Act II
Scene I
Padua. A room in Baptista’s house.
Enter Katharina and Bianca. | |
Bianca |
Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,
|
Katharina |
Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell
|
Bianca |
Believe me, sister, of all the men alive
|
Katharina | Minion, thou liest. Is’t not Hortensio? |
Bianca |
If you affect him, sister, here I swear
|
Katharina |
O then, belike, you fancy riches more:
|
Bianca |
Is it for him you do envy me so?
|
Katharina | If that be jest, then all the rest was so. Strikes her. |
Enter Baptista. | |
Baptista |
Why, how now, dame! whence grows this insolence?
|
Katharina | Her silence flouts me, and I’ll be revenged. Flies after Bianca. |
Baptista | What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in. Exit Bianca. |
Katharina |
What, will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see
|
Baptista |
Was ever gentleman thus grieved as I?
|
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. | |
Gremio | Good morrow, neighbour Baptista. |
Baptista |
Good morrow, neighbour Gremio.
|
Petruchio |
And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter
|
Baptista | I have a daughter, sir, called Katharina. |
Gremio | You are too blunt: go to it orderly. |
Petruchio |
You wrong me, Signior Gremio: give me leave.
|
Baptista |
You’re welcome, sir; and he, for your good sake.
|
Petruchio |
I see you do not mean to part with her,
|
Baptista |
Mistake me not; I speak but as I find.
|
Petruchio |
Petruchio is my name; Antonio’s son,
|
Baptista | I know him well: you are welcome for his sake. |
Gremio |
Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,
|
Petruchio | O, pardon me, Signior Gremio; I would fain be doing. |
Gremio |
I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your wooing. Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am sure of it. To express the like kindness, myself, that have been more kindly beholding to you than any, freely give unto you this young scholar, presenting Lucentio, 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, accept his service. |
Baptista | A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio. Welcome, good Cambio. To Tranio. But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger: may I be so bold to know the cause of your coming? |
Tranio |
Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own,
|
Baptista | Lucentio is your name; of whence, I pray? |
Tranio | Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio. |
Baptista |
A mighty man of Pisa; by report
|
Enter a Servant. | |
Sirrah, lead these gentlemen
|
|
Petruchio |
Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,
|
Baptista |
After my death the one half of my lands,
|
Petruchio |
And, for that dowry, I’ll assure her of
|
Baptista |
Ay, when the special thing is well obtain’d,
|
Petruchio |
Why, that is nothing; for I tell you, father,
|
Baptista |
Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed!
|
Petruchio |
Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds,
|
Re-enter Hortensio, with his head broke. | |
Baptista | How now, my friend! why dost thou look so pale? |
Hortensio | For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. |
Baptista | What, will my daughter prove a good musician? |
Hortensio |
I think she’ll sooner prove a soldier:
|
Baptista | Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute? |
Hortensio |
Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me.
|
Petruchio |
Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench;
|
Baptista |
Well, go with me and be not so discomfited:
|
Petruchio |
I pray you do. Exeunt all but Petruchio. I will attend her here,
|
Enter Katharina. | |
Good morrow, Kate; for that’s your name, I hear. | |
Katharina |
Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:
|
Petruchio |
You lie, in faith; for you are call’d plain Kate,
|
Katharina |
Moved! in good time: let him that moved you hither
|
Petruchio | Why, what’s a moveable? |
Katharina | A join’d-stool. |
Petruchio | Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me. |
Katharina | Asses are made to bear, and so are you. |
Petruchio | Women are made to bear, and so are you. |
Katharina | No such jade as you, if me you mean. |
Petruchio |
Alas! good Kate, I will not burden thee;
|
Katharina |
Too light for such a swain as you to catch;
|
Petruchio | Should be! should—buzz! |
Katharina | Well ta’en, and like a buzzard. |
Petruchio | O slow-wing’d turtle! shall a buzzard take thee? |
Katharina | Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard. |
Petruchio | Come, come, you wasp; i’ faith, you are too angry. |
Katharina | If I be waspish, best beware my sting. |
Petruchio | My remedy is then, to pluck it out. |
Katharina | Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies. |
Petruchio | Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail. |
Katharina | In his tongue. |
Petruchio | Whose tongue? |
Katharina | Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell. |
Petruchio |
What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again,
|
Katharina | That I’ll try. She strikes him. |
Petruchio | I swear I’ll cuff you, if you strike again. |
Katharina |
So may you lose your arms:
|
Petruchio | A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books! |
Katharina | What is your crest? a coxcomb? |
Petruchio | A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen. |
Katharina | No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven. |
Petruchio | Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour. |
Katharina | It is my fashion, when I see a crab. |
Petruchio | Why, here’s no crab; and therefore look not sour. |
Katharina | There is, there is. |
Petruchio | Then show it me. |
Katharina | Had I a glass, I would. |
Petruchio | What, you mean my face? |
Katharina | Well aim’d of such a young one. |
Petruchio | Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you. |
Katharina | Yet you are wither’d. |
Petruchio | ’Tis with cares. |
Katharina | I care not. |
Petruchio | Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth you scape not so. |
Katharina | I chafe you, if I tarry: let me go. |
Petruchio |
No, not a whit: I find you passing gentle.
|
Katharina | Go, fool, and whom thou keep’st command. |
Petruchio |
Did ever Dian so become a grove
|
Katharina | Where did you study all this goodly speech? |
Petruchio | It is extempore, from my mother-wit. |
Katharina | A witty mother! witless else her son. |
Petruchio | Am I not wise? |
Katharina | Yes; keep you warm. |
Petruchio |
Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, in thy bed:
|
Re-enter Baptista, Gremio, and Tranio. | |
Baptista | Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter? |
Petruchio |
How but well, sir? how but well?
|
Baptista | Why, how now, daughter Katharine! in your dumps? |
Katharina |
Call you me daughter? now, I promise you
|
Petruchio |
Father, ’tis thus: yourself and all the world,
|
Katharina | I’ll see thee hang’d on Sunday first. |
Gremio | Hark, Petruchio; she says she’ll see thee hang’d first. |
Tranio | Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night our part! |
Petruchio |
Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for myself:
|
Baptista |
I know not what to say: but give me your hands;
|
Gremio Tranio |
Amen, say we: we will be witnesses. |
Petruchio |
Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu;
|
Gremio | Was ever match clapp’d up so suddenly? |
Baptista |
Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant’s part,
|
Tranio |
’Twas a commodity lay fretting by you:
|
Baptista | The gain I seek is, quiet in the match. |
Gremio |
No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch.
|
Tranio |
And I am one that love Bianca more
|
Gremio | Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I. |
Tranio | Graybeard, thy love doth freeze. |
Gremio |
But thine doth fry.
|
Tranio | But youth in ladies’ eyes that flourisheth. |
Baptista |
Content you, gentlemen: I will compound this strife:
|
Gremio |
First, as you know, my house within the city
|
Tranio |
That “only” came well in. Sir, list to me:
|
Gremio |
Two thousand ducats by the year of land!
|
Tranio |
Gremio, ’tis known my father hath no less
|
Gremio |
Nay, I have offer’d all, I have no more;
|
Tranio |
Why, then the maid is mine from all the world,
|
Baptista |
I must confess your offer is the best;
|
Tranio | That’s but a cavil: he is old, I young. |
Gremio | And may not young men die, as well as old? |
Baptista |
Well, gentlemen,
|
Gremio |
Adieu, good neighbour. Exit Baptista. Now I fear thee not:
|
Tranio |
A vengeance on your crafty wither’d hide!
|