Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,
Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman?
Such war of white and red within her cheeks! 30
What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty,
As those two eyes become that heavenly face?
Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee.
Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake.
Hor. A' will make the man mad, to make a
woman of him.

Kath. Young budding virgi fair and fresh and sweet,

Whither away, or where is thy abode?
Happy the parents of so fair a child;
Happier the man, whom favourable stars
Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow!

Pet. Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art not mad:

This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd,
And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is.

Kath. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,
That have been so bedazzled with the sun
That every thing I look on seemeth green :
Now I perceive thou art a reverend father;
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.

Pet. Do, good old grandsire; and, withal make known

50

40

Which way thou travellest: if along with us, We shall be joyful of thy company.

Vin. Fair sir, and you my merry mistress, That with your strange encounter much amaz'd

me,

My name is call'd Vincentio; my dwelling Pisa;
And bound I am to Padua, there to visit
A son of mine, which long I have not seen.
Pet. What is his name?

Vin.

Lucentio, gentle sir. Pet. Happily met; the happier for thy son. And now by law, as well as reverend age, I may entitle thee my loving father: The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman, Thy son by this hath married. Wonder not, Nor be not griev'd: she is of good esteem, Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth; Beside, so qualified as may beseem The spouse of any noble gentleman. Let me embrace with old Vincentio ; And wander we to see thy honest son, Who will of thy arrival be full joyous.

Vin But is this true? or is it else your pleasure, Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest Upon the company you overtake?

Hor. I do assure thee, father, so it is.

Pet. Come, go along, and see the truth hereof; For our first merriment hath made thee jealous. Exeunt all but HORTENSIO. Hor. Well, Petruchio, this has put me in heart. Have to my widow! and if she be froward, Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward. Exit.

60

70

ACT V.

SCENE I.-Padua. Before LUCENTIO'S House. GREMIO discovered. Enter behind, BIONDELLO, LUCENTIO, and BIANCA.

Bion. Softly and swiftly, sir, for the priest is ready.

I uc. I fly, Biondello: but they may chance to need thee at home; therefore leave us.

Vin. What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two, to make merry withal?

Ped. Keep your hundred pounds to yourself: he shall need none so long as I live.

Pet. Nay, I told you your son was well beloved in Padua. Do you hear, sir? To leave frivolous circumstances, I pray you tell Signior Lucentio that his father is come from Pisa, and is here at the door to speak with him.

Ped. Thou liest: his father is come from Padua, and here looking out at the window. Vin. Art thou his father?

31

Ped. Ay, sir; so his mother says, if I may believe her.

Pet. To VINCENTIO. Why, how now, gentleman! Why, this is flat knavery, to take upon you another man's name.

Ped. Lay hands on the villain: I believe a' means to cozen somebody in this city under my countenance.

40

Re-enter BIONDELLO.

Bion. I have seen them in the church together: God send 'em good shipping! But who is here? mine old master, Vincentio! now we are undone and brought to nothing.

Vin. Seeing BIONDELLO. Come hither, crackhemp.

Bion. I hope I may choose, sir.

Vin. Come hither, you rogue. What, have you forgot me?

Bion. Forgot you! no, sir: I could not forget you, for I never saw you before in all my life. 51 Vin. What, you notorious villain! didst thou never see thy master's father, Vincentio ?

Bion. What, my old worshipful old master? yes, marry, sir; see where he looks out of the window. Vin. Is 't so, indeed? Beats BIONDELLO. Bion. Help, help, help! here's a madman will murder me. Exit.

Ped. Help, son! help, Signior Baptista. Exit above. Pet. Prithee, Kate, let's stand aside, and see the end of this controversy. They retire. 61

Enter Pedant, BAPTISTA, TRANIO, and Servants.

Tra. Sir, what are you that offer to beat my servant?

Vin. What am I, sir! nay, what are you, sir? O immortal gods! O fine villain! A silken doublet! a velvet hose! a scarlet cloak! and a copatain hat! O, I am undone! I am undone ! while I play the good husband at home, my son and my servant spend all at the university. Tra. How now! what's the matter? Bap. What, is the man lunatic? Tra. Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your habit, but your words show you a madman. Why, sir, what 'cerns it you if I wear pearl and gold? I thank my good father, I am able to maintain it.

70

Vin. Thy father! O villain! he is a sail-maker in Bergamo.

Bap. You mistake, sir; you mistake, sir. Pray, what do you think is his name?

80

Vin. His name! as if I knew not his name: I have brought him up ever since he was three years old, and his name is Tranio.

Ped. Away, away, mad ass! his name is Lucentio; and he is mine only son, and heir to the lands of me, Signior Vincentio.

Vin. Lucentio! O! he hath murdered his master. Lay hold on him, I charge you, in the duke's name. O my son, my son. thou villain, where is my son Lucentio ? Tra. Call forth an officer.

Enter one with an Officer.

Tell me,

90

Carry this mad knave to the gaol. Father Baptista. I charge you see that he be forthcoming. Vin. Carry me to the gaol!

Gre. Stay, officer: he shall not go to prison. Bap. Talk not, Signior Gremio: I say he shall go to prison.

Gre. Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be cony-catched in this business: I dare swear this is the right Vincentio.

Ped. Swear, if thou darest.

Gre. Nay, I dare not swear it.

100

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. Bianca'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. 130
Vin. I'll slit the villain's nose, that would
have sent me to the gaol.

Bap. But do you hear, sir? Have you married my daughter without asking my good will? Vin. Fear not, Baptista; we will content you, goto: but I will in, to be revenged for this villany. Exit. Bap. And I, to sound the depth of this knavery. Exit. Luc. Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown. Exeunt LUCENTIO and BIANCA. Gre. My cake is dough; but I'll in among the rest,

Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast.

140

Exit.

PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA advance. Kath. Husband, let's follow, to see the end of 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?
Kath. No, sir, God forbid; but ashamed to kiss.
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.

150

Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Same. A Room in LUCENTIO'S House.

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.

11

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.

I'll venture so much of my hawk, or hound,

Pet. Roundly replied. Kath.

20

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.

30

Right, I mean you. Kath. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you. Pet. To her, Kate!

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. 51 Tra. O sir! Lucentio slipp'd me, like his greyhound.

60

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. A hundred then.

Bap. Son, I will be your half, Bianca comes. Luc. I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself. Re-enter BIONDELLO.

How now! what news?

81

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. Re-enter BIONDELLO.

Now, where's my wife?

90

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.
I know her answer.

Hor.

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,

110

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 of obedience.

But love, fair looks, and true obedience;

120

As prisoners to her womanly persuasion.
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 suppertime. 129

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 : 139 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

150

160

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! 170
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

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. To LUCENTIO. 'Twas I won the wager, 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. 190

SCENE I.-Rousillon. A Room in the COUNTESS'S Palace.

Enter BERTRAM, the COUNTESS OF ROUSILLON, HELENA, and LAFEU, all in black.

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. 12

Count. What hope is there of his majesty's amendment?

Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advan tage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.

19

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 called you the man you speak of, madam? 29

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.

DIANA, Daughter to the Widow.

VIOLENTA, Neighbours and Friends to the MARIANA, S Widow.

Ber. What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?

Laf. A fistula, my lord.

Ber. I heard not of it before.

40

gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon! Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this

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.

51

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

Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can season her praise in. The remembrance of her father never approaches her heart but the tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood from her cheek. No more of this, Helena; go to, no more; lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow than have it. Hel. I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I have it too.

61

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 blest, Bertram; and succeed thy father

In manners, as in shape! thy blood and virtue Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness 70 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,