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Right son unto the right Vincentio;
That have by marriage made thy daughter mine,
While counterfeit supposes blear'd thine eyne. [all!
Gre. Here's packing with a witness to deceive us
Vin. Where is that damned villain, Tranio,
That fac'd and brav'd me in this matter so ?
Bap. Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio?
Bian. Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio.

Luc. Love wrought these miracles. Bianco's love
Made me exchange my state with Tranio,

While he did bear my countenance in the town;
And happily I have arriv'd at last
Unto the wished haven of my bliss:
What Tranio did, myself enforc'd him to;
Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake.

Vin. I'll slit the villain's nose, that would have sent me to the gaol.

Bap. But do you hear, sir? [To LUCENTIO.] Have you married my daughter without asking my good-will? [go to: Vin. Fear not, Baptista; we will content you: But I will in, to be reveng'd for this villainy. [Exit. Bap. And I to sound the depth of this knavery.

[Exit. Luc. Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown. [Exeunt Luc. and BIAN. Gre. My cake is dough: But I'll in among the rest; Out of hope of all,-but my share of the feast. [Exit.

PETRUCIO and KATHARINA advance.

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;

mean, Hortensio is afeard of you. [round Wid. He that is giddy thinks the world turns Pet. Roundly replied.

Kath.

Mistress, how mean you that Wid. Thus I conceive by him. [that? Pet. Conceives by me!-How likes Hortensio Hor. My widow says, thus she conceives her tale. Pet. Very well mended: Kiss him for that, good widow. [round:

Kath. He that is giddy thinks the world turns
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
Hor. That's my office.
[down.
Pet. Spoke like an officer:-Ha' to thee, lad.
[Drinks to HORTENSIO.
Bap. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks?
Gre. Believe n.e, sir, they butt together well.
Bian. Head, and butt? an 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.

Kath. Husband, let's follow, to see the end of Have at you for a bitter jest or two.

this ado.

Pet. First kiss me, Kate, and we will.
Kath. What, in the midst of the street?
Pet. What, art thou ashamed of me? [kiss.
Kath. No, sir; God forbid:-but ashamed to
Pet. Why, then, let's home again:-Come,
sirrah, let's away.

Kath. Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now pray
thee, love, stay.

Pet. Is not this well?-Come, my sweet Kate; Better once than never, for never too late.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-A Room in Lucentio's House.
A banquet set out. Enter BAPTISTA, VINCENTIO,
GREMIO, the Pedant, LUCENTIO, BIANCA,
PETRUCIO, 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 Petrucio,-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 Petrucio.
Pet. Padua affords nothing but what is kind.

Pet. Nay, that you shall not; since you have [begun, Bian. Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush, And then pursue me as you draw your bow:You are welcome all.

[Exit BIAN., KATH., 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 grey.

hound,

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, Petrucio, 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 main'd you two outright.

[rance,

Bap. Now, in good sadness, son Petrucio,
I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.
Pet. Well, I say-no: and, therefore, for assu.
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's the wager?
Luc.

Pet. Twenty crowns!

Twenty crowns.

I'll venture so much on my hawk, or houna,
But twenty times so much upon my wife.
Luc. A hundred then.

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Nay, then she must needs come.
Hor.
I am afraid, sir,
Do what you can, yours will not be entreated.
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! Ovile,
Intolerable, not to be endur'd!

Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress;

Bian. The more fool you, for laying on my duty Pet. Katharine, I charge thee, tell these head strong women

What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. Wil. 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 threat'ning 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 faine, as whirlwinds shake fair
And in no sense is meet or amiable.
buds.
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,
While 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.

Say I command her to come to me. [Exit GRUMIO. Such duty as the subject owes the prince,

Hor. I know her answer.

What?

Pet.
Hor.
She will not.
Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.
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 KATH. 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 An awful rule, and right supremacy; [life, And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy. Bap. Now fair befall thee, good Petrucio! 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.

Re-enter KATHARINA, with BIANCA and Widow. See, where she comes; and brings your froward wives As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. Katharina, that cap of yours becomes you not; Off with that bauble, throw it under foot.

[KATH. 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.

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 husbands' 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. [ha't. Luc. Well, go thy ways, old lad; for thou shalt Vin. "Tis a good hearing, when children are toward. Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are Pet. Come, Kate, we'll to bed: [froward. We three are married, but you two are sped. 'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white; [TO LUCENTIO. And, being a winner, God give you good night! [Exeunt PET. and KATH.

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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Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON,

HELENA, and LAFEU, in mourning.

Count. In delivering my son from me, I bury a second husband.

Ber. And, I, in going, madam, weep o'er my father's death anew: but I must attend his

majesty's command, to whom I am now in ward,

evermore in subjection.

Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam;-you, sir, a father: He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his virtue to you; whose worthiness would stir it up where it wanted, rather than lack it where there is such abundance. [ment? Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amend Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.

