A Room in LUCENTIO'S House. |
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A Banquet set out. Enter BAPTISTA, VINCENTIO, GREMIO, the Pedant, LUCENTIO, BIANCA, PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, HORTENSIO, and Widow. TRANIO, BIONDELLO, GRUMIO, and Others, attending. |
Luc. At last, though long, our jarring notes agree: |
And time it is, when raging war is done, |
To smile at 'scapes and perils overblown. |
My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome, |
While I with self-same kindness welcome thine. |
Brother Petruchio, sister Katharina, |
And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow, |
Feast with the best, and welcome to my house: |
My banquet is to close our stomachs up, |
After our great good cheer. Pray you, sit down; |
For now we sit to chat as well as eat. [They sit at table. |
Pet. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat! |
Bap. Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio. |
Pet. Padua affords nothing but what is kind. |
Hor. For both our sakes I would that word were true. |
Pet. Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow. |
Wid. Then never trust me, if I be afeard. |
Pet. You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense: |
I mean, Hortensio is afeard of you. |
Wid. He that is giddy thinks the world turns round. |
Pet. Roundly replied. |
Kath. Mistress, how mean you that? |
Wid. Thus I conceive by him. |
Pet. Conceives by me! How likes Hortensio that? |
Hor. My widow says, thus she conceives her tale. |
Pet. Very well mended. Kiss him for that, good widow. |
Kath. 'He that is giddy thinks the world turns round:' |
I pray you, tell me what you meant by that. |
Wid. Your husband, being troubled with a shrew, |
Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe: |
And now you know my meaning. |
Kath. A very mean meaning. |
Wid. Right, I mean you. |
Kath. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you. |
Pet. To her, Kate! |
Hor. To her, widow! |
Pet. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down. |
Hor. That's my office. |
Pet. Spoke like an officer: ha' to thee, lad. [Drinks to HORTENSIO. |
Bap. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks? |
Gre. Believe me, sir, they butt together well. |
Bian. Head and butt! a hasty-witted body |
Would say your head and butt were head and horn. |
Vin. Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken'd you? |
Bian. Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I'll sleep again. |
Pet. Nay, that you shall not; since you have begun, |
Have at you for a bitter jest or two. |
Bian. Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush; |
And then pursue me as you draw your bow. |
You are welcome all. [Exeunt BIANCA, KATHARINA, and Widow. |
Pet. She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio; |
This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not: |
Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd. |
Tra. O sir! Lucentio slipp'd me, like his greyhound, |
Which runs himself, and catches for his master. |
Pet. A good swift simile, but something currish. |
Tra. 'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself: |
'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay. |
Bap. O ho, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now. |
Luc. I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio. |
Hor. Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here? |
Pet. A' has a little gall'd me, I confess; |
And, as the jest did glance away from me, |
'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright. |
Bap. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio, |
I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. |
Pet. Well, I say no: and therefore, for assurance, |
Let's each one send unto his wife; |
And he whose wife is most obedient |
To come at first when he doth send for her, |
Shall win the wager which we will propose. |
Hor. Content. What is the wager? |
Luc. Twenty crowns. |
Pet. Twenty crowns! |
I'll venture so much of my hawk or hound, |
But twenty times so much upon my wife. |
Luc. A hundred then. |
Hor. Content. |
Pet. A match! 'tis done. |
Hor. Who shall begin? |
Luc. That will I. |
Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. |
Bion. I go. [Exit. |
Bap. Son, I will be your half, Bianca comes. |
Luc. I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself. |
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Re-enter BIONDELLO. |
How now! what news? |
Bion. Sir, my mistress sends you word |
That she is busy and she cannot come. |
Pet. How! she is busy, and she cannot come! |
Is that an answer? |
Gre. Ay, and a kind one too: |
Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. |
Pet. I hope, better. |
Hor. Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife |
To come to me forthwith. [Exit BIONDELLO. |
Pet. O ho! entreat her! |
Nay, then she must needs come. |
Hor. I am afraid, sir, |
Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. |
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Re-enter BIONDELLO. |
Now, where's my wife? |
Bion. She says you have some goodly jest in hand: |
She will not come: she bids you come to her. |
Pet. Worse and worse; she will not come! O vile, |
Intolerable, not to be endur'd! |
Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress; say, |
I command her come to me. [Exit GRUMIO. |
Hor. I know her answer. |
Pet. What? |
Hor. She will not. |
Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. |
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Re-enter KATHARINA. |
Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katharina! |
Kath. What is your will, sir, that you send for me? |
Pet. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife? |
Kath. They sit conferring by the parlour fire. |
Pet. Go, fetch them hither: if they deny to come, |
Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands. |
Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. [Exit KATHARINA. |
Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. |
Hor. And so it is. I wonder what it bodes. |
Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life, |
An awful rule and right supremacy; |
And, to be short, what not that's sweet and happy. |
Bap. Now fair befall thee, good Petruchio! |
The wager thou hast won; and I will add |
Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns; |
Another dowry to another daughter, |
For she is chang'd, as she had never been. |
Pet. Nay, I will win my wager better yet, |
And show more sign of her obedience, |
Her new-built virtue and obedience. |
See where she comes, and brings your froward wives |
As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. |
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Re-enter KATHARINA, with BIANCA and Widow. |
Katharine, that cap of yours becomes you not: |
Off with that bauble, throw it under foot. [KATHARINA pulls off her cap, and throws it down. |
Wid. Lord! let me never have a cause to sigh, |
Till I be brought to such a silly pass! |
Bian. Fie! what a foolish duty call you this? |
Luc. I would your duty were as foolish too: |
The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, |
Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time. |
Bian. The more fool you for laying on my duty. |
Pet. Katharine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women |
What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. |
Wid. Come, come, you're mocking: we will have no telling. |
Pet. Come on, I say; and first begin with her. |
Wid. She shall not. |
Pet. I say she shall: and first begin with her. |
Kath. Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow, |
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, |
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor: |
It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads, |
Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds, |
And in no sense is meet or amiable. |
A woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled, |
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; |
And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty |
Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it. |
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, |
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, |
And for thy maintenance commits his body |
To painful labour both by sea and land, |
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, |
Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe; |
And craves no other tribute at thy hands |
But love, fair looks, and true obedience; |
Too little payment for so great a debt. |
Such duty as the subject owes the prince, |
Even such a woman oweth to her husband; |
And when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sour, |
And not obedient to his honest will, |
What is she but a foul contending rebel, |
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?— |
I am asham'd that women are so simple |
To offer war where they should kneel for peace, |
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway, |
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. |
Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth, |
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world, |
But that our soft conditions and our hearts |
Should well agree with our external parts? |
Come, come, you froward and unable worms! |
My mind hath been as big as one of yours, |
My heart as great, my reason haply more, |
To bandy word for word and frown for frown; |
But now I see our lances are but straws, |
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare, |
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are. |
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot, |
And place your hands below your husband's foot: |
In token of which duty, if he please, |
My hand is ready; may it do him ease. |
Pet. Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate. |
Luc. Well, go thy ways, old lad, for thou shalt ha't. |
Vin. 'Tis a good hearing when children are toward. |
Luc. But a harsh hearing when women are froward. |
Pet. Come, Kate, we'll to bed. |
We three are married, but you two are sped. |
'Twas I won the wager, [To LUCENTIO.] though you hit the white; |
And, being a winner, God give you good night! [Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA. |
Hor. Now, go thy ways; thou hast tam'd a curst shrew. |
Luc. 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tam'd so. [Exeunt. |
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