me, were she as rough


Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what his


mind is: Why give him gold enough and marry him to


a puppet or an aglet-baby; or an old trot with neer


a tooth in her head, though she have as many diseases


as two and fifty horses: why, nothing comes amiss,


Petruchio, since we are steppd thus far in,


With wealth enough and young and beauteous,


Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman:


Her only fault, and that is faults enough,


And shrewd and froward, so beyond all measure


That, were my state far worser than it is,


Hortensio, peace! thou knowst not golds effect:


Tell me her fathers name and tis enough;


For I will board her, though she chide as loud


As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack.


Renownd in Padua for her scolding tongue.


I know her father, though I know not her;


I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her;


And therefore let me be thus bold with you


To give you over at this first encounter,


I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour lasts.


O my word, an she knew him as well as I do, she


would think scolding would do little good upon him:


she may perhaps call him half a score knaves or so:


why, thats nothing; an he begin once, hell rail in


his rope-tricks. Ill tell you what sir, an she


stand him but a little, he will throw a figure in


her face and so disfigure her with it that she


shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat.


His youngest daughter, beautiful Binaca,


And her withholds from me and other more,


For those defects I have before rehearsed,


Therefore this order hath Baptista taen,


Till Katharina the curst have got a husband.


A title for a maid of all titles the worst.


Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace,


Have leave and leisure to make love to her


Heres no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks,


how the young folks lay their heads together!


Master, master, look about you: who goes there, ha?


Peace, Grumio! it is the rival of my love.


Hark you, sir: Ill have them very fairly bound:


All books of love, see that at any hand;


And see you read no other lectures to her:


Ill mend it with a largess. Take your paper too,


To whom they go to. What will you read to her?


Whateer I read to her, Ill plead for you


As firmly as yourself were still in place:


Yea, and perhaps with more successful words


Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir.


Grumio, mum! God save you, Signior Gremio.


And you are well met, Signior Hortensio.


Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola.


About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca:


On this young man, for learning and behavior


And other books, good ones, I warrant ye.


A fine musician to instruct our mistress;


Beloved of me; and that my deeds shall prove.


Gremio, tis now no time to vent our love:


Ill tell you news indifferent good for either.


Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met,


Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please.


Hortensio, have you told him all her faults?


I know she is an irksome brawling scold:


If that be all, masters, I hear no harm.


No, sayst me so, friend? What countryman?


My father dead, my fortune lives for me;


And I do hope good days and long to see.


O sir, such a life, with such a wife, were strange!


But if you have a stomach, tot i Gods name:


Think you a little din can daunt mine ears?


Have I not heard the sea puffd up with winds


Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat?


Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,


And heavens artillery thunder in the skies?


Loud larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets clang?


That gives not half so great a blow to hear


My mind presumes, for his own good and ours.


And bear his charging of wooing, whatsoeer.


And so we will, provided that he win her.


I would I were as sure of a good dinner.


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?


He that has the two fair daughters: ist he you mean?


Perhaps, him and her, sir: what have you to do?


Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray.


I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, lets away.


Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no?


No; if without more words you will get you hence.


Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free


That shes the choice love of Signior Gremio.


That shes the chosen of Signior Hortensio.


Softly, my masters! if you be gentlemen,


Do me this right; hear me with patience.


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 fair Bianca have:


And so she shall; Lucentio shall make one,


Though Paris came in hope to speed alone.


What! this gentleman will out-talk us all.


Sir, give him head: I know hell prove a jade.


Hortensio, to what end are all these words?


Did you yet ever see Baptistas daughter?


No, sir; but hear I do that he hath two,


Sir, sir, the firsts for me; let her go by.


Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules;


Sir, understand you this of me in sooth:


The younges t daughter whom you hearken for


Her father keeps from all access of suitors,


The younger then is free and not before.


Must stead us all and me amongst the rest,


And if you break the ice and do this feat,


For our access, whose hap shall be to have her


Sir, you say well and well you do conceive;


And since you do profess to be a suitor,


You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman,


To whom we all rest generally beholding.


Sir, I shall not be slack: in sign whereof,


Please ye we may contrive this afternoon,


And quaff carouses to our mistress health,


Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.


O excellent motion! Fellows, lets be gone.


SCENE I. Padua. A room in BAPTISTAS house.


Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,


That I disdain: but for these other gawds,


Unbind my hands, Ill pull them off myself,


Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell


Whom thou lovest best: see thou dissemble not.


Believe me, sister, of all the men alive


Which I could fancy more than any other.


Ill plead for you myself, but you shall have


Nay then you jest, and now I well perceive


You have but jested with me all this while:


If that be jest, then all the rest was so.


Why, how now, dame! whence grows this insolence?


Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl! she weeps.


For shame, thou helding of a devilish spirit,


Why dost thou wrong her that did neer wrong thee?


When did she cross thee with a bitter word?


Her silence flouts me, and Ill be revenged.


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.


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


And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter


I have a daughter, sir, called Katharina.


You wrong me, Signior Gremio: give me leave.


That, hearing of her beauty and her wit,


Her wondrous qualities and mild behavior,


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,


To instruct her fully in those sciences,


Youre welcome, sir; and he, for your good sake.


But for my daughter Katharina, this I know,


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


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


I know him well: you are welcome for his sake.


Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too:


O, pardon me, Signior Gremio; I would fain be doing.


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 you this young scholar,


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,


But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger:


may I be so bold to know the cause of your coming?


Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own,


That, being a stranger in this city here,


Do make myself a suitor to your daughter,


I may have welcome mongst the rest that woo


And, toward the education of your daughters,


And this small packet of Greek and Latin books:


If you accept them, then their worth is great.


