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Kate. Where did you study all this goodly speech?
Pet. It is extempore, from my mother-wit.
Kath. A witty mother! witless else her son.
Pet. Am I not wise?
Kath. Yes ; keep you warm.
Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, in thy bed :
And therefore, setting all this chat aside,
Thus in plain terms :-Your father hath consented,
That you shall be my wife; your dowry 'greed on;
And, will you, nill you, I will marry you.
Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn;
For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty,
(Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well,)
Thou must be married to no man but me:
For I am he, am born to tame you, Kate ;
And bring you from a wild cat to a Kate
Conformable, as other houshold Kates.
Here comes your father; never make denial,
I must and will have Katharine to my wife.
Re-enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and TRANIO.
Signior Petruchio : How speed you with
My daughter ?
Pet. How but well, sir ? how but well?
It were impossible, I should speed amiss.
Bap. Why, how now, daughter Katharine ? in your
dumps ? Kath. Call you me, daughter? now I promise you, You have show'd a tender fatherly regard, To wish me wed to one half lunatick;
A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Jack,
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.
Pet. Father, 'tis thus,-yourself and all the world,
That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her;
If she be curst, it is for policy:
For she's 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 Roman Lucrece for her chastity:
And to conclude,—we have 'greed so well together,
That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.
Kath. I'll see thee hang’d on Sunday first.
Gre. Hark, Petruchio! she says, she'll see thee hang’d
first. Tra. Is this your speeding ? nay, then, good night
our part ! Pet. Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for my
If she and I be pleas’d, what's that to you?
'Tis bargain’d 'twixt us twain, being alone,
That she shall still be curst in company.
I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe
How much she loves me: 0, the kindest Kate!-
She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss
She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twink she won me to her love.
O, you are novices ! 'tis a world to see,
How tane, when men and women are alone,
A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.
Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day :-
Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests;
I will be sure, my Katharine shall be fine.
Bap. I know not what to say: but give me your
God send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match.
Gre. Tra. Amen, say we; we will be witnesses.
Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu ;
I will to Venice, Sunday comes apace :
We will have rings, and things, and fine array
And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o’Sunday.
[Ereunt Petruchio and Katharine severally. Gre. Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly? Bap. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's
part, And venture madly on a desperate mart.
Tra. 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you: ’Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.
Bap. The gain I seek is-quiet in the match.
Gre. No doubt, but he hath got a quiet catch.
But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter;
Now is the day we long have looked for ;
I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.
Tra. And I am one, that love Bianca more
Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.
Gre. Youngling! thou canst not love so dear as I.
Tra. Grey-beard ! thy love doth freeze.
Gre. But thine doth fry.
Skipper, stand back; 'tis age, that nourisheth.
Tra. But youth, in ladies' eyes that flourisheth.
Bap. Content you, gentlemen ; I'll compound this
'Tis deeds, must win the prize; and he, of both,
That can assure my daughter greatest dower,
Shall have Bianca's love.-
Say, signior Gremio, what can you assure her?
Gre. First, as you know, my house within the city
Is richly furnished with plate and gold;
Basops, and ewers, to lave her dainty hands;
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry :
In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns;
In cypress chests my arras, counterpoints,
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
Fine linen, Turky cushions boss'd with pearl,
Valance of Venice gold in needle-work,
Pewter and brass, and all things that belong
To house, or house-keeping: 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;
And, if I die to-morrow, this is hers,
If, whilst I live, she will be only mine.
Tra. That, only, came well in.-Sir, list to me;
I am my father's heir, and only son :
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
I'll leave her houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
Old signior Gremio has in Padua;
Besides two thousand ducats by the year,
Of truitful land, all which shall be her jointure.
What, have I pinch'd you, signior Gremio?
Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year, of land !
My lanıl amounts not to so much in all:
That she shall have: besides an argosy,
That now is lying in Marseilles' road :
What, have I chok'd you with an argosy?
Tra. Gremio, 'tis known, my father hath no less Than three great argosies : besides two galliasses, And twelve tight gallies : these I will assure her, And twice as much, whate'er thou offer’st next.
Gre. Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more; And she can have no more than all I have;If you like me,
she shall have me and mine. Tra. Why, then the maid is mine from all the world, By your firm promise; Gremio is out-vied.
Bap. I must confess, your offer is the best;
And, let your father make her the assurance,
She is your own; else, you must pardon me:
If you should die before him, where's her dower ?
Tra. That's but a cavil; he is old, I young.
Gre. And may not young men die, as well as old ?
Bap. Well, gentlemen,
I am thus resolv’d:-On Sunday next, you know,
My daughter Katharine is to be married :
Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca
Be bride to
make this assurance; If not, to signior Gremio: And so I take my leave, and thank you both. [Erit.
Gre. Adieu, good neighbour.—Now I fear thee not; Sirrah, young gamester, your father were a fool To give thee all, and, in his waning age, Set foot under thy table : Tut! a toy ! An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. [Erit.
Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide ! Yet I have faced it with a card of ten. 'Tis in my head to do my master good ::