The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

HORTENSIO. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister.

GREMIO. A husband? a devil.

HORTENSIO. I say a husband.

GREMIO. I say a devil. Think’st thou, Hortensio, though her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to hell?

HORTENSIO. 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.

GREMIO. I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry with this condition: to be whipp’d at the high cross every morning.

HORTENSIO. 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 maintain’d 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?

GREMIO. 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

TRANIO. I pray, sir, tell me, is it possible That love should of a sudden take such hold?

LUCENTIO. 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.

TRANIO. 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.’

LUCENTIO. Gramercies, lad. Go forward; this contents; The rest will comfort, for thy counsel’s sound.

TRANIO. Master, you look’d so longly on the maid.

Perhaps you mark’d not what’s the pith of all.

LUCENTIO. 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.

TRANIO. Saw you no more? Mark’d you not how her sister Began to scold and raise up such a storm That mortal ears might hardly endure the din?

LUCENTIO. 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.

TRANIO. Nay, then ‘tis time to stir him from his trance.

I pray, awake, sir. If you love the maid, 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 will not be annoy’d with suitors.

LUCENTIO. 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?

TRANIO. Ay, marry, am I, sir, and now ‘tis plotted.

LUCENTIO. I have it, Tranio.

TRANIO. Master, for my hand,

Both our inventions meet and jump in one.

LUCENTIO. Tell me thine first.

TRANIO. You will be schoolmaster,

And undertake the teaching of the maid-That’s your device.

LUCENTIO. It is. May it be done?

TRANIO. 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?

LUCENTIO. Basta, content thee, for I have it full.

We have not yet been seen in any house, Nor can we be distinguish’d 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 meaner 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.

TRANIO. So had you need. [They exchange habits]

In brief, 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 senseI am content to be Lucentio,

Because so well I love Lucentio.

LUCENTIO. Tranio, be so because Lucentio loves; And let me be a slave t’ achieve that maid Whose sudden sight hath thrall’d my wounded eye.

Enter BIONDELLO.

Here comes the rogue. Sirrah, where have you been?

BIONDELLO. Where have I been! Nay, how now! where are you?

Master, has my fellow Tranio stol’n your clothes?

Or you stol’n his? or both? Pray, what’s the news?

LUCENTIO. 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 count’nance 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?

BIONDELLO. I, sir? Ne’er a whit.

LUCENTIO. And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth: Tranio is chang’d into Lucentio.

BIONDELLO. The better for him; would I were so too!

TRANIO. So could I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after, That Lucentio indeed had Baptista’s youngest daughter.

But, sirrah, not for my sake but your master’s, I advise You use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies.

When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio; But in all places else your master Lucentio.

LUCENTIO. 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 The Presenters above speak FIRST SERVANT. 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.

SLY. ‘Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady Would ‘twere done! [They sit and mark]

SCENE II.

Padua. Before HORTENSIO’S house

Enter PETRUCHIO and his man GRUMIO

PETRUCHIO. Verona, for a while I take my leave, To see my friends in Padua; but of all My best beloved and approved friend,

Hortensio; and I trow this is his house.

Here, sirrah Grumio, knock, I say.

GRUMIO. Knock, sir! Whom should I knock?

Is there any man has rebus’d your worship?

PETRUCHIO. Villain, I say, knock me here soundly.

GRUMIO. Knock you here, sir? Why, sir, what am I, sir, that I should knock you here, sir?

PETRUCHIO. Villain, I say, knock me at this gate, And rap me well, or I’ll knock your knave’s pate.

GRUMIO. My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock you first, And then I know after who comes by the worst.

PETRUCHIO. Will it not be?

Faith, sirrah, an you’ll not knock I’ll ring it; I’ll try how you can sol-fa, and sing it.

[He wrings him by the ears]

GRUMIO. Help, masters, help! My master is mad.

PETRUCHIO. Now knock when I bid you, sirrah villain!

Enter HORTENSIO

HORTENSIO. How now! what’s the matter? My old friend Grumio and my good friend Petruchio! How do you all at Verona?

PETRUCHIO. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray?

‘Con tutto il cuore ben trovato’ may I say.

HORTENSIO. Alla nostra casa ben venuto, Molto honorato signor mio Petruchio.

Rise, Grumio, rise; we will compound this quarrel.

GRUMIO. Nay, ‘tis no matter, sir, 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 had not Grumio come by the worst.

PETRUCHIO. A senseless villain! Good Hortensio, I bade the rascal knock upon your gate, And could not get him for my heart to do it.

GRUMIO. 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’?

PETRUCHIO. Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you.

HORTENSIO. Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio’s pledge; Why, this’s 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?

PETRUCHIO. Such wind as scatters young men through the world To seek their fortunes farther 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.

HORTENSIO. 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 th’art too much my friend, And I’ll not wish thee to her.

PETRUCHIO. Signior Hortensio, ‘twixt such friends as we Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know One rich enough to be Petruchio’s wife, As wealth is burden of my wooing dance, Be she as foul as was Florentius’ love, As old as Sibyl, and as curst and shrewd As Socrates’ Xanthippe 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.

GRUMIO. Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what his mind is.

Why, give him gold enough and marry him to a puppet or an aglet-baby, or an old trot with ne’er a tooth in her head, though she has as many diseases as two and fifty horses. Why, nothing comes amiss, so money comes withal.

HORTENSIO. Petruchio, since we are stepp’d thus far in, I will continue that I broach’d in jest.

I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife With wealth enough, and young and beauteous; Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman; Her only fault, and that is faults enough, Is-that she is intolerable curst,

And shrewd and froward so beyond all measure That, were my state far worser than it is, I would not wed her for a mine of gold.

PETRUCHIO. Hortensio, peace! thou know’st not gold’s effect.

Tell me her father’s name, and ‘tis enough; For I will board her though she chide as loud As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack.

HORTENSIO. Her father is Baptista Minola, An affable and courteous gentleman;

Her name is Katherina Minola,

Renown’d in Padua for her scolding tongue.

PETRUCHIO. I know her father, though I know not her; And he knew my deceased father well.

I will not