Lucentio is your name; of whence, I pray?


I know him well: you are very welcome, sir,


Take you the lute, and you the set of books;


These are their tutors: bid them use them well.


Exit Servant, with LUCENTIO and HORTENSIO, BIONDELLO following


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.


Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,


Left solely heir to all his lands and goods,


Which I have betterd rather than decreased:


Then tell me, if I get your daughters love,


What dowry shall I have with her to wife?


After my death the one half of my lands,


And in possession twenty thousand crowns.


Her widowhood, be it that she survive me,


Let specialties be therefore drawn between us,


That covenants may be kept on either hand.


Ay, when the special thing is well obtaind,


That is, her love; for that is all in all.


Why, that is nothing: for I tell you, father,


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:


Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed!


But be thou armd for some unhappy words.


Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds,


That shake not, though they blow perpetually.


How now, my friend! why dost thou look so pale?


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


What, will my daughter prove a good musician?


Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.


Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute?


Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me.


I did but 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


And, with that word, she struck me on the head,


And through the instrument my pate made way;


As on a pillory, looking through the lute;


And twangling Jack; with twenty such vile terms,


I love her ten times more than eer I did:


O, how I long to have some chat with her!


Well, go with me and be not so discomfited:


Proceed in practise with my younger daughter;


Shes apt to learn and thankful for good turns.


Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?


And woo her with some spirit when she comes.


Say that she rail; why then Ill tell her plain


Say that she frown, Ill say she looks as clear


Say she be mute and will not speak a word;


And say she uttereth piercing eloquence:


If she do bid me pack, Ill give her thanks,


As though she bid me stay by her a week:


When I shall ask the banns and when be married.


But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak.


Good morrow, Kate; for thats your name, I hear.


Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:


They call me Katharina that do talk of me.


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,


Take this of me, Kate of my consolation;


Hearing thy mildness praised in every town,


Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,


Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.


Moved! in good time: let him that moved you hither


Remove you hence: I knew you at the first


Alas! good Kate, I will not burden thee;


For, knowing thee to be but young and light--


Too light for such a swain as you to catch;


And yet as heavy as my weight should be.


O slow-wingd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee?


Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.


Come, come, you wasp; i faith, you are too angry.


Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies,


Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell.


What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again,


I swear Ill cuff you, if you strike again.


A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.


No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven.


Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour.


Why, heres no crab; and therefore look not sour.


Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.


Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth you scape not so.


No, not a whit: I find you passing gentle.


Twas told me you were rough and coy and sullen,


For thou are 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 report that Kate doth limp?


O slanderous 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.


As Kate this chamber with her princely gait?


And then let Kate be chaste and Dian sportful!


Where did you study all this goodly speech?


Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharina, 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,


And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate


Here comes your father: never make denial;


I must and will have Katharina to my wife.


Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?


It were impossible I should speed amiss.


Why, how now, daughter Katharina! in your dumps?


Call you me daughter? now, I promise you


You have showd a tender fatherly regard,


That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.


Father, tis thus: yourself and all the world,


That talkd of her, have talkd amiss of her:


For shes not froward, but modest as the dove;


She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;


For patience she will prove a second Grissel,


And to conclude, we have greed so well together,


Hark, Petruchio; she says shell see thee


Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night our part!


Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for myself:


If she and I be pleased, whats that to you?


Tis bargaind twixt us twain, being alone,


That she shall still be curst in company.


How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate!


She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss


She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath,


A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.


Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice,


Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests;


I will be sure my Katharina shall be fine.


I know not what to say: but give me your hands;


God send you joy, Petruchio! tis a match.


We will have rings and things and fine array;


And kiss me, Kate, we will be married oSunday.


Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA severally


Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchants part,


Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.


But now, Baptists, to your younger daughter:


I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.


Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.


Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I.


Skipper, stand back: tis age that nourisheth.


But youth in ladies eyes that flourisheth.


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


Say, Signior Gremio, What can you assure her?


First, as you know, my house within the city


Is richly furnished with plate and gold;


Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands;


In ivory coffers I have stuffd my crowns;


In cypress chests my arras counterpoints,


Fine linen, Turkey cushions bossd with pearl,


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,


Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls,


And all things answerable to this portion.


Myself am struck in years, I must confess;


That only came well in. Sir, list to me:


Ill leave her houses three or four as good,


Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure.


What, have I pinchd you, Signior Gremio?


Two thousand ducats by the year of land!


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, whateer thou offerst next.


And she can have no more than all I have:


If you like me, she shall have me and mine.


Why, then the maid is mine from all the world,


By your firm promise: Gremio is out-vied.


And, let your father make her the assurance,


She is your own; else, you must pardon me,


if you should die before him, wheres her dower?


And may not young men die, as well as old?


I am thus resolved: on Sunday next you know


Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca


And so, I take my leave, and thank you both.


Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool


An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy.


A vengeance on your crafty witherd hide!


Must get a father, calld supposed Vincentio;


Do get their children; but in this case of wooing,


A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning.


Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir:


Have you so soon forgot the entertainment


Her sister Katharina welcomed you withal?


And when in music we have spent an hour,


Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.


Preposterous ass, that never read so far


To know the cause why music was ordaind!


And while I pause, serve in your harmony.


Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.


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 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 tuned.


Youll leave his lecture when I am in tune?


That will be never: tune your instrument.


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


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,


The base is right; tis the base knave that jars.


Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love:


Was Ajax, calld so from his grandfather.


I must believe my master; else, I promise you,


I should be arguing still upon that doubt:


Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray,


That I have been thus pleasant with you both.


