The Taming of the Shrew

    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; comesthere    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 youfirst,    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 andmy    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. Ifthis    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 itfit    for a servant to use his master so; being, perhaps, for aughtI    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 thegate'?  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 mindis.    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 sleep, Hortensio, till I see her;    And therefore let me be thus bold with you    To give you over at this first encounter,    Unless you will accompany me thither.  GRUMIO. I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour lasts. O'my    word, and she knew him as well as I do, she would thinkscolding    would do little good upon him. She may perhaps call him halfa    score knaves or so. Why, that's nothing; and he begin once,he'll    rail in his rope-tricks. I'll tell you what, sir: an shestand    him but a little, he will throw a figure in her face, and so    disfigure her with it that she shall have no more eyes to see    withal than a cat. You know him not, sir.  HORTENSIO. Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee,    For in Baptista's keep my treasure is.    He hath the jewel of my life in hold,    His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca;    And her withholds from me, and other more,    Suitors to her and rivals in my love;    Supposing it a thing impossible-    For those defects I have before rehears'd-    That ever Katherina will be woo'd.    Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en,    That none shall have access unto Bianca    Till Katherine the curst have got a husband.  GRUMIO. Katherine the curst!    A title for a maid of all titles the worst.  HORTENSIO. Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace,    And offer me disguis'd in sober robes    To old Baptista as a schoolmaster    Well seen in music, to instruct Bianca;    That so I may by this device at least    Have leave and leisure to make love to her,    And unsuspected court her by herself.

Enter GREMIO with LUCENTIO disguised as CAMBIO

  GRUMIO. Here's no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks, howthe    young folks lay their heads together! Master, master, lookabout    you. Who goes there, ha?  HORTENSIO. Peace, Grumio! It is the rival of my love.Petruchio,    stand by awhile.  GRUMIO. A proper stripling, and an amorous!                                              [They stand aside]  GREMIO. O, very well; I have perus'd the note.    Hark you, sir; I'll have them very fairly bound-    All books of love, see that at any hand;    And see you read no other lectures to her.    You understand me- over and beside    Signior Baptista's liberality,    I'll mend it with a largess. Take your paper too,    And let me have them very well perfum'd;    For she is sweeter than perfume itself    To whom they go to. What will you read to her?  LUCENTIO. Whate'er I read to her, I'll plead for you    As for my patron, stand you so assur'd,    As firmly as yourself were still in place;    Yea, and perhaps with more successful words    Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir.  GREMIO. O this learning, what a thing it is!  GRUMIO. O this woodcock, what an ass it is!  PETRUCHIO. Peace, sirrah!  HORTENSIO. Grumio, mum! [Coming forward]    God save you, Signior Gremio!  GREMIO. And you are well met, Signior Hortensio.    Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola.    I promis'd to enquire carefully    About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca;    And by good fortune I have lighted well    On this young man; for learning and behaviour    Fit for her turn, well read in poetry    And other books- good ones, I warrant ye.  HORTENSIO. 'Tis well; and I have met a gentleman    Hath promis'd me to help me to another,    A fine musician to instruct our mistress;    So shall I no whit be behind in duty    To fair Bianca, so beloved of me.  GREMIO. Beloved of me- and that my deeds shall prove.  GRUMIO. And that his bags shall prove.  HORTENSIO. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love.    Listen to me, and if you speak me fair    I'll tell you news indifferent good for either.    Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met,    Upon agreement from us to his liking,    Will undertake to woo curst Katherine;    Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please.  GREMIO. So said, so done, is well.    Hortensio, have you told him all her faults?  PETRUCHIO. I know she is an irksome brawling scold;    If that be all, masters, I hear no harm.  GREMIO. No, say'st me so, friend? What countryman?  PETRUCHIO. Born in Verona, old Antonio's son.    My father dead, my fortune lives for me;    And I do hope good days and long to see.  GREMIO. O Sir, such a life with such a wife were strange!    But if you have a stomach, to't a God's name;    You shall have me assisting you in all.    But will you woo this wild-cat?  PETRUCHIO. Will I live?  GRUMIO. Will he woo her? Ay, or I'll hang her.  PETRUCHIO. Why came I hither but to that intent?    Think you a little din can daunt mine ears?    Have I not in my time heard lions roar?    Have I not heard the sea, puff'd up with winds,    Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat?    Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,    And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?    Have I not in a pitched battle heard    Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang?    And do you tell me of a woman's tongue,    That gives not half so great a blow to hear    As will a chestnut in a fariner's fire?    Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs.  GRUMIO. For he fears none.  GREMIO. Hortensio, hark:    This gentleman is happily arriv'd,    My mind presumes, for his own good and ours.  HORTENSIO. I promis'd we would be contributors    And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe'er.  GREMIO. And so we will- provided that he win her.  GRUMIO. I would I were as sure of a good dinner.

