Part 2

TRANIO. Master, you look’d so longly on the maid. Perhaps you mark’d not what’s the pith of all.

LUCENTIO. O, yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face, Such as the daughter of Agenor had, That made great Jove to humble him to her hand, When with his knees he kiss’d the Cretan strand.

TRANIO. Saw you no more? mark’d you not how her sister Began to scold and raise up such a storm That mortal ears might hardly endure the din?

LUCENTIO. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move, And with her breath she did perfume the air; Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her.

TRANIO. 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 elder 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 mew’d her up, Because she will not be annoy’d with suitors.

LUCENTIO. Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father’s he! But art thou not advis’d he took some care To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her?

TRANIO. Ay, marry, am I, sir, and now ’tis plotted.

LUCENTIO. I have it, Tranio.

TRANIO. Master, for my hand, Both our inventions meet and jump in one.

LUCENTIO. Tell me thine first.

TRANIO. You will be schoolmaster, And undertake the teaching of the maid: That’s your device.

LUCENTIO. It is: may it be done?

TRANIO. Not possible; for who shall bear your part And be in Padua here Vincentio’s son; Keep house and ply his book, welcome his friends; Visit his countrymen, and banquet them?

LUCENTIO. _Basta_, content thee, for I have it full. We have not yet been seen in any house, Nor can we be distinguish’d 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; I will some other be; some Florentine, Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa. ’Tis hatch’d, and shall be so: Tranio, at once Uncase thee; take my colour’d hat and cloak. When Biondello comes, he waits on thee; But I will charm him first to keep his tongue.

[_They exchange habits_]

TRANIO. So had you need. In brief, sir, sith it your pleasure is, And I am tied to be obedient; For so your father charg’d me at our parting, ‘Be serviceable to my son,’ quoth he, Although I think ’twas in another sense: I am content to be Lucentio, Because so well I love Lucentio.

LUCENTIO. Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves; And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid Whose sudden sight hath thrall’d my wounded eye.

Enter Biondello.

Here comes the rogue. Sirrah, where have you been?

BIONDELLO. Where have I been? Nay, how now! where are you? Master, has my fellow Tranio stol’n your clothes? Or you stol’n his? or both? Pray, what’s the news?

LUCENTIO. Sirrah, come hither: ’tis no time to jest, And therefore frame your manners to the time. Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life, Puts my apparel and my count’nance on, And I for my escape have put on his; For in a quarrel since I came ashore I kill’d a man, and fear I was descried. Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes, While I make way from hence to save my life. You understand me?

BIONDELLO. I, sir! Ne’er a whit.

LUCENTIO. And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth: Tranio is changed to Lucentio.

BIONDELLO. The better for him: would I were so too!

TRANIO. So could I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after, That Lucentio indeed had Baptista’s youngest daughter. But, sirrah, not for my sake but your master’s, I advise You use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies: When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio; But in all places else your master, Lucentio.

LUCENTIO. Tranio, let’s 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 and weighty.

[_Exeunt._]

[_The Presenters above speak._]

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

SLY. Yes, by Saint Anne, I do. A good matter, surely: comes there any more of it?

PAGE. My lord, ’tis but begun.

SLY. ’Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady: would ’twere done!

[_They sit and mark._]

## SCENE II. Padua. Before Hortensio’s house.

Enter Petruchio and his man Grumio.

PETRUCHIO. Verona, for a while I take my leave, To see my friends in Padua; but of all My best beloved and approved friend, Hortensio; and I trow this is his house. Here, sirrah Grumio, knock, I say.

GRUMIO. Knock, sir? Whom should I knock? Is there any man has rebused your worship?

PETRUCHIO. Villain, I say, knock me here soundly.

GRUMIO. Knock you here, sir? Why, sir, what am I, sir, that I should knock you here, sir?

PETRUCHIO. Villain, I say, knock me at this gate; And rap me well, or I’ll knock your knave’s pate.

GRUMIO. My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock you first, And then I know after who comes by the worst.

PETRUCHIO. Will it not be? Faith, sirrah, and you’ll not knock, I’ll ring it; I’ll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it.