You may go walk, and give me leave a while:


My lessons make no music in three parts.


Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait,


And watch withal; for, but I be deceived,


Than hath been taught by any of my trade:


And there it is in writing, fairly drawn.


[Reads]  Gamut I am, the ground of all accord,


Call you this gamut? tut, I like it not:


Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice,


To change true rules for old inventions.


Mistress, your father prays you leave your books


And help to dress your sisters chamber up:


Farewell, sweet masters both; I must be gone.


Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay.


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.


SCENE II. Padua. Before BAPTISTAS house.


Enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, TRANIO, KATHARINA, BIANCA, LUCENTIO, and others, attendants


[To TRANIO]  Signior Lucentio, this is the


That Katharina and Petruchio should be married,


What will be said? what mockery will it be,


To want the bridegroom when the priest attends


To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage!


What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?


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 wood in haste and means to wed at leisure.


Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behavior:


Hell woo a thousand, point the day of marriage,


Make feasts, invite friends, and proclaim the banns;


Yet never means to wed where he hath wood.


Now must the world point at poor Katharina,


And say, Lo, there is mad Petruchios wife,


If it would please him come and marry her!


Patience, good Katharina, and Baptista too.


Whatever fortune stays him from his word:


Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise;


Though he be merry, yet withal hes honest.


Would Katharina had never seen him though!


Exit weeping, followed by BIANCA and others


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.


Master, master! news, old news, and such news as


Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchios coming?


When he stands where I am and sees you there.


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 taen out of the


town-armory, 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 fashions, full of wingdalls, sped with


spavins, rayed with 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-chequed bit


and a head-stall of sheeps leather which, being


restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been


often burst and now repaired with knots; one girth


six time 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 packthread.


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 int for a feather: a monster, a


very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian


Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion;


Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-apparelld.


No, sir, I say his horse comes, with him on his back.


Come, where be these gallants? whos at home?


But where is Kate? where is my lovely bride?


How does my father? Gentles, methinks you frown:


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,


Hath all so long detaind you from your wife,


Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear:


Though in some part enforced to digress;


Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse


But where is Kate? I stay too long from her:


The morning wears, tis time we were at church.


See not your bride in these unreverent robes:


Go to my chamber; Put on clothes of mine.


But thus, I trust, you will not marry her.


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.


When I should bid good morrow to my bride,


Ill after him, and see the event of this.


Her fathers liking: which to bring to pass,


It skills not much. well fit him to our turn,--


Were it not that my fellow-school-master


Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage;


Which once performd, let all the world say no,


Ill keep mine own, despite of all the world.


Signior Gremio, came you from the church?


And is the bride and bridegroom coming home?


A bridegroom say you? tis a groom indeed,


A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find.


Why, shes a devil, a devil, the devils dam.


Tut, shes a lamb, a dove, a fool to him!


Ill 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;


The mad-braind bridegroom took him such a cuff


That down fell priest and book and book and priest:


Now take them up, quoth he, if any list.


Trembled and shook; for why, he stampd and swore,


He calls for wine: A health! quoth he, as if


He had been aboard, carousing to his mates


And threw the sops all in the sextons face;


But that his beard grew thin and hungerly


And seemd to ask him sops as he was drinking.


This done, he took the bride about the neck


And kissd her lips with such a clamorous smack


That at the parting all the church did echo:


And I seeing this came thence for very shame;


And after me, I know, the rout is coming.


Re-enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, BIANCA, BAPTISTA, HORTENSIO, GRUMIO, and Train


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.


Make it no wonder; if you knew my business,


You would entreat me rather go than stay.


To this most patient, sweet and virtuous wife:


Dine with my father, drink a health to me;


For I must hence; and farewell to you all.


Let us entreat you stay till after dinner.


But yet not stay, entreat me how you can.


Ay, sir, they be ready: the oats have eaten the horses.


Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day;


No, nor to-morrow, not till I please myself.


The door is open, sir; there lies your way;


You may be jogging whiles your boots are green;


For me, Ill not be gone till I please myself:


Tis like youll prove a jolly surly groom,


That take it on you at the first so roundly.


O Kate, content thee; prithee, be not angry.


Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure.


Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner:


They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command.


Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves:


But for my bonny Kate, she must with me.


Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret;


She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house,


And here she stands, touch her whoever dare;


Ill bring mine action on the proudest he


Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with thieves;


Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch


Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones.


Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing.


Mistress, whats your opinion of your sister?


That, being mad herself, shes madly mated.


Neighbours and friends, though bride and


You know there wants no junkets at the feast.


Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegrooms place:


Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it?


She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, lets go.


Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad masters, and


all foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? was ever


man so rayed? was ever man so weary? I am sent


before to make a fire, and they are coming after to


warm them. Now, were not I a little pot and soon


hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my


tongue to the roof of my mouth, my heart in my


belly, ere I should come by a fire to thaw me: but


I, with blowing the fire, shall warm myself; for,


considering the weather, a taller man than I will


A piece of ice: if thou doubt it, thou mayst slide


from my shoulder to my heel with no greater a run


but my head and my neck. A fire good Curtis.


Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio?


O, ay, Curtis, ay: and therefore fire, fire; cast


She was, good Curtis, before this frost: but, thou


knowest, winter tames man, woman and beast; for it


hath tamed my old master and my new mistress and


Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast.


Am I but three inches? why, thy horn is a foot; and


so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a


fire, or shall I complain on thee to our mistress,


whose hand, she being now at hand, thou shalt soon


feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office?


I prithee, good Grumio, tell me, how goes the world?


