Whereof I know fhe is not ignorant.

Accept of him, or elfe you do me wrong,
His name is Licio, born in Mantua.

Bap. You're welcome, Sir, and he for your good fake.
But for my daughter Catharine, this I know,
She is not for your turn, the more's my grief.
Pet. I fee you do not mean to part with her ;
Or elfe you like not of my company.

Bap. Miftake me not, I fpeak but what I find.
Whence are you, Sir? what may I call your name?
Pet. Petruchio is my name, Antonio's fon,
A man well known throughout all Italy.

Bap. I know him well: you are welcome for his fake. Gre. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray, let us that àre poor petitioners fpeak too. Baccalare!

marvellous forward.

-you are

Pet. Oh, pardon me, Signior Gremio, I would fain be doing.

Gre. I doubt it not, Sir, but you will curfe your wooing. Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am fure of it. To exprefs. the like kindness myself, that have been more kindly beholden to you than any, free leave give to this young fcholar, that hath been long studying at Reims, [Prefenting Luc.], as cunning in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as the other in mufic and mathematics; his name is Cambio; pray accept his fervice.

Bap. A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio: welcome, good Cambio. But, gentle Sir, methinks you walk like a ftranger, [To Tranio.]; may I be fo bold to know the caufe of your coming?

Tra. Pardon me, Sir, the boldness is mine own, That, being a ftranger in this city here,

Do make myself a fuitor to your daughter,

Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous :

Nor is your firm refolve unknown to me,
In the preferment of the eldest fifter.
This liberty is all that I requeft;

That, upon knowledge of my parentage,

I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo,
And free accefs and favour as the reft.

And, toward the education of your daughters,

I here beftow a simple inftrument,
And this fmall packet of Greek and Latin books.
If you accept them, then their worth is great.

[They greet privately. Bap. Lucentio is your name? of whence I pray? Tra. Of Pifa, Sir, fon to Vincentio.

Bap. A mighty man of Pifa; by report
I know him well; you are very welcome, Sir.
Take you the lute, and you the fet of books,

[To Hortenfio and Lucentio,

You fhall go fee your pupils presently.

Holla, within!

Enter a fervant.

Sirrah, lead these gentlemen

To my two daughters; and then tell them both,
These are their tutors, bid them use them well.
Exit Serv. with Hortenfio and Lucentio

We will go walk a little in the orchard,

And then to dinner. You are paffing welcome;
And fo I pray you all to think yourselves.

Pet. Signior Baptifta, my business afketh hafte,
And every day I cannot come to woo.
You knew my father well, and in him me,
Left folely heir to all his lands and goods,
Which I have better'd, rather than decreas'd;
Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love,
What dowry fhall I have with her to wife?
Bap. After my death the one half of my lands;
And in poffeffion twenty thousand crowns.

Pet. And, for that dowry, I'll affure her of
Her widowhood, be it that the furvive me,
In all my lands and leafes whatsoever;
Let fpecialties be therefore drawn between us,
That covenants may be kept on either hand.

Bap. Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd,
That is, her love; for that is all in all.

Pet. Why, that is nothing: for I tell you, father, I am as peremptory as the proud-minded. And where two raging fires meet together, They do confume the thing that feeds their fury : Though little fire grows great with little wind,

Yet extreme gufts will blow out fire and all:
So I to her, and so fhe yields to me,

For I am rough, and woo not like a babe.

Bap. Well may'ft thou woo, and happy be thy speed! But be thou arm'd for fome unhappy words.

Pet. Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds ; That shake not, though they blow perpetually.

SCENE III. Enter Hortenfio with his head broke.

Bap. How now, my friend? why doft thou look so pale?

Hor. For fear, I promife you, if I look pale. Bap. What! will my daughter prove a good mufiHor. I think fhe'll fooner prove a foldier; Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.

[cian?

Bap. Why then, thou canst not break her to the lute
Hor. Why, no; for the hath broke the lute to me.
I did but tell her the miftook her frets,
And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering,
When, with a most impatient devilish fpirit,
Frets call you them? quoth the; I'll fume with then
And with that word she struck me on the head,
And through the inftrument my pate made way,
And there I ftood amazed for a while,

As on a pillory, looking through the lute;
While fhe did call me rafcal, fidler,

And twangling Jack, with twenty fuch vile terms,
As fhe had ftudied to misuse me fo.

Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lufty wench;
I love her ten times more than e’er I did;

Oh, how I long to have fome chat with her!

Bap. Well, go with me, and be not fo discomfited; Proceed in practice with my younger daughter, She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns. Signior Petruchio, will you go with us, Or fhall I fend my daughter Kate to you? Pet. I pray you, do. I will attend her here,

[Exit Bap. with Grem. Horten. and Tranio. And woo her with fome spirit when she comes. Say that she rail; why, then I'll tell her plain, She fings as fweetly as a nightingale :

Say that the frowns.; I'll fay, the looks as clear

As morning-rofes newly wafh'd with dew:
Say fhe be mute, and will not speak a word
Then I'll commend her volubility,

;

And fay, the uttereth piercing eloquence:
If fhe do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks,
As though the bid me ftay by her a week ;
If the deny to wed, I'll crave the day
When I shall ask the banes, and when be married.
But here fhe comes, and now, Petruchio, fpeak.

SCENE IV. Enter Catharina.

Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, hear. Cath. Well have you heard, but fomething hard of hearing.

They call me Catharine that do talk of me.

Pet. You lye, in faith; for you are called plain Kate And bonny Kate, and fometimes Kate the curs'd; But Kate, the prettieft Kate in Christendom, Kate of Katehall, my fuper-dainty Kate; (For dainties are all cates), and therefore Kate; Take this of me, Kate of my confolation ! Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every town, Thy virtues fpoke of, and thy beauty founded, Yet not fo deeply as to thee belongs; Myfelf am mov'd to woo thee for my wife.

Cath. Mov'd in good time; let him that mov'd you hither,

Remove you hence; I knew you at the first

You were a moveable.

Pet. Why, what's a moveable?

Cath. A join'd ftool.

Pet. Thou haft hit it: come, fit on me, Cath. Affes are made to bear, and fo are you: Pet. Women are made to bear, and fo are you. Cath. No fuch jade, Sir, as you; if me you mean Pet. Alas, good Kate, will not burthen thee; For knowing thee to be but young and lightCath. Too light for fuch a fwain as you to catch And yet as heavy as my weight fhould be*.

Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate; in footh you 'feape not fo. Cath. chafe you if I tarry; let me go.

Pet. No, not a whit; I find you passing gentle : 'Twas told me, you were rough, and coy, and fulten, And now I find report a very lyar;

For thou art pleafant, gamefome, passing courteous,
But flow in fpeech, yet fweet as fpring-time flowers.
Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look afcance,
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will;
Nor haft thou pleasure to be cross in talk.
But thou with mildnefs entertain'd thy wooers,
With gentle conf'rence, foft, and affable.

Pet. Oh, flow-wing'd turtle, fhall a buzzard take thee?
Cath. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.
Pet. Come, come, you wafp, i' faith, you are too angry,
Cath. If I be wafpifh, 'beft beware my fting.
Pet. My remedy is then to pluck it out.

Cath. Ah, if the fool could find it, where it dies.

Pet. Who knows not where a wasp doth wear his sting ?^ In his tail.

Cath. In his tongue.

Pet. Whofe tongue!

Cath Your's if you talk of tails; and fo farewel.

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

Good Kate. I am a gentleman.

Cath. That I'll try.

Pet. I fwear, I'll cuff you, if you
Cath. So may you lofe your arms.

ftrike again.

If you ftrike me, you are no gentleman;

And if no gentleman, why then, no arms.

Pet. A herald, Kate? oh. put me in thy books.
Cath. What is your creít, a coxcomb?

Pet. A comblefs cock, fo Kate will be my hen.

{She firikes him.

Cath. No cock of mine, you crow too like a craven.

Pet. Nay, come, Kate; come, you must not look fo four.
Cath. It is my fashion when I fee a crab.

Pet. Why, here's no crab, and therefore look not so four,
Cat There is, there is.

Pet. Then fhew it me.

Cat. Had I a glass, I would.

Pet. What, you mean my face?

Cath. Well aim'd of fuch a young one..

Pet. Now by St George, I am too young for you,

Cath Yet you are wither'd.

Pet. 'Tis with cares.

Cath. I care not.

Pet. Nay, &c.