LUCENTIO, Son to Vincentio, in love with Bianca.
PETRUCHIO, a Gentleman of Verona, a Suitor to
Katharina.
Pedant, an old Fellow, set up to personate Vincentio. KATHARINA, the Shrew, Daughters to Baptista. BIANCA, her Sister,
Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants, attending on
Baptista and Petruchio.
SCENE,-Sometimes in Padua; and sometimes in Petruchio's House in the Country.
SCENE I. Before an Ale-house on a Heath.
Enter Hostess and SLY.
Sly. I'll pheese you, in faith.
Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue!
Sly. Y'are a baggage; the Slies are no rogues:
Look in the chronicles, we came in with Richard
Conqueror. Therefore, paucus pallabris; let the
world slide: Sessa!
Host. You will not pay for the glasses you have
[burst?
Sly. No, not a denier: Go by, says Jeronimy;
Go to thy cold bed, and warm thee.
Host. I know my remedy,
I must go fetch the
thirdborough.
Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer
[Exit.
him by law I'll not budge an inch, boy; let him
come, and kindly.
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(Lies down on the ground, and falls asleep.) Wind horns. Enter a Lord from hunting, with Huntsmen and Servants.
Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my
hounds:
Brach Merriman,-the poor cur is emboss'd,
And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach.
Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault?"
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
1 Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;
He cried upon it at the merest loss,
And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent:
Trust me, I take him for the better dog.
Lord. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fleet,
I would esteem him worth a dozen such.
But sup them well, and look unto them all;
To-morrow I intend to hunt again.
Lord. What's here; one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe?
2 Hun. He breathes, my lord: Were he not
warm'd with ale,
This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.
Lord. O monstrous beast! how like a swine he
lies!
[image!-
Grim death! how foul and loathsome is thine
Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.
What think you, if he were convey'd to bed,
Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers,
A most delicious banquet by his bed,
And brave attendants near him when he wakes,
Would not the beggar then forget himself?
1 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.
2 Hun. It would seem strange unto him when he
wak'd.
Then take him up, and manage well the jest:-
Lord. Even as a flattering dream, or worthless
[fancy.
Carry him gently to my fairest chamber,
And hang it round with all my wanton pictures :
Balm his foul head with warm distilled waters,
Procure me music ready when he wakes,
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet:
To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound;
And if he chance to speak, be ready straight,
Say,-What is it your honour will command?
And, with a low submissive reverence,
Let one attend him with a silver basin,
Full of rose-water, and bestrew'd with flowers;
Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,
And say,-Wilt please your lordship cool your
Some one be ready with a costly suit, And ask him what apparel he will wear;
1 Hun. My lord, I warrant you, we'll play our As he shall think, by our true diligence, He is no less than what we say he is.
Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with him; And each one to his office, when he wakes.
See this despatch'd with all the haste thou canst;
Anon I'll give thee more instructions.-
I know, the boy will well usurp the grace,
Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman;
I long to hear him call the drunkard, husband;
And how my men will stay themselves from laughter,
When they do homage to this simple peasant.
I'll in to counsel them: haply, my presence
May well abate the over-merry spleen,
Which otherwise would grow into extremes.
SCENE II-A Bedchamber in the Lord's House.
(Some bear out Sly. A trumpet sounds.)SLY is discovered in a rich night-gown, with AttendSirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds:[Exit Servant.
Belike some noble gentleman; that means,
Travelling some journey, to repose him here.-
Re-enter a Servant.
An it please your honour,
Serv.
Players, that offer service to your lordship.
Lord. Bid them come near:
Now, fellows, you are welcome.
1 Play. We thank your honour.
Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to-night?
2 Play. So please your lordship to accept our duty.
Lord. With all my heart.-This fellow I re-
member,
Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son;—
Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well:
I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part
Was aptly fitted, and naturally perform'd. [means.
1 Play. I think, 'twas Soto that your honour
Lord. "Tis very true;-thou didst it excellent.-
Well, you are come to me in happy time;
The rather for I have some sport in hand,
Wherein your cunning can assist me much.
There is a lord will hear you play to-night:
But am doubtful of your modesties;
Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour,
play,)
(For vet his honour never heard a
You break into some merry passion,
And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs,
If you should smile, he grows impatient. [selves,
i Play. Fear not, my lord; we can contain our-
Were he the veriest antic in the world.
Lord. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery,
And give them friendly welcome every one:
Let them want nothing, that my house affords.-
[Exeunt Servant and Players.
Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page,
(To a Servant.)
And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady:
That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber,
And call him-madam, do him obeisance.
Tell him from me, (as he will win my love,)
He bear himself with honourable action,
Such as he hath observ'd in noble ladies
Unto their lords, by them accomplished:
Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy ;
And say,-What is't your honour will command,
Wherein your lady, and your humble wife,
May show her duty, and make known her love?
And then-with kind embracements, tempting
kisses,
And with declining head into his bosom,-
Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy'd
To see her noble lord restored to health,
Who, for twice seven years, hath esteemed him
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar:
And if the boy have not a woman's gift,
To rain a shower of commanded tears,
An onion will do well for such a shift;
Which in a napkin being close convey'd,
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
ants; some with apparel, others with bason, ewer,
Enter Lord, dressed
and other appurtenances.
like a servant.
Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale. [sack?
Serv. Will't please your lordship drink a cup of
2 Serv. Will't please your honour taste of these
[day?
conserves?
3 Serv. What raiment will your honour wear to-
Sly. I am Christophero Sly; call not me-honour,
nor lordship: I never drank sack in my life; and if
you give me any conserves, give me conserves of
beef: Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for I
have no more doublets than backs, no more stock-
sometimes, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as
[honour!
ings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay,
my toes look through the overleather.
Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in your
Of such possessions, and so high esteem,
O, that a mighty man, of such descent,
Sly. What, would you make me mad? Am not
Should be infused with so foul a spirit!
I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burton-heath;
by birth a pedlar, by education a card-maker, by
transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present pro-
fession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-
wife of Wincot, if she know me not: if she say I
am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale,
score me up for the lyingest knave in Christendom.
What, I am not bestraught: Here's-
1 Serv. O, this it is, that makes your lady mourn.
2 Serv. O, this it is, that makes your servants
[your house,
droop.
Lord. Hence comes it, that your kindred shun
As beaten hence by your strange lunacy.
O, noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth;
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment,
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams:
Look how thy servants do attend on thee,
Each in his office ready at thy beck.
Wilt thou have music? hark! Apollo plays,
(Music.)
Or wilt thou sleep? we'll have thee to a couch,
And twenty caged nightingales do sing:
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed
On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis.
Say, thou wilt walk; we will bestrew the ground:
Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd,
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl.
Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark: Or wilt thou hunt?
Thy hounds shall make the welkin answer them,
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth.
1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are
as swift
As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe.
2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch
thee straight
Adonis, painted by a running brook.:
And Cytherea all in sedges hid;
Which seem to move and wanton with her breath,
Even as the waving sedges play with wind.
Lord. We'll show thee Io, as she was a maid;
And how she was beguiled and surpris'd,
As lively painted as the deed was done,
S 14
3 Serv. Or Daphne, roaming through a thorny | long. But I would be loath to fall into my dreams again; I will therefore tarry, in despite of the flesh and the blood.
wood; Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds: And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord: Thou hast a lady far more beautiful Than any woman in this waning age.
1 Serv. And, till the tears, that she hath shed for Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face, She was the fairest creature in the world; And yet she is inferior to none.
Sly. Am I a lord? and have I such a lady?
Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now?
I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak;
I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things:-
Upon my life, I am a lord, indeed;
And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly.-
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight;
And once again, a pot o' the smallest ale.
2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands?
(Servants present an ewer, basin, and napkin. O, how we joy to see your wit restor❜d! O, that once more you knew but what you are! These fifteen years you have been in a dream; Or, when you wak'd, so wak'd as if you slept. Sly. These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap. But did I never speak of all that time?