A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine; and


therefore fire: do thy duty, and have thy duty; for


my master and mistress are almost frozen to death.


Theres fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news.


Why, Jack, boy! ho! boy! and as much news as


Why, therefore fire; for I have caught extreme cold.


Wheres the cook? is supper ready, the house


trimmed, rushes strewed, cobwebs swept; the


serving-men in their new fustian, their white


stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on?


Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without,


the carpets laid, and every thing in order?


All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news.


First, know, my horse is tired; my master and


Out of their saddles into the dirt; and thereby


This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.


And therefore tis called a sensible tale: and this


cuff was but to knock at your ear, and beseech


listening. Now I begin: Imprimis, we came down a


foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress,--


Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not crossed me,


thou shouldst have heard how her horse fell and she


under her horse; thou shouldst have heard in how


miry a place, how she was bemoiled, how he left her


with the horse upon her, how he beat me because


her horse stumbled, how she waded through the dirt


to pluck him off me, how he swore, how she prayed,


that never prayed before, how I cried, how the


horses ran away, how her bridle was burst, how I


lost my crupper, with many things of worthy memory,


which now shall die in oblivion and thou return


By this reckoning he is more shrew than she.


Ay; and that thou and the proudest of you all shall


find when he comes home. But what talk I of this?


Call forth Nathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas, Philip,


Walter, Sugarsop and the rest: let their heads be


sleekly combed their blue coats brushed and their


garters of an indifferent knit: let them curtsy


with their left legs and not presume to touch a hair


of my masters horse-tail till they kiss their


Do you hear, ho? you must meet my master to


Thou, it seems, that calls for company to


Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them.


Welcome, you;--how now, you;-- what, you;--fellow,


you;--and thus much for greeting. Now, my spruce


companions, is all ready, and all things neat?


All things is ready. How near is our master?


Een at hand, alighted by this; and therefore be


not--Cocks passion, silence! I hear my master.


Where be these knaves? What, no man at door


To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse!


ALL SERVING-MENHere, here, sir; here, sir.


Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! here, sir!


What, no attendance? no regard? no duty?


Where is the foolish knave I sent before?


You peasant swain! you whoreson malt-horse drudge!


And bring along these rascal knaves with thee?


Nathaniels coat, sir, was not fully made,


And Gabriels pumps were all unpinkd i the heel;


And Walters dagger was not come from sheathing:


There were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory;


The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly;


Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you.


Go, rascals, go, and fetch my supper in.


Where are those--Sit down, Kate, and welcome.--


Why, when, I say? Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry.


Off with my boots, you rogues! you villains, when?


Take that, and mend the plucking off the other.


Be merry, Kate. Some water, here; what, ho!


Wheres my spaniel Troilus? Sirrah, get you hence,


And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither:


One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted with.


Where are my slippers? Shall I have some water?


Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily.


You whoreson villain! will you let it fall?


Patience, I pray you; twas a fault unwilling.


A whoreson beetle-headed, flap-eard knave!


Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a stomach.


Will you give thanks, sweet Kate; or else shall I?


What dogs are these! Where is the rascal cook?


How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser,


And serve it thus to me that love it not?


Theretake it to you, trenchers, cups, and all;


Throws the meat,  and c. about the stage


You heedless joltheads and unmannerd slaves!


What, do you grumble? Ill be with you straight.


I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet:


The meat was well, if you were so contented.


I tell thee, Kate, twas burnt and dried away;


For it engenders choler, planteth anger;


And better twere that both of us did fast,


Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric,


Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh.


Be patient; to-morrow t shall be mended,


And, for this night, well fast for company:


Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber.


In her chamber, making a sermon of continency to her;


And rails, and swears, and rates, that she, poor soul,


Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak,


My falcon now is sharp and passing empty;


And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged,


To make her come and know her keepers call,


That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites


That bate and beat and will not be obedient.


She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat;


Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not;


And here Ill fling the pillow, there the bolster,


This way the coverlet, another way the sheets:


That all is done in reverend care of her;


And in conclusion she shall watch all night:


And if she chance to nod Ill rail and brawl


And with the clamour keep her still awake.


This is a way to kill a wife with kindness;


And thus Ill curb her mad and headstrong humour.


He that knows better how to tame a shrew,


SCENE II. Padua. Before BAPTISTAS house.


Ist possible, friend Licio, that Mistress Bianca


I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand.


Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said,


Stand by and mark the manner of his teaching.


Now, mistress, profit you in what you read?


What, master, read you? first resolve me that.


And may you prove, sir, master of your art!


While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart!


Quick proceeders, marry! Now, tell me, I pray,


You that durst swear at your mistress Bianca


Loved none in the world so well as Lucentio.


O despiteful love! unconstant womankind!


But one that scorn to live in this disguise,


And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness,


I will with you, if you be so contented,


See, how they kiss and court! Signior Lucentio,


Never to woo her no more, but do forswear her,


Never to marry with her though she would entreat:


Fie on her! see, how beastly she doth court him!


Would all the world but he had quite forsworn!


For me, that I may surely keep mine oath,


Ere three days pass, which hath as long loved me


As I have loved this proud disdainful haggard.


Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks,


Shall win my love: and so I take my leave,


Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace


Nay, I have taen you napping, gentle love,


Tranio, you jest: but have you both forsworn me?


Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school.


The taming-school! what, is there such a place?


Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master;


That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long,


To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue.


That I am dog-weary: but at last I spied


In gait and countenance surely like a father.


Take in your love, and then let me alone.


Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest?


