Kath.

Well ta'en, and like a buzzard. Pet. O, slow-wing'd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee?

Kath. Ay, for a turtle; as he takes 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 doth wear his

[Striking 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.
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.

Pet. Why, here's no crab; and therefore look

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

Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth, you 'scape

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;
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 hazle-twig,
Is straight, and slender; and as brown in hue
As hazle 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?

Pet. 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 cat to a Kate
Conformable, as other houshold Kates.
Here comes your father; never make denial,
I must and will have Katharine to my wife.

Re-enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and TRANIO.

Bap. Now,

Signior Petruchio: How speed you with

My daughter?

Pet.

How but well, sir? how but well?

It were impossible I should speed amiss.

Bap. Why, how now, daughter Katharine? in

your dumps ?

Kath. Call you me, daughter? now I promise you,

You have show'd a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one half lunatick;
A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Jack,
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.

Pet. Father, 'tis thus, -yourself and all the world,
That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her;
If she be curst, it is for policy:
For she's not froward, but modest as the dove;
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;
For patience she will prove a second Grissel;
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity:

And to conclude, - we have 'greed so well together, That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.

Kath. I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first

Gre. Hark, Petruchio! she says, she'll see thee

hang'd first.

Tra. Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night

Pet. Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for

our part!

myself;

If she and

dibe I

pleas'd, what's that to

you?

'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
That she shall still be curst in company.
I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe

How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate! -
She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss
She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twink she won me to her love.
Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day: -
Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests ;
I will be sure, my Katharine shall be fine.

Bap. I know not what to say: give me your hands;

Heaven send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match.
Gre. Tra. Amen, say we; we will be witnesses.
Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu;
I will to Venice, Sunday comes apace:
We will have rings, and things, and fine array;
And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o' Sunday.
[Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHARINE, severally.
Gre. Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly?
Bap. Gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part,
And venture madly on a desperate mart.

Tra. 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you:
'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.
Bap. The gain I seek is - quiet in the match.
Gre. No doubt, but he hath got a quiet catch.
But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter; -
Now is the day we long have looked for;
I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.

Tra. And I am one, that love Bianca more
Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.
Gre. Youngling! thou canst not love so dear as I.
Tra. Grey-beard! thy love doth freeze.
Gre. Skipper, stand back; 'tis age that nou-

risheth.

Tra. But youth, in ladies' eyes that flourisheth.

7 To vie and revye were terms at cards now superseded by the word brag.

1

Bap. Content you, gentlemen; I'll compound this

strife:

'Tis deeds, must win the prize; and he, of both, That can assure my daughter greatest dower, Shall have Bianca's love.

4

Say, signior Gremio, what can you assure her?
Gre. First, as you know, my house within the city
Is richly furnished with plate and gold;
Basons, and ewers, to lave her dainty hands;
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry:
In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns;
In cypress chests my arras, counterpoints,
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
Fine linen, Turky cushions boss'd with pearl,
Valance of Venice gold in needle-work,
Pewter and brass, and all things that belong
To house, or housekeeping: then, at my farm,
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls,
And all things answerable to this portion.
Myself am struck in years, I must confess;
And, if I die to-morrow, this is hers,
If, whilst I live, she will be only mine.

Tra. That, only, came well in - Sir, list to me,
I am my father's heir, and only son:
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
I'll leave her houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
Old signior Gremio has in Padua;
Besides two thousand ducats by the year,
Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure. -
What, have I pinch'd you, signior Gremio?

:

Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year, of land! My land amounts not to so much in all : That she shall have; besides an argosy', That now is lying in Marseilles' road: What, have I chok'd you with an argosy?

• Coverings for beds; now called counterpanes.
9 A large merchant-ship.