Count. This young gentlewoman had a father (O, that had! how sad a passage 'tis !) whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. 'Would, for the king's sake, he were living! I think it would be the death of the king's disease. Laf. How call you the man you speak of, madam? Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon. Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam; the king very lately spoke of him admiringly and mourningly he was skilful enough to have lived still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality. Ber. What is it, my good ford, the king languishes of?

Laf. A fistula, my lord.

Ber. I heard not of it before.

Laf. I would it were not notorious.-Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon? Count. His sole child, my lord; and bequeathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes of her good that her education promises: her dispositions she inherits, which make fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind carries virtuous qualities, there commendations go with pity,-they are virtues and traitors too: in her they are the better for their simpleness; she derives her honesty, and achieves her goodness.

Laf. Your commendations, madam, get from her tears.

Count. "Tis the best brine a maiden can season

No

her praise in. The remembrance of her father
never approaches her heart but the tyranny of her
sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek.
more of this, Helena-go to, no more; lest it be
rather thought you affect a sorrow, than to have.

Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I have it too.
Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the

dead; excessive grief the enemy to the living.

Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, the excess makes it soon mortal.

Ber. Madam, I desire your holy wishes.
Laf. How understand we that?

Count. Be thou bless'd, Bertram, and succeed
thy father

In manners, as in shape! thy blood and virtue
Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness
Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a few,
Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy
Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend
Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence,
But never tax'd for speech. What heaven more will,
That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck down,
Fall on thy head! Farewell.-My lord,
'Tis an unseason'd courtier; good my lord,
Advise him.
Laf.
He cannot want the best
That shall attend his love.

Count. Heaven bless him!-Farewell, Bertram. [Exit. Ber. The best wishes that can be forged in your thoughts [to HELENA] be servants to you! Be comfortable to my mother, your mistress, and make much of her.

Laf. Farewell, pretty lady: You must hold the credit of your father.

[Exeunt BERTRAM and LAFEU. Hel. O, were that all!-I think not on my father; And these great tears grace his remembrance more Than those I shed for him. What was he like? I have forgot him: my imagination Carries no favour in't but Bertram's. I am undone; there is no living, none, If Bertram be away. It were all one That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:

The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love. "Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table; heart too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favour:
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics. Who comes here?
Enter PAROLLES.

One that goes with him: I love him for his sake;
And yet I know him a notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward;
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him,

That they take place, when virtue's steely bones
Look bleak i'the cold wind: withal, full oft we see
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
Par. Save you, fair queen.

Hel. And you, monarch.

Par. No.

Hel. And no.

Par. Are you meditating on virginity?

Hel. Ay. You have some stain of a soldier in you; let me ask you a question: Man is enemy to virginity; how may we barricado it against him? Par. Keep him out.

Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, though valiant in the defence, yet is weak: unfold to us some warlike resistance.

Par. There is none: man, sitting down before you, will undermine you, and blow you up.

Hel. Bless our poor virginity from underminers and blowers up! Is there no military policy how virgins might blow up men?

Par. Virginity, being blown down, man will quicklier be blown up: marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made, you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase; and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost.

That you

were made of is metal to make virgins. Virginity, by being once lost, may be ten times found: by being ever kept, it is ever lost: 'tis too cold a companion; away with't.

Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die a virgin.

Par. There's little can be said in't; 'tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin virginity murthers itself; and should be buried in highways, out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love, which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but lose by't: Out with't: within ten year it will make itselt ten, which is a goodly increase; and the principal itself not much the worse: Away with't. [liking? Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to her own Par. Let me see: Marry, ill, to like him that ne'er it likes. "Tis a commodity will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept the less worth: off with't, while 'tis vendible: answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable just like the brooch and the toothpick, which wear not now: Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek: And

your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears; it looks ill, it eats drily; marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet, 'tis a withered pear: Will you anything with it?

Hel. Not my virginity yet.

There, shall your master have a thousand loves,
A mother, and a mistress, and a friend,
A phoenix, captain, and an enemy,
A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign,
A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear;
His humble ambition, proud humility,
His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,
His faith, his sweet disaster: with a world
Of pretty, fond, adoptious christendoms,
That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he-
I know not what he shall:-God send him well!-
The court's a learning-place-and he is one-
Par. What one, i'faith?

Hel. That I wish well.-"Tis pity-
Par. What's pity?

Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't,
Which might be felt: that we, the poorer born,
Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends,
And show what we alone must think; which never
Returns us thanks.

Enter a Page.

Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls for you. [Exit. Par. Little Helen, farewell: if I can remember thee, I will think of thee at court. Hel. Monsier Parolles, you were born under a charitable star.

Par. Under Mars, I.

Hel. I especially think, under Mars.
Par. Why under Mars?

Hel. The wars have so kept you under, that you must needs be born under Mars.

Par. When he was predominant.

Hel. When he was retrograde, I think, rather. Par. Why think you so?

Hel. You go so much backward when you fight. Par. That's for advantage.

Hel. So is running away, when fear proposes the safety: But the composition that your valour and fear makes in you is a virtue of a good wing, and I like the wear well.