Enter TRANIO, bravely apparelled as LUCENTIO, and BIONDELLO

  TRANIO. Gentlemen, God save you! If I may be bold,    Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way    To the house of Signior Baptista Minola?  BIONDELLO. He that has the two fair daughters; is't he youmean?  TRANIO. Even he, Biondello.  GREMIO. Hark you, sir, you mean not her to-  TRANIO. Perhaps him and her, sir; what have you to do?  PETRUCHIO. Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray.  TRANIO. I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, let's away.  LUCENTIO. [Aside] Well begun, Tranio.  HORTENSIO. Sir, a word ere you go.    Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no?  TRANIO. And if I be, sir, is it any offence?  GREMIO. No; if without more words you will get you hence.  TRANIO. Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free    For me as for you?  GREMIO. But so is not she.  TRANIO. For what reason, I beseech you?  GREMIO. For this reason, if you'll know,    That she's the choice love of Signior Gremio.  HORTENSIO. That she's the chosen of Signior Hortensio.  TRANIO. Softly, my masters! If you be gentlemen,    Do me this right- hear me with patience.    Baptista is a noble gentleman,    To whom my father is not all unknown,    And, were his daughter fairer than she is,    She may more suitors have, and me for one.    Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers;    Then well one more may fair Bianca have;    And so she shall: Lucentio shall make one,    Though Paris came in hope to speed alone.  GREMIO. What, this gentleman will out-talk us all!  LUCENTIO. Sir, give him head; I know he'll prove a jade.  PETRUCHIO. Hortensio, to what end are all these words?  HORTENSIO. Sir, let me be so bold as ask you,    Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter?  TRANIO. No, sir, but hear I do that he hath two:    The one as famous for a scolding tongue    As is the other for beauteous modesty.  PETRUCHIO. Sir, sir, the first's for me; let her go by.  GREMIO. Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules,    And let it be more than Alcides' twelve.  PETRUCHIO. Sir, understand you this of me, in sooth:    The youngest daughter, whom you hearken for,    Her father keeps from all access of suitors,    And will not promise her to any man    Until the elder sister first be wed.    The younger then is free, and not before.  TRANIO. If it be so, sir, that you are the man    Must stead us all, and me amongst the rest;    And if you break the ice, and do this feat,    Achieve the elder, set the younger free    For our access- whose hap shall be to have her    Will not so graceless be to be ingrate.  HORTENSIO. Sir, you say well, and well you do conceive;    And since you do profess to be a suitor,    You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman,    To whom we all rest generally beholding.  TRANIO. Sir, I shall not be slack; in sign whereof,    Please ye we may contrive this afternoon,    And quaff carouses to our mistress' health;    And do as adversaries do in law-    Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.  GRUMIO, BIONDELLO. O excellent motion! Fellows, let's be gone.  HORTENSIO. The motion's good indeed, and be it so.    Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto. Exeunt

ACT II. SCENE I. Padua. BAPTISTA'S house

Enter KATHERINA and BIANCA

  BIANCA. Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,    To make a bondmaid and a slave of me-    That I disdain; but for these other gawds,    Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself,    Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat;    Or what you will command me will I do,    So well I know my duty to my elders.  KATHERINA. Of all thy suitors here I charge thee tell    Whom thou lov'st best. See thou dissemble not.  BIANCA. Believe me, sister, of all the men alive    I never yet beheld that special face    Which I could fancy more than any other.  KATHERINA. Minion, thou liest. Is't not Hortensio?  BIANCA. If you affect him, sister, here I swear    I'll plead for you myself but you shall have him.  KATHERINA. O then, belike, you fancy riches more:    You will have Gremio to keep you fair.  BIANCA. Is it for him you do envy me so?    Nay, then you jest; and now I well perceive    You have but jested with me all this while.    I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands.  KATHERINA. [Strikes her] If that be jest, then an the rest wasso.

Enter BAPTISTA

  BAPTISTA. Why, how now, dame! Whence grows this insolence?    Bianca, stand aside- poor girl! she weeps.                                                [He unbinds her]    Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her.    For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit,    Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee?    When did she cross thee with a bitter word?  KATHERINA. Her silence flouts me, and I'll be reveng'd.                                            [Flies after BIANCA]  BAPTISTA. What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in.                                                     Exit BIANCA  KATHERINA. What, will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see    She is your treasure, she must have a husband;    I must dance bare-foot on her wedding-day,    And for your love to her lead apes in hell.    Talk not to me; I will go sit and weep,    Till I can find occasion of revenge. Exit KATHERINA  BAPTISTA. Was ever gentleman thus griev'd as I?    But who comes here?