1 Serv. O, yes, my lord; but very idle words :—
For though you lay here in this goodly chamber,
Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of door;
And rail upon the hostess of the house;
And say, you would present her at the leet,
Because she brought stone jugs and no seal'd quarts:
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket.
Sly. Ay, the woman's maid of the house.
Serv. Why, sir, you know no house, nor no such
maid;
Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd up,-
As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernell;
And twenty more such names and men as these,
Which never were, nor no man ever saw.
Sly. Now, Lord be thanked for my good amends!
All. Amen.
Sly. I thank thee; thou shalt not lose by it.
Enter the Page, as a lady, with Attendants. Page. How fares my noble lord?
Sly. Marry, I fare well; for here is cheer enough. Where is my wife?
Page. Here, noble lord; What is thy will with her? [husband? Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call me My men should call me-lord; I am your good-man. Page. My husband and my lord, my lord and husband;
I am your wife in all obedience.
Sly. I know it well:-What must I call her?
Lord. Madam.
Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam? Lord. Madam, and nothing else; so lords call ladies. [and slept Sly. Madam wife, they say that I have dream'd, Above some fifteen year and more.
Page. Ay, and the time seems thirty unto me, Being all this time abandon'd from your bed. Sly. 'Tis much;-Servants, leave me and her alone.
Madam, undress you, and come now to bed.
Page. Thrice noble lord, let me entreat of you,
To pardon me yet for a night or two;
Or, if not so, until the sun be set:
For your physicians have expressly charg'd,
In peril to incur your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed:
I hope, this reason stands for my excuse.
Sly. Ay, it stands so, that I may hardly tarry so
Serv. Your honour's players, hearing your amendment,
Are come to play a pleasant comedy,
For so your doctors hold it very meet;
Seeing too much sadness hath congeal'd your blood,
And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy,
Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play,
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life.
Sly. Marry, I will; let them play it: Is not a
commonty a Christmas gambol, or a tumbling
trick?
[stuff.
Page. No, my good lord; it is more pleasing
Sly. What, household stuff"?
Page. It is a kind of history.
Sly. Well, we'll see't: Come, madam wife, sit by my side, and let the world slip; we shall ne'er be younger. [They sit down.
SCENE I.-Padua. A public Place.
Enter LUCENTIO and TRANIO.
Luc. Tranio, since-for the great desire I had
To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,—
I am arriv'd for fruitful Lombardy,
The pleasant garden of great Italy;
And, by my father's love and leave, am arm'd
With his good will, and thy good company,
Most trusty servant, well approv'd in all;
Here let us breathe, and happily institute
A course of learning, and ingenious studies.
Pisa, renowned for grave citizens,
Gave me my being, and my father first,
A merchant of great traffic through the world,
Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii.
Vincentio his son, brought up in Florence,
It shall become, to serve all hopes conceiv'd,
To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds:
And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,
Virtue, and that part of philosophy
Will I apply, that treats of happiness,
By virtue 'specially to be achiev'd.
Tell me thy mind: for I have Pisa left,
And am to Padua come; as he, that leaves
A shallow plash, to plunge him in the deep,
And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst.
Tra. Mi perdonate, gentle master mine,
I am in all affected as yourself;
Glad that you thus continue your resolve,
To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy.
Only, good master, while we do admire
This virtue, and this moral discipline,
Let's be no stoicks, nor no stocks, I pray;
Or so devote to Aristotle's checks,
As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd:
Talk logic with acquaintance that you have,
And practise rhetoric in your common talk;
Music and poesy use to quicken you;
The mathematics, and the metaphysics,
Fall to them, as you find your stomach serves you :
No profit grows, where is no pleasure ta'en ;-
In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
Luc. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise. If, Biondello, thon wert come ashore, We could at once put us in readiness; And take a lodging, fit to entertain Such friends, as time in Padua shall beget. But stay awhile: What company is this?