[_He wrings Grumio by the ears._]

GRUMIO. Help, masters, help! my master is mad.

PETRUCHIO. Now, knock when I bid you, sirrah villain!

Enter Hortensio.

HORTENSIO. How now! what’s the matter? My old friend Grumio! and my good friend Petruchio! How do you all at Verona?

PETRUCHIO. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray? _Con tutto il cuore ben trovato_, may I say.

HORTENSIO. _Alla nostra casa ben venuto; molto honorato signor mio Petruchio._ Rise, Grumio, rise: we will compound this quarrel.

GRUMIO. Nay, ’tis no matter, sir, what he ’leges in Latin. If this be not a lawful cause 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 knock’d at first, then had not Grumio come by the worst.

PETRUCHIO. A senseless villain! Good Hortensio, I bade the rascal knock upon your gate, And could not get him for my heart to do it.

GRUMIO. 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 now with ‘knocking at the gate’?

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

HORTENSIO. Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio’s pledge; Why, this’s 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?

PETRUCHIO. 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: Antonio, my father, is deceas’d, And I have thrust myself into this maze, Haply to wive and thrive as best I may; Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home, And so am come abroad to see the world.

HORTENSIO. Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour’d wife? Thou’dst thank me but a little for my counsel; And yet I’ll promise thee she shall be rich, And very rich: but th’art too much my friend, And I’ll not wish thee to her.

PETRUCHIO. Signior Hortensio, ’twixt such friends as we Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know One rich enough to be Petruchio’s wife, As wealth is burden of my wooing dance, Be she as foul as was Florentius’ love, As old as Sibyl, and as curst and shrewd As Socrates’ Xanthippe or a worse, She moves me not, or not removes, at least, Affection’s edge in me, were she as rough As are the swelling Adriatic seas: I come to wive it wealthily in Padua; If wealthily, then happily in Padua.

GRUMIO. 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 ne’er a tooth in her head, though she have as many diseases as two-and-fifty horses: why, nothing comes amiss, so money comes withal.

HORTENSIO. Petruchio, since we are stepp’d thus far in, I will continue that I broach’d in jest. I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife With wealth enough, and young and beauteous; Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman: Her only fault,—and that is faults enough,— Is, that she is intolerable curst, And shrewd and froward, so beyond all measure, That, were my state far worser than it is, I would not wed her for a mine of gold.

PETRUCHIO. Hortensio, peace! thou know’st not gold’s effect: Tell me her father’s name, and ’tis enough; For I will board her, though she chide as loud As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack.

HORTENSIO. Her father is Baptista Minola, An affable and courteous gentleman; Her name is Katherina Minola, Renown’d in Padua for her scolding tongue.

PETRUCHIO. I know her father, though I know not her; And he knew my deceased father well. 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, Unless you will accompany me thither.

GRUMIO. I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour lasts. O’ my word, and 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, that’s nothing; and he begin once, he’ll rail in his rope-tricks. I’ll tell you what, sir, and 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. You know him not, sir.

HORTENSIO. Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee, For in Baptista’s keep my treasure is: He hath the jewel of my life in hold, His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca, And her withholds from me and other more, Suitors to her and rivals in my love; Supposing it a thing impossible, For those defects I have before rehears’d, That ever Katherina will be woo’d: Therefore this order hath Baptista ta’en, That none shall have access unto Bianca Till Katherine the curst have got a husband.

GRUMIO. Katherine the curst! A title for a maid of all titles the worst.

HORTENSIO. Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace, And offer me disguis’d in sober robes, To old Baptista as a schoolmaster Well seen in music, to instruct Bianca; That so I may, by this device at least Have leave and leisure to make love to her, And unsuspected court her by herself.

GRUMIO. Here’s no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks, how the young folks lay their heads together!

Enter Gremio and Lucentio disguised, with books under his arm.

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

HORTENSIO. Peace, Grumio! It is the rival of my love. Petruchio, stand by awhile.

GRUMIO. A proper stripling, and an amorous!