But then up farther, and as for as Rome;


And come to Padua, careless of your life?


My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard.


To come to Padua. Know you not the cause?


Your ships are stayd at Venice, and the duke,


For private quarrel twixt your duke and him,


Tis, marvel, but that you are but newly come,


You might have heard it else proclaimd about.


From Florence and must here deliver them.


This will I do, and this I will advise you:


First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa?


I know him not, but I have heard of him;


He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say,


In countenance somewhat doth resemble you.


[Aside]  As much as an apple doth an oyster,


And think it not the worst of an your fortunes


His name and credit shall you undertake,


And in my house you shall be friendly lodged:


Look that you take upon you as you should;


You understand me, sir: so shall you stay


Till you have done your business in the city:


Then go with me to make the matter good.


To pass assurance of a dower in marriage


Twixt me and one Baptistas daughter here:


In all these circumstances Ill instruct you:


Go with me to clothe you as becomes you.


No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my life.


The more my wrong, the more his spite appears:


Beggars, that come unto my fathers door,


If not, elsewhere they meet with charity:


Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep,


With oath kept waking and with brawling fed:


And that which spites me more than all these wants,


As who should say, if I should sleep or eat,


Twere deadly sickness or else present death.


I care not what, so it be wholesome food.


Tis passing good: I prithee let me have it.


How say you to a fat tripe finely broild?


I like it well: good Grumio, fetch it me.


What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?


Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.


Why then, the beef, and let the mustard rest.


Nay then, I will not: you shall have the mustard,


Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.


Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave,


That feedst me with the very name of meat:


How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort?


Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully upon me.


To dress thy meat myself and bring it thee:


I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.


What, not a word? Nay, then thou lovest it not;


The poorest service is repaid with thanks;


And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.


Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame.


Come, mistress Kate, Ill bear you company.


[Aside]  Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest me.


Kate, eat apace: and now, my honey love,


With silken coats and caps and golden rings,


With ruffs and cuffs and fardingales and things;


With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery,


With amber bracelets, beads and all this knavery.


What, hast thou dined? The tailor stays thy leisure,


To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure.


Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments;


Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.


A velvet dish: fie, fie! tis lewd and filthy:


Away with it! come, let me have a bigger.


Ill have no bigger: this doth fit the time,


When you are gentle, you shall have one too,


Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak;


And speak I will; I am no child, no babe:


Your betters have endured me say my mind,


And if you cannot, best you stop your ears.


My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,


Or else my heart concealing it will break,


And rather than it shall, I will be free


Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.


Why, thou sayst true; it is a paltry cap,


A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie:


I love thee well, in that thou likest it not.


And it I will have, or I will have none.


Thy gown? why, ay: come, tailor, let us seet.


O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here?


Whats this? a sleeve? tis like a demi-cannon:


What, up and down, carved like an apple-tart?


Heres snip and nip and cut and slish and slash,


Why, what, i devils name, tailor, callst thou this?


[Aside]  I see shes like to have neither cap nor gown.


Marry, and did; but if you be rememberd,


For you shall hop without my custom, sir:


Ill none of it: hence! make your best of it.


More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable:


Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee.


O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread,


Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail!


Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou!


Braved in mine own house with a skein of thread?


Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant;


Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard


As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou livest!


I tell thee, I, that thou hast marrd her gown.


Your worship is deceived; the gown is made


Grumio gave order how it should be done.


I gave him no order; I gave him the stuff.


But how did you desire it should be made?


Face not me: thou hast braved many men; brave not


me; I will neither be faced nor braved. I say unto


thee, I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did


not bid him cut it to pieces: ergo, thou liest.


Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify


The note lies ins throat, if he say I said so.


Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in


the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom


Error i the bill, sir; error i the bill.


I commanded the sleeves should be cut out and


sewed up again; and that Ill prove upon thee,


though thy little finger be armed in a thimble.


bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me.


God-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall have no odds.


Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me.


You are i the right, sir: tis for my mistress.


Villain, not for thy life: take up my mistress


O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for:


Take up my mistress gown to his masters use!


[Aside]  Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid.


Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more.


Tailor, Ill pay thee for thy gown tomorrow:


Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your fathers


Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor;


For tis the mind that makes the body rich;


And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,


What is the jay more precious than the lark,


Because his painted skin contents the eye?


O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse


if thou accountst it shame. lay it on me;


And therefore frolic: we will hence forthwith,


To feast and sport us at thy fathers house.


Go, call my men, and let us straight to him;


And bring our horses unto Long-lane end;


There will we mount, and thither walk on foot


Lets see; I think tis now some seven oclock,


And well we may come there by dinner-time.


And twill be supper-time ere you come there.


Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do,


You are still crossing it. Sirs, lett alone:


[Aside]  Why, so this gallant will command the sun.


SCENE IV. Padua. Before BAPTISTAS house.


Enter TRANIO, and the Pedant dressed like VINCENTIO


Sir, this is the house: please it you that I call?


Tis well; and hold your own, in any case,


With such austerity as longeth to a father.


Now do your duty throughly, I advise you:


But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista?


I told him that your father was at Venice,


And that you lookd for him this day in Padua.


Thourt a tall fellow: hold thee that to drink.


Here comes Baptista: set your countenance, sir.


Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of:


Sir, by your leave: having come to Padua


To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio


Of love between your daughter and himself:


And for the love he beareth to your daughter


And she to him, to stay him not too long,


To have him matchd; and if you please to like


With one consent to have her so bestowd;


Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well.


Your plainness and your shortness please me well.


