Pet. Why, that is nothing; for I tell you, father,

I am as peremptory as she proud-minded;
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:
So I to her and so she yields to me;

For I am rough and woo not like a babe.

Bap. Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed!
But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words.
Pet. Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds,
That shake not, though they blow perpetually.

Re-enter Hortensio, with his head broke.

140

Bap. How now, my friend! why dost thou look so pale? Hor. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.

Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good musician? Hor. I think she 'll sooner prove a soldier.

Iron may Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute? Hor. Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me. I did but tell her she mistook her frets, And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering; When, with a most impatient devilish spirit, 'Frets, call you these?' quoth she; 'I'll fume with

hold with her, but never lutes.

them':

And, with that word, she struck me on the head,
And through the instrument my pate made way;
And there I stood amazed for a while,

As on a pillory, looking through the lute;
While she did call me rascal fiddler

And twangling Jack; with twenty such vile terms,

150

As she had studied to misuse me so. Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench;

I love her ten times more than e'er I did:
O, how I long to have some chat with her!
Bap. Well, go with me and be not so 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 shall I send my daughter Kate to you?
Pet. I pray you do; I will attend her here,

160

170

[Exeunt Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, and Hortensio.
And woo her with some spirit when she comes.
Say that she rail; why then I'll tell her plain
She sings as sweetly as a nightingale;
Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear
As morning roses newly wash'd with dew;
Say she be mute and will not speak a word:
Then I'll commend her volubility,
And say she uttereth piercing eloquence:
If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks,
As though she bid me stay by her a week:
If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day

When I shall ask the banns, and when be married.
But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak.

Enter Katharina.

180

Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear. Kath. Well have you heard, but something hard of

hearing:

They call me Katharine that do talk of me.

Pet. You lie, in faith; for you are call'd 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, 190
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation;
Hearing thy mildness praised in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,
Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,

Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.

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

Pet.

Remove you hence: I knew you at the first

You were a moveable.

Kath. A join'd-stool.

Pet.

Why, what's a moveable?

Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me.

Kath. Asses are made to bear, and so are you.
Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are you.
Kath. No such jade as you, if me you mean.
Pet. Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee!

For, knowing thee to be but young and light,—
Kath. Too light for such a swain as you to catch;
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.
Pet. Should be! should-buzz!

200

Kath.
Pet. O slow-wing'd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee!
Kath. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.

Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.

Pet. Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry. Kath. If I be waspish, best beware my sting.

Pet. My remedy is then, to pluck it out.

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

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

211

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

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

Kath.

Good Kate; I am a gentleman.

That I'll try.

[She strikes him. Pet. I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again. Kath. So may you lose your arms:

If you strike me, you are no gentleman;

And if no gentleman, why then no arms. Pet. A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books! Kath. What is your crest? a coxcomb?

Pet. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.

220

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

Pet. Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour. Kath. It is my fashion, when I see a crab.

230 Pet. Why, here's no crab; and therefore look not sour. Kath. There is, there is.

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

Kath. Yet you are wither'd.

Pet.

Kath.

'Tis with cares.

240

I care not.

Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth you scape not so.
Kath. I 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 sullen, And now I find report a very liar;

For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous,

250

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 entertain'st 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.
Kath. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command.
Pet. Did ever Dian so become a grove

As Kate this chamber with her princely gait?
O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate;

And then let Kate be chaste and Dian sportful!
Kath. 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.

260

270

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 Kate to a Kate