Enter GREMIO, with LUCENTIO in the habit of a mean man;

PETRUCHIO, with HORTENSIO as a musician; and TRANIO,

as LUCENTIO, with his boy, BIONDELLO, bearing a lute and

books  GREMIO. Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.  BAPTISTA. Good morrow, neighbour Gremio.    God save you, gentlemen!  PETRUCHIO. And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter    Call'd Katherina, fair and virtuous?  BAPTISTA. I have a daughter, sir, call'd Katherina.  GREMIO. You are too blunt; go to it orderly.  PETRUCHIO. You wrong me, Signior Gremio; give me leave.    I am a gentleman of Verona, sir,    That, hearing of her beauty and her wit,    Her affability and bashful modesty,    Her wondrous qualities and mild behaviour,    Am bold to show myself a forward guest    Within your house, to make mine eye the witness    Of that report which I so oft have heard.    And, for an entrance to my entertainment,    I do present you with a man of mine,                                          [Presenting HORTENSIO]    Cunning in music and the mathematics,    To instruct her fully in those sciences,    Whereof I know she is not ignorant.    Accept of him, or else you do me wrong-    His name is Licio, born in Mantua.  BAPTISTA. Y'are welcome, sir, and he for your good sake;    But for my daughter Katherine, this I know,    She is not for your turn, the more my grief.  PETRUCHIO. I see you do not mean to part with her;    Or else you like not of my company.  BAPTISTA. Mistake me not; I speak but as I find.    Whence are you, sir? What may I call your name?  PETRUCHIO. Petruchio is my name, Antonio's son,    A man well known throughout all Italy.  BAPTISTA. I know him well; you are welcome for his sake.  GREMIO. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,    Let us that are poor petitioners speak too.    Bacare! you are marvellous forward.  PETRUCHIO. O, pardon me, Signior Gremio! I would fain be doing.  GREMIO. I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your wooing.    Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am sure of it. To    express the like kindness, myself, that have been more kindly    beholding to you than any, freely give unto you this young    scholar [Presenting LUCENTIO] that hath been long studyingat    Rheims; as cunning in Greek, Latin, and other languages, asthe    other in music and mathematics. His name is Cambio. Prayaccept    his service.  BAPTISTA. A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio. Welcome, goodCambio.    [To TRANIO] But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like astranger.    May I be so bold to know the cause of your coming?  TRANIO. Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own    That, being a stranger in this city here,    Do make myself a suitor to your daughter,    Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous.    Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me    In the preferment of the eldest sister.    This liberty is all that I request-    That, upon knowledge of my parentage,    I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo,    And free access and favour as the rest.    And toward the education of your daughters    I here bestow a simple instrument,    And this small packet of Greek and Latin books.    If you accept them, then their worth is great.  BAPTISTA. Lucentio is your name? Of whence, I pray?  TRANIO. Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio.  BAPTISTA. A mighty man of Pisa. By report    I know him well. You are very welcome, sir.    Take you the lute, and you the set of books;    You shall go see your pupils presently.    Holla, within!

Enter a SERVANT

    Sirrah, lead these gentlemen    To my daughters; and tell them both    These are their tutors. Bid them use them well.Exit SERVANT leading HORTENSIO carrying the lute and LUCENTIO with the books    We will go walk a little in the orchard,    And then to dinner. You are passing welcome,    And so I pray you all to think yourselves.  PETRUCHIO. Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,    And every day I cannot come to woo.    You knew my father well, and in him me,    Left solely heir to all his lands and goods,    Which I have bettered rather than decreas'd.    Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love,    What dowry shall I have with her to wife?  BAPTISTA. After my death, the one half of my lands    And, in possession, twenty thousand crowns.  PETRUCHIO. And for that dowry, I'll assure her of    Her widowhood, be it that she survive me,    In all my lands and leases whatsoever.    Let specialities be therefore drawn between us,    That covenants may be kept on either hand.  BAPTISTA. Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd,    That is, her love; for that is all in all.  PETRUCHIO. Why, that is nothing; for I tell you, father,    I am as peremptory as she proud-minded;    And where two raging fires meet together,    They do consume the thing that feeds their fury.    Though little fire grows great with little wind,    Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all.    So I to her, and so she yields to me;    For I am rough, and woo not like a babe.  BAPTISTA. Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed    But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words.  PETRUCHIO. Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds,    That shake not though they blow perpetually.