Right true it is, your son Lucentio here


Doth love my daughter and she loveth him,


Or both dissemble deeply their affections:


And therefore, if you say no more than this,


That like a father you will deal with him


And pass my daughter a sufficient dower,


Your son shall have my daughter with consent.


I thank you, sir. Where then do you know best


As shall with either parts agreement stand?


Not in my house, Lucentio; for, you know,


Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants:


Besides, old Gremio is hearkening still;


There doth my father lie; and there, this night,


Well pass the business privately and well.


Send for your daughter by your servant here:


My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently.


The worst is this, that, at so slender warning,


You are like to have a thin and slender pittance.


It likes me well. Biondello, hie you home,


And, if you will, tell what hath happened,


I pray the gods she may with all my heart!


Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone.


Welcome! one mess is like to be your cheer:


You saw my master wink and laugh upon you?


Faith, nothing; but has left me here behind, to


expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens.


Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking with the


His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper.


The old priest of Saint Lukes church is at your


I cannot tell; expect they are busied about a


counterfeit assurance: take you assurance of her,


cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum: to the


church; take the priest, clerk, and some sufficient


honest witnesses: If this be not that you look for,


I have no more to say, But bid Bianca farewell for


I cannot tarry: I knew a wench married in an


afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley to


stuff a rabbit; and so may you, sir: and so, adieu,


sir. My master hath appointed me to go to Saint


Lukes, to bid the priest be ready to come against


I may, and will, if she be so contented:


She will be pleased; then wherefore should I doubt?


Hap what hap may, Ill roundly go about her:


It shall go hard if Cambio go without her.


Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, HORTENSIO, and Servants


Come on, i Gods name; once more toward our fathers.


Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon!


The moon! the sun: it is not moonlight now.


I say it is the moon that shines so bright.


I know it is the sun that shines so bright.


Now, by my mothers son, and thats myself,


It shall be moon, or star, or what I list,


Evermore crossd and crossd; nothing but crossd!


Forward, I pray, since we have come so far,


And be it moon, or sun, or what you please:


An if you please to call it a rush-candle,


Nay, then you lie: it is the blessed sun.


Then, God be blessd, it is the blessed sun:


But sun it is not, when you say it is not;


What you will have it named, even that it is;


Petruchio, go thy ways; the field is won.


Well, forward, forward! thus the bowl should run,


Good morrow, gentle mistress: where away?


Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,


Such war of white and red within her cheeks!


What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty,


As those two eyes become that heavenly face?


Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee.


Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beautys sake.


A will make the man mad, to make a woman of him.


Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet,


Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art not mad:


This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, witherd,


That have been so bedazzled with the sun


That everything I look on seemeth green:


Now I perceive thou art a reverend father;


Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.


Do, good old grandsire; and withal make known


Which way thou travellest: if along with us,


That with your strange encounter much amazed me,


My name is calld Vincentio; my dwelling Pisa;


A son of mine, which long I have not seen.


Happily we met; the happier for thy son.


And now by law, as well as reverend age,


The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman,


Thy son by this hath married. Wonder not,


Her dowery wealthy, and of worthy birth;


But is it true? or else is it your pleasure,


Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest


Come, go along, and see the truth hereof;


For our first merriment hath made thee jealous.


Well, Petruchio, this has put me in heart.


Have to my widow! and if she be froward,


Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward.


GREMIO discovered. Enter behind BIONDELLO, LUCENTIO, and BIANCA


Softly and swiftly, sir; for the priest is ready.


I fly, Biondello: but they may chance to need thee


Nay, faith, Ill see the church o your back; and


then come back to my masters as soon as I can.


I marvel Cambio comes not all this while.


Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, VINCENTIO, GRUMIO, with Attendants


Sir, heres the door, this is Lucentios house:


My fathers bears more toward the market-place;


Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir.


You shall not choose but drink before you go:


I think I shall command your welcome here,


And, by all likelihood, some cheer is toward.


Theyre busy within; you were best knock louder.


Whats he that knocks as he would beat down the gate?


Hes within, sir, but not to be spoken withal.


What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two, to


Keep your hundred pounds to yourself: he shall


Nay, I told you your son was well beloved in Padua.


Do you hear, sir? To leave frivolous circumstances,


I pray you, tell Signior Lucentio that his father is


come from Pisa, and is here at the door to speak with him.


Thou liest: his father is come from Padua and here


Ay, sir; so his mother says, if I may believe her.


[To VINCENTIO]  Why, how now, gentleman! why, this


is flat knavery, to take upon you another mans name.


Lay hands on the villain: I believe a means to


cozen somebody in this city under my countenance.


I have seen them in the church together: God send


em good shipping! But who is here? mine old


master Vincentio! now we are undone and brought to nothing.


Come hither, you rogue. What, have you forgot me?


Forgot you! no, sir: I could not forget you, for I


What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see


What, my old worshipful old master? yes, marry, sir:


Help, help, help! heres a madman will murder me.


Prithee, Kate, lets stand aside and see the end of


Re-enter Pedant below; TRANIO, BAPTISTA, and Servants


Sir, what are you that offer to beat my servant?


What am I, sir! nay, what are you, sir? O immortal


gods! O fine villain! A silken doublet! a velvet


hose! a scarlet cloak! and a copatain hat! O, I


am undone! I am undone! while I play the good


husband at home, my son and my servant spend all at


Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your


habit, but your words show you a madman. Why, sir,


what cerns it you if I wear pearl and gold? I


thank my good father, I am able to maintain it.


Thy father! O villain! he is a sailmaker in Bergamo.