Tra. Master, some show, to welcome as to town. Enter BAPTISTA, KATHARINA, BIANCA, GREMIO, and HORTENSIO. LUCENTIO and TRANIO stand aside.
Bap. Gentlemen, impórtune me no further, For how I firmly am resolv'd you know;
That is,-not to bestow my youngest daughter,
Before I have a husband for the elder:
If either of you both love Katharina,
Because I know you well, and love you well,
Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure.
Gre. To cart her rather: She's too rough for
There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife?
Kath. I pray you, sir, (to Bap.) is it your will
To make a stale of me amongst these mates?
Hor. Mates, maid! how mean you that? no
mates for you,
Unless you were of gentler, milder mould.
Kath. I'faith, sir, you shall never need to fear; I wis, it is not half way to her heart:
But, if it were, doubt not her care should be
To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool,
And paint your face, and use you like a fool.
Hor. From all such devils, good Lord, deliver us!
Gre. And me too, good Lord!
Tra. Hush, master! here is some good pastime
toward;
That wench is stark mad, or wonderful froward.
Luc. But in the other's silence I do see
Maid's mild behaviour and sobriety.
Peace, Tranio.
Tra. Well said, master; mum! and gaze your fill.
Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good
What I have said,-Bianca, get you in:
And let it not displease thee, good Bianca;
For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl.
Kath. A pretty peat! 'tis best
Put finger in the eye, and she knew why.
Bian. Sister, content you in my discontent.-
Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe:
My books, and instruments, shall be my company;
On them to look, and practise by myself.
Luc. Hark, Tranio! thou may'st hear Minerva
speak.
(Aside.)
Hor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange?
Sorry am I, that our good will effects
Bianca's grief.
Why, will you mew her up,
Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,
And make her bear the penance of her tongue?
Bap. Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolv'd:-
Go in, Bianca.
[Exit Bianca.
And for I know, she taketh most delight
In music, instruments, and poetry,
Schoolmasters will I keep within my house,
Fit to instruct her youth.-If you, Hortensio,
Or, signior Gremio, you,-know any such,
Prefer them hither; for to cunning men
I will be very kind and liberal
To mine own children in good bringing up; And so farewell, Katharina, you may stay; For I have more to commune with Bianca. [Exit. Kath. Why, and I trust, I may go too; may I [like, What, shall I be appointed hours; as though, beI knew not what to take, and what to leave? Ha! [Exit. Gre. You may go to the devil's dam; your gifts are so good, here is none will hold you. Their love is not so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together, and fast it fairly out; our cake's dough on both sides. Farewell:-Yet, for the love I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit man, to teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father.
Hor. So will I, signior Gremio: But a word, I pray. Though the nature of our quarrel yet never brook'd parle, know now, upon advice, it toucheth us both, that we may yet again have access to our fair mistress, and be happy rivals in Bianca's love, to labour and effect one thing 'specially. Gre. What's that, I pray?
Hor. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister. Gre. A husband! a devil.
Gre. I say, a devil: Think'st thon, Hortensio, though her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to hell?
Hor. Tush, Gremio, though it pass your patience, and mine, to endure her loud alarums, why, man, there be good fellows in the world, an a man could light on them, would take her with all faults, and money enough.
Gre. I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry with this condition,-to be whipped at the high-cross every morning.
Hor. 'Faith, as you say, there's small choice in rotten apples. But, come; since this bar in law makes us friends, it shall be so far forth friendly maintained, till by helping Baptista's eldest daughter to a husband, we set his youngest free for a husband, and then have to't afresh.-Sweet Bianca!-Happy man be his dole! He that runs fastest, gets the ring. How say you, signior Gremio?
Gre. I am agreed: and 'would I had given him the best horse in Padua to begin his wooing, that would thoroughly woo her, wed her, and bed her, and rid the house of her. Come on.
[Exeunt Gremio and Hortensio. Tra. (Advancing.) I pray, sir, tell me,-Is it possible
That love should of a sudden take such hold?