GREMIO. O! very well; I have perus’d the note. Hark you, sir; I’ll have them very fairly bound: All books of love, see that at any hand, And see you read no other lectures to her. You understand me. Over and beside Signior Baptista’s liberality, I’ll mend it with a largess. Take your papers too, And let me have them very well perfum’d; For she is sweeter than perfume itself To whom they go to. What will you read to her?

LUCENTIO. Whate’er I read to her, I’ll plead for you, As for my patron, stand you so assur’d, As firmly as yourself were still in place; Yea, and perhaps with more successful words Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir.

GREMIO. O! this learning, what a thing it is.

GRUMIO. O! this woodcock, what an ass it is.

PETRUCHIO. Peace, sirrah!

HORTENSIO. Grumio, mum! God save you, Signior Gremio!

GREMIO. And you are well met, Signior Hortensio. Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola. I promis’d to enquire carefully About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca; And by good fortune I have lighted well On this young man; for learning and behaviour Fit for her turn, well read in poetry And other books, good ones, I warrant ye.

HORTENSIO. ’Tis well; and I have met a gentleman Hath promis’d me to help me to another, A fine musician to instruct our mistress: So shall I no whit be behind in duty To fair Bianca, so belov’d of me.

GREMIO. Belov’d of me, and that my deeds shall prove.

GRUMIO. [_Aside._] And that his bags shall prove.

HORTENSIO. Gremio, ’tis now no time to vent our love: Listen to me, and if you speak me fair, I’ll tell you news indifferent good for either. Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met, Upon agreement from us to his liking, Will undertake to woo curst Katherine; Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please.

GREMIO. So said, so done, is well. Hortensio, have you told him all her faults?

PETRUCHIO. I know she is an irksome brawling scold; If that be all, masters, I hear no harm.

GREMIO. No, say’st me so, friend? What countryman?

PETRUCHIO. Born in Verona, old Antonio’s son. My father dead, my fortune lives for me; And I do hope good days and long to see.

GREMIO. O sir, such a life, with such a wife, were strange! But if you have a stomach, to’t a God’s name; You shall have me assisting you in all. But will you woo this wild-cat?

PETRUCHIO. Will I live?

GRUMIO. Will he woo her? Ay, or I’ll hang her.

PETRUCHIO. Why came I hither but to that intent? Think you a little din can daunt mine ears? Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea, puff’d up with winds, Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? Have I not heard great ordnance in the field, And heaven’s artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in a pitched battle heard Loud ’larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets’ clang? And do you tell me of a woman’s tongue, That gives not half so great a blow to hear As will a chestnut in a farmer’s fire? Tush, tush! fear boys with bugs.

GRUMIO. [_Aside_] For he fears none.

GREMIO. Hortensio, hark: This gentleman is happily arriv’d, My mind presumes, for his own good and yours.

HORTENSIO. I promis’d we would be contributors, And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe’er.

GREMIO. And so we will, provided that he win her.

GRUMIO. I would I were as sure of a good dinner.

Enter Tranio brave, and Biondello.

TRANIO. 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?

BIONDELLO. He that has the two fair daughters; is’t he you mean?

TRANIO. Even he, Biondello!

GREMIO. Hark you, sir, you mean not her to—

TRANIO. Perhaps him and her, sir; what have you to do?

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

TRANIO. I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, let’s away.

LUCENTIO. [_Aside_] Well begun, Tranio.

HORTENSIO. Sir, a word ere you go. Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no?

TRANIO. And if I be, sir, is it any offence?

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

TRANIO. Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free For me as for you?

GREMIO. But so is not she.

TRANIO. For what reason, I beseech you?

GREMIO. For this reason, if you’ll know, That she’s the choice love of Signior Gremio.

HORTENSIO. That she’s the chosen of Signior Hortensio.

TRANIO. Softly, my masters! If you be gentlemen, Do me this right; hear me with patience. Baptista is a noble gentleman, To whom my father is not all unknown; And were his daughter fairer than she is, She may more suitors have, and me for one. Fair Leda’s 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.

GREMIO. What, this gentleman will out-talk us all.

LUCENTIO. Sir, give him head; I know he’ll prove a jade.

PETRUCHIO. Hortensio, to what end are all these words?