You mistake, sir, you mistake, sir. Pray, what do


His name! as if I knew not his name: I have brought


him up ever since he was three years old, and his


Away, away, mad ass! his name is Lucentio and he is


mine only son, and heir to the lands of me, Signior Vincentio.


Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his master! Lay hold


on him, I charge you, in the dukes name. O, my


son, my son! Tell me, thou villain, where is my son Lucentio?


Carry this mad knave to the gaol. Father Baptista,


I charge you see that he be forthcoming.


Stay, officer: he shall not go to prison.


Talk not, Signior Gremio: I say he shall go to prison.


Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be


cony-catched in this business: I dare swear this


Then thou wert best say that I am not Lucentio.


Yes, I know thee to be Signior Lucentio.


Away with the dotard! to the gaol with him!


Thus strangers may be hailed and abused: O


Re-enter BIONDELLO, with LUCENTIO and BIANCA


O! we are spoiled and--yonder he is: deny him,


forswear him, or else we are all undone.


Exeunt BIONDELLO, TRANIO, and Pedant, as fast as may be


That have by marriage made thy daughter mine,


While counterfeit supposes bleared thine eyne.


Heres packing, with a witness to deceive us all!


That faced and braved me in this matter so?


Love wrought these miracles. Biancas love


While he did bear my countenance in the town;


What Tranio did, myself enforced him to;


Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake.


Ill slit the villains nose, that would have sent


But do you hear, sir? have you married my daughter


Fear not, Baptista; we will content you, go to: but


I will in, to be revenged for this villany.


And I, to sound the depth of this knavery.


Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown.


My cake is dough; but Ill in among the rest,


Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast.


Husband, lets follow, to see the end of this ado.


No, sir, God forbid; but ashamed to kiss.


Why, then lets home again. Come, sirrah, lets away.


Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now pray thee, love, stay.


Better once than never, for never too late.


Enter BAPTISTA, VINCENTIO, GREMIO, the Pedant,  LUCENTIO, BIANCA, PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, HORTENSIO,  and Widow, TRANIO, BIONDELLO, and GRUMIO the Serving-men with Tranio bringing in a banquet


At last, though long, our jarring notes agree:


And time it is, when raging war is done,


To smile at scapes and perils overblown.


While I with self-same kindness welcome thine.


And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow,


Feast with the best, and welcome to my house:


After our great good cheer. Pray you, sit down;


Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat!


Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio.


For both our sakes, I would that word were true.


Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow.


You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense:


He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.


Conceives by me! How likes Hortensio that?


My widow says, thus she conceives her tale.


Very well mended. Kiss him for that, good widow.


He that is giddy thinks the world turns round:


I pray you, tell me what you meant by that.


Your husband, being troubled with a shrew,


A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down.


How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks?


Believe me, sir, they butt together well.


Would say your head and butt were head and horn.


Ay, mistress bride, hath that awakend you?


Ay, but not frighted me; therefore Ill sleep again.


Nay, that you shall not: since you have begun,


Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush;


And then pursue me as you draw your bow.


She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio.


This bird you aimd at, though you hit her not;


Therefore a health to all that shot and missd.


O, sir, Lucentio slippd me like his greyhound,


Which runs himself and catches for his master.


A good swift simile, but something currish.


Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself:


Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay.


I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio.


Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here?


And, as the jest did glance away from me,


Tis ten to one it maimd you two outright.


I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.


Well, I say no: and therefore for assurance


To come at first when he doth send for her,


Shall win the wager which we will propose.


Ill venture so much of my hawk or hound,


Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me.


Ill have no halves; Ill bear it all myself.


Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse.


Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife


Do what you can, yours will not be entreated.


She says you have some goodly jest in hand:


She will not come: she bids you come to her.


Worse and worse; she will not come! O vile,


The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.


Now, by my holidame, here comes Katharina!


What is your will, sir, that you send for me?


Where is your sister, and Hortensios wife?


Go fetch them hither: if they deny to come.


Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands:


Away, I say, and bring them hither straight.


Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.


Marry, peace it bodes, and love and quiet life,


And, to be short, what not, thats sweet and happy?


Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns;


For she is changed, as she had never been.


See where she comes and brings your froward wives


Re-enter KATHARINA, with BIANCA and Widow


Katharina, that cap of yours becomes you not:


Off with that bauble, throw it under-foot.


Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh,


Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time.


The more fool you, for laying on my duty.


Katharina, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women


What duty they do owe their lords and husbands.


Come, come, youre mocking: we will have no telling.


Come on, I say; and first begin with her.


I say she shall: and first begin with her.


Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow,


And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,


To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor:


It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads,


Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds,


A woman moved is like a fountain troubled,


Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty;


And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty


Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it.


Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,


Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee,


And for thy maintenance commits his body


To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,


Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe;


And craves no other tribute at thy hands


But love, fair looks and true obedience;


Such duty as the subject owes the prince


And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,


And graceless traitor to her loving lord?


To offer war where they should kneel for peace;


When they are bound to serve, love and obey.


Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth,


But that our soft conditions and our hearts


Should well agree with our external parts?


Come, come, you froward and unable worms!


My mind hath been as big as one of yours,


My heart as great, my reason haply more,


To bandy word for word and frown for frown;


But now I see our lances are but straws,


Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,


That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.


Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,


And place your hands below your husbands foot:


Why, theres a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.


Well, go thy ways, old lad; for thou shalt hat.


Tis a good hearing when children are toward.


But a harsh hearing when women are froward.


We three are married, but you two are sped.


Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white;


And, being a winner, God give you good night!


Now, go thy ways; thou hast tamed a curst shrew.


Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed so.


SCENE I. On a ship at sea: a tempestuous noise


Good, speak to the mariners: fall tot, yarely,


or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.


Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!


yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the


masters whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind,


Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO, and others


Good boatswain, have care. Wheres the master?


Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your


When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers


for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not.


Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.


None that I more love than myself. You are a


counsellor; if you can command these elements to


silence, and work the peace of the present, we will


not hand a rope more; use your authority: if you


cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make


yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of


the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, good hearts! Out


I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he


hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is


perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his


hanging: make the rope of his destiny our cable,


for our own doth little advantage. If he be not


born to be hanged, our case is miserable.


Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring


A plague upon this howling! they are louder than


Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO


Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give oer


A pox o your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,


Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker!


We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.


Ill warrant him for drowning; though the ship were


no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an


Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses off to


All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!


The king and prince at prayers! lets assist them,


We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:


This wide-chappd rascal--would thou mightst lie drowning


Though every drop of water swear against it


A confused noise within:   Mercy on us!--  We split, we split!--Farewell, my wife and  children!-- Farewell, brother!--We split, we split, we split!


Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an


acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any


thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain


SCENE II. The island. Before PROSPEROS cell.


If by your art, my dearest father, you have


Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.


The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,


But that the sea, mounting to the welkins cheek,


With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel,


Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,


Dashd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock


Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perishd.


Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere


It should the good ship so have swallowd and


No more amazement: tell your piteous heart


I have done nothing but in care of thee,


Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who


Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing


Of whence I am, nor that I am more better


Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,


I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,


Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.


The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touchd


So safely ordered that there is no soul--


Which thou heardst cry, which thou sawst sink. Sit down;


The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;


Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember


I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not


And rather like a dream than an assurance


Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it


That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else


If thou rememberst aught ere thou camest here,


Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,


She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father


Was Duke of Milan; and thou his only heir


What foul play had we, that we came from thence?


By foul play, as thou sayst, were we heaved thence,


To think o the teen that I have turnd you to,


Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.


My brother and thy uncle, calld Antonio--


I pray thee, mark me--that a brother should


Through all the signories it was the first


And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed


Without a parallel; those being all my study,


And to my state grew stranger, being transported


And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle--


Being once perfected how to grant suits,


How to deny them, who to advance and who


The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed em,


Or else new formd em; having both the key


Of officer and office, set all hearts i the state


To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was


The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,


And suckd my verdure out ont. Thou attendst not.


I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated


To closeness and the bettering of my mind


With that which, but by being so retired,


Oer-prized all popular rate, in my false brother


As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,


A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,


But what my power might else exact, like one


Who having into truth, by telling of it,


He was indeed the duke; out o the substitution


And executing the outward face of royalty,


With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing--


To have no screen between this part he playd


And him he playd it for, he needs will be


Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library


Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties


He thinks me now incapable; confederates--


So dry he was for sway--wi the King of Naples


To give him annual tribute, do him homage,


Subject his coronet to his crown and bend


The dukedom yet unbowd--alas, poor Milan!--


Mark his condition and the event; then tell me


To me inveterate, hearkens my brothers suit;


Which was, that he, in lieu o the premises


Of homage and I know not how much tribute,


Out of the dukedom and confer fair Milan


With all the honours on my brother: whereon,


The gates of Milan, and, i the dead of darkness,


The ministers for the purpose hurried thence


I, not remembering how I cried out then,


And then Ill bring thee to the present business


Which nows upons; without the which this story


My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,


So dear the love my people bore me, nor set


With colours fairer painted their foul ends.


Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared


Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats


Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,


To cry to the sea that roard to us, to sigh


To the winds whose pity, sighing back again,


Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile.


When I have deckd the sea with drops full salt,


Under my burthen groand; which raised in me


Some food we had and some fresh water that


Out of his charity, being then appointed


Master of this design, did give us, with


Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries,


Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,


Knowing I loved my books, he furnishd me


Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.


Here in this island we arrived; and here


Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit


Than other princesses can that have more time


For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.


Heavens thank you fort! And now, I pray you, sir,


For still tis beating in my mind, your reason


By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,


Brought to this shore; and by my prescience


If now I court not but omit, my fortunes


Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions:


Thou art inclined to sleep; tis a good dulness,


And give it way: I know thou canst not choose.


Come away, servant, come. I am ready now.


All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come


To answer thy best pleasure; bet to fly,


On the curld clouds, to thy strong bidding task


Performd to point the tempest that I bade thee?


I boarded the kings ship; now on the beak,


Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,


I flamed amazement: sometime Ild divide,


And burn in many places; on the topmast,


The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,


Then meet and join. Joves lightnings, the precursors


O the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary


And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks


Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune


Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble,


Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil


Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners


Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,


Then all afire with me: the kings son, Ferdinand,


With hair up-staring,--then like reeds, not hair,--


Was the first man that leapd; cried, Hell is empty


On their sustaining garments not a blemish,


But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,


In troops I have dispersed them bout the isle.


Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs


In an odd angle of the isle and sitting,


Is the kings ship; in the deep nook, where once


Thou calldst me up at midnight to fetch dew


From the still-vexd Bermoothes, there shes hid:


Who, with a charm joind to their sufferd labour,


I have left asleep; and for the rest o the fleet


Which I dispersed, they all have met again


Supposing that they saw the kings ship wreckd


Exactly is performd: but theres more work.


At least two glasses. The time twixt six and now


Must by us both be spent most preciously.


Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,


Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,


Remember I have done thee worthy service;


Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served


Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise


Thou dost, and thinkst it much to tread the ooze


To run upon the sharp wind of the north,


To do me business in the veins o the earth


Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot


The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy


Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?