Luc. O Tranio, till I found it to be true,
I never thought it possible, or likely;
But see! while idly I stood looking on,
I found the effect of love in idleness:
And now in plainness do confess to thee,-
That art to me as secret, and as dear,
As Anna to the queen of Carthage was,
Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio,
If I achieve not this young modest girl:
Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst;
Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt.
Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you now;
Affection is not rated from the heart:
If love have touch'd you, nought remains but so,—
Redime te captum quam queas minimo. [tents;
Luc. Gramercies, lad; go forward: this conThe rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound. Tra. Master, you look'd so longly on the maid, Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all.
Luc. 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. Tra. Saw you no more? mark'd you not, how
Began to scold; and raise up such a storm,
That mortal ears might hardly endure the din?
Luc. 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.
Tra. Nay, then, 'tis time to stir him from his I pray, awake, sir; If you love the maid, [trance. 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 shall not be annoy'd with suitors.
Luc. 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?
Tra. Ay, marry, am I, sir; and now 'tis plotted.
Luc. I have it, Tranio.
Tra. Master, for my hand, Both our inventions meet and jump in one. Luc. Tell me thine first.
You will be schoolmaster, And undertake the teaching of the maid: That's your device.
Luc. It is: May it be done? Tra. 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?
Luc. Basta; content thee; for I have it full. We have not yet been seen in any house; Nor can we be distinguished 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 mean 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.
Tra. So had you need. (They exchange habits.)
In brief, then, 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.
Luc. Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves: And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid, Whose sudden sight have thrall'd my wounded eye.
Here comes the rogue.-Sirrah, where have you
been?
[where are you?
Bion. Where have I been? Nay, how now,
Master, has my fellow Tranio stol'n your clothes?
Or you stol'n his? or both? pray, what's the news?
Luc. 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 countenance 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?
I, sir? ne'er a whit. Luc. And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth; Tranio is chang'd into Lucentio.
Bion. The better for him; 'Would I were so too! Tra. So would I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after,[daughter. That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest But, sirrah,-not for my sake, but your master's,I advise [companies: You use your manners discreetly in all kind of When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio; But in all places else, your master Lucentio. Luc. 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. 1 Serv. My lord, you nod; you do not mind the play
Sly. Yes, by saint Anne, do I. A good matter, surely; Comes there any more of it? Page. My lord, 'tis but begun.
Gru. Knock, sir! whom should I knock ? is there any man has rebused your worship? Pet. Villain, I say, knock me here soundly. Gru. Knock you here, sir? why, sir, what am I, sir, that I should knock you here, sir?
Pet. Villain, I say, knock me at this gate,
And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate.
Gru. My master is grown quarrelsome: I should
knock you first,
And then I know after who comes by the worst.
Pet. Will it not be?
'Faith, sirrah, an you'll not knock, I'll wring it;
I'll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it.
(He wrings Grumio by the ears.) Gru. Help, masters, help! my master is mad. Pet. Now, knock when I bid you sirrah! vil
Hor. How now! what's the matter?-My old friend Grumio! and my good friend Petruchio !How do you all at Verona ?
Pet. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the Con tutto il core bene trovato, may I say.
Hor. Alla nostra casa bene venuto, Molto honorato signior mio Petruchio. Rise, Grumio, rise; we will compound this quarrel.
Gru. Nay, 'tis no matter, 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 bad not Grumio come by the worst.
Pet. A senseless villain!-Good Hortensio, I bade the rascal knock upon your gate, And could not get him for my heart to do it. Gru. 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? Pet. Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you. Hor. Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio's pledge:
Why, this is 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?
Pet. Such wind as scatters young men through the world,
To seek their fortunes further 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.
Hor. 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 thou'rt too much my friend,
And I'll not wish thee to her.
Pet. Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as Few words suffice: and, therefore, if thou know
Sly. 'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife, lady; 'Would 't were done!
(As wealth is burden of my wooing dance,)
Be she as foul as was Florentius' love,
As old as Sybil, and as curst and shrewd
As Socrates' Xantippe, 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.
Gru. Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly
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