Re-enter HORTENSIO, with his head broke

  BAPTISTA. How now, my friend! Why dost thou look so pale?  HORTENSIO. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.  BAPTISTA. What, will my daughter prove a good musician?  HORTENSIO. I think she'll sooner prove a soldier:    Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.  BAPTISTA. Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute?  HORTENSIO. Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me.    I did but tell her she mistook her frets,    And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering,    When, with a most impatient devilish spirit,    'Frets, call you these?' quoth she 'I'll fume with them.'    And with that word she struck me on the head,    And through the instrument my pate made way;    And there I stood amazed for a while,    As on a pillory, looking through the lute,    While she did call me rascal fiddler    And twangling Jack, with twenty such vile terms,    As she had studied to misuse me so.  PETRUCHIO. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench;    I love her ten times more than e'er I did.    O, how I long to have some chat with her!  BAPTISTA. Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited;    Proceed in practice with my younger daughter;    She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns.    Signior Petruchio, will you go with us,    Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?  PETRUCHIO. I pray you do. Exeunt all but PETRUCHIO    I'll attend her here,    And woo her with some spirit when she comes.    Say that she rail; why, then I'll tell her plain    She sings as sweetly as a nightingale.    Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear    As morning roses newly wash'd with dew.    Say she be mute, and will not speak a word;    Then I'll commend her volubility,    And say she uttereth piercing eloquence.    If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks,    As though she bid me stay by her a week;    If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day    When I shall ask the banns, and when be married.    But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak.

Enter KATHERINA

    Good morrow, Kate- for that's your name, I hear.  KATHERINA. Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:    They call me Katherine that do talk of me.  PETRUCHIO. You lie, in faith, for you are call'd plain Kate,    And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst;    But, Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,    Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate,    For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate,    Take this of me, Kate of my consolation-    Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every town,    Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,    Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,    Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife.  KATHERINA. Mov'd! in good time! Let him that mov'd you hither    Remove you hence. I knew you at the first    You were a moveable.  PETRUCHIO. Why, what's a moveable?  KATHERINA. A join'd-stool.  PETRUCHIO. Thou hast hit it. Come, sit on me.  KATHERINA. Asses are made to bear, and so are you.  PETRUCHIO. Women are made to bear, and so are you.  KATHERINA. No such jade as you, if me you mean.  PETRUCHIO. Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee!    For, knowing thee to be but young and light-  KATHERINA. Too light for such a swain as you to catch;    And yet as heavy as my weight should be.  PETRUCHIO. Should be! should- buzz!  KATHERINA. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.  PETRUCHIO. O, slow-wing'd turtle, shall a buzzard take thee?  KATHERINA. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.  PETRUCHIO. Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry.  KATHERINA. If I be waspish, best beware my sting.  PETRUCHIO. My remedy is then to pluck it out.  KATHERINA. Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies.  PETRUCHIO. Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting?    In his tail.  KATHERINA. In his tongue.  PETRUCHIO. Whose tongue?  KATHERINA. Yours, if you talk of tales; and so farewell.  PETRUCHIO. What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again,    Good Kate; I am a gentleman.  KATHERINA. That I'll try. [She strikes him]  PETRUCHIO. I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again.  KATHERINA. So may you lose your arms.    If you strike me, you are no gentleman;    And if no gentleman, why then no arms.  PETRUCHIO. A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books!  KATHERINA. What is your crest- a coxcomb?  PETRUCHIO. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.  KATHERINA. No cock of mine: you crow too like a craven.  PETRUCHIO. Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour.  KATHERINA. It is my fashion, when I see a crab.  PETRUCHIO. Why, here's no crab; and therefore look not sour.  KATHERINA. There is, there is.  PETRUCHIO. Then show it me.  KATHERINA. Had I a glass I would.  PETRUCHIO. What, you mean my face?  KATHERINA. Well aim'd of such a young one.  PETRUCHIO. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.  KATHERINA. Yet you are wither'd.  PETRUCHIO. 'Tis with cares.  KATHERINA. I care not.  PETRUCHIO. Nay, hear you, Kate- in sooth, you scape not so.  KATHERINA. I chafe you, if I tarry; let me go.  PETRUCHIO. 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 springtime 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 sland'rous world! Kate like the hazel-twig    Is straight and slender, and as brown in hue    As hazel-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels.    O, let me see thee walk. Thou dost not halt.  KATHERINA. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command.  PETRUCHIO. 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!  KATHERINA. Where did you study all this goodly speech?  PETRUCHIO. It is extempore, from my mother wit.  KATHERINA. A witty mother! witless else her son.  PETRUCHIO. Am I not wise?  KATHERINA. Yes, keep you warm.  PETRUCHIO. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katherine, in thy bed.    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 Kate to a Kate    Conformable as other household Kates.

Re-enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and TRANIO