HORTENSIO. Sir, let me be so bold as ask you, Did you yet ever see Baptista’s daughter?

TRANIO. No, sir, but hear I do that he hath two, The one as famous for a scolding tongue As is the other for beauteous modesty.

PETRUCHIO. Sir, sir, the first’s for me; let her go by.

GREMIO. Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules, And let it be more than Alcides’ twelve.

PETRUCHIO. Sir, understand you this of me, in sooth: The youngest daughter, whom you hearken for, Her father keeps from all access of suitors, And will not promise her to any man Until the elder sister first be wed; The younger then is free, and not before.

TRANIO. If it be so, sir, that you are the man Must stead us all, and me amongst the rest; And if you break the ice, and do this feat, Achieve the elder, set the younger free For our access, whose hap shall be to have her Will not so graceless be to be ingrate.

HORTENSIO. 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.

TRANIO. Sir, I shall not be slack; in sign whereof, Please ye we may contrive this afternoon, And quaff carouses to our mistress’ health; And do as adversaries do in law, Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.

GRUMIO, BIONDELLO. O excellent motion! Fellows, let’s be gone.

HORTENSIO. The motion’s good indeed, and be it so:— Petruchio, I shall be your _ben venuto_.

[_Exeunt._]

## ACT II

## SCENE I. Padua. A room in Baptista’s house.

Enter Katherina and Bianca.

BIANCA. Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself, To make a bondmaid and a slave of me; That I disdain; but for these other gawds, Unbind my hands, I’ll pull them off myself, Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat; Or what you will command me will I do, So well I know my duty to my elders.

KATHERINA. Of all thy suitors here I charge thee tell Whom thou lov’st best: see thou dissemble not.

BIANCA. Believe me, sister, of all the men alive I never yet beheld that special face Which I could fancy more than any other.

KATHERINA. Minion, thou liest. Is’t not Hortensio?

BIANCA. If you affect him, sister, here I swear I’ll plead for you myself but you shall have him.

KATHERINA. O! then, belike, you fancy riches more: You will have Gremio to keep you fair.

BIANCA. Is it for him you do envy me so? Nay, then you jest; and now I well perceive You have but jested with me all this while: I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands.

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

[_Strikes her._]

Enter Baptista.

BAPTISTA. Why, how now, dame! Whence grows this insolence? Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl! she weeps. Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her. For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit, Why dost thou wrong her that did ne’er wrong thee? When did she cross thee with a bitter word?

KATHERINA. Her silence flouts me, and I’ll be reveng’d.

[_Flies after Bianca._]

BAPTISTA. What! in my sight? Bianca, get thee in.

[_Exit Bianca._]

KATHERINA. 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. Talk not to me: I will go sit and weep Till I can find occasion of revenge.

[_Exit._]

BAPTISTA. Was ever gentleman thus griev’d as I? But who comes here?

Enter Gremio, with 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. God save you, gentlemen!

PETRUCHIO. And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter Call’d Katherina, fair and virtuous?

BAPTISTA. I have a daughter, sir, call’d Katherina.

GREMIO. You are too blunt: go to it orderly.

PETRUCHIO. You wrong me, Signior Gremio: give me leave. I am a gentleman of Verona, sir, That, hearing of her beauty and her wit, Her affability and bashful modesty, Her wondrous qualities and mild behaviour, Am bold to show myself a forward guest 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, I do present you with a man of mine,

[_Presenting Hortensio._]

Cunning in music and the mathematics, To instruct her fully in those sciences, Whereof I know she is not ignorant. Accept of him, or else you do me wrong: His name is Licio, born in Mantua.

BAPTISTA. Y’are welcome, sir, and he for your good sake; But for my daughter Katherine, this I know, She is not for your turn, the more my grief.

PETRUCHIO. I see you do not mean to part with her; Or else you like not of my company.

BAPTISTA. Mistake me not; I speak but as I find. Whence are you, sir? What may I call your name?

PETRUCHIO. Petruchio is my name, Antonio’s son; A man well known throughout all Italy.

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

GREMIO. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray, Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too. Backare! you are marvellous forward.

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 has 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?