Par. I am so full of businesses I cannot answer

thee acutely: I will return perfect courtier; in the which my instruction shall serve to naturalise thee, so thou wilt be capable of a courtier's counsel, and understand what advice shall thrust upon thee; else thou diest in thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance makes thee away: farewell. When thou hast leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none, remember thy friends: get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee: so farewell. [Exit. Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven: the fated sky Gives us free scope: only, doth backward pull Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. What power is it which mounts my love so high; That makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye? The mightiest space in fortune nature brings To join like likes, and kiss like native things. Impossible be strange attempts to those That weigh their pains in sense; and do suppose What hath been cannot be: Who ever strove To show her merit that did miss her love? The king's disease-my project may deceive me, But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave me. [Exit.

SCENE II.-Paris. A Room in the King's Palace. Flourish of cornets. Enter the KING OF FRANCE, with letters; Lords and others attending.

King. The Florentines and Senoys are by the

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So 'tis reported, sir.

King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here receive it
A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austria,
With caution, that the Florentine will move us
For speedy aid; wherein our dearest friend
Prejudicates the business, and would seem
To have us make denial.

1 Lord.
His love and wisdom,
Approv'd so to your majesty, may plead
For amplest credence.

King.
He hath arm'd our answer,
And Florence is denied before he comes;
Yet, for our gentlemen that mean to see
The Tuscan service, freely have they leave
To stand on either part.

2 Lord.

It well may serve

A nursery to our gentry, who are sick For breathing and exploit.

King.

What's he comes here? Enter BERTRAM, LAFEU, and PAROLLES. 1 Lord. It is the Count Rousillon, my good lord, Young Bertram. [face; King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's Frank Nature, rather curious than in haste, Hath well compos'd thee. Thy father's moral parts Mayst thou inherit too! Welcome to Paris.

Ber. My thanks and duty are your majesty's.
King. I would I had that corporal soundness now,
As when thy father and myself, in friendship,
First tried our soldiership! He did look far
Into the service of the time, and was
Discipled of the bravest: he lasted long;
But on us both did haggish age steal on,
And wore us out of act. It much repairs me
To talk of your good father: In his youth
He had the wit, which I can well observe
To-day in our young lords; but they may jest
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted,
Ere they can hide their levity in honour.
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were,
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour,
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time,
His tongue obey'd his hand: who were below him
He us'd as creatures of another place;
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks,
Making them proud of his humility,

In their poor praise he humbled: Such a man
Might be a copy to these younger times;
Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them
But goers backward.

[now
Ber.
His good remembrance, sir,
Lies richer in your thoughts than on his tomb;
So in approof lives not his epitaph,

As in your royal speech.

King. 'Would I were with him! He would

always say,

(Methinks I hear him now: his plausive words He scatter'd not in ears, but grafted them,

To grow there, and to bear),- "Let me not

live,"

This his good melancholy oft began, On the catastrophe and heel of pastime,

When it was out,-" Let me not live," quoth he,
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
"After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff
All but new things disdain; whose judgments are
Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies
Expire before their fashions:"- -This he wish'd:

I, after him, do after him wish too,
Since, I nor wax nor honey can bring home,
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,
To give some labourers room.

2 Lord.

You are lov'd, sir: They that least lend it you shall lack you first. King. I fill a place, I know't.-How long is't, Since the physician of your father's died? [count, He was much fam'd.

Ber. Some six months since, my lord. King. If he were living, I would try him yet;-Lend me an arm;-the rest have worn me out With several applications: nature and sickness Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count; My son's no dearer. Ber.

Thank your majesty.

[Exeunt. Flourish.

SCENE III.-Rousillon. A Room in the
Countess's Palace.

Enter COUNTESS, Steward, and Clown. Count. I will now hear: what say you of this gentlewoman?

Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even your content, I wish might be found in the calendar of my past endeavours: for then we wound our modesty, and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.

Count. What does this knave here? Get you gone, sirrah: The complaints I have heard of you I do not all believe; 'tis my slowness that I do not: for I know you lack not folly to commit them, and have ability enough to make such knaveries yours.

Clo. "Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am a poor fellow.

Count. Well, sir.

Clo. No, madam, 'tis not so well that I am poor; though many of the rich are damned: But, if I may have your ladyship's good-will to go to the world, Isbel the woman and I will do as we may. Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar?

Clo. I do beg your good-will in this case.
Count. In what case?

Clo. In Isbel's case and mine own. Service is no heritage: and I think I shall never have the blessing of God, till I have issue o' my body; for, they say, bearns are blessings.

Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marry. Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives.

Count. Is this all your worship's reason

Clo. Faith, madam. I have other holy reasons, such as they are.

Count. May the world know them?

Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked creature, as you and all flesh and blood are; and, indeed, I do marry that I may repent.

Count. Thy marriage sooner than thy wickedness. Clo. I am out o' friends, madam; and I hope to have friends for my wife's sake.

Count. Such friends are thine enemies, knave. Clo. You're shallow, madam; e'en great friends; for the knaves come to do that for me which I am a-weary of. He that ears my land spares my tear.

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