Hor. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.
Bap. What will my daughter prove a good

musician?
Hor. I think she'll sooner prove a soldier :
Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.
Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her to

the lute ? Hor. Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to

me.

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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 had she studied to misuse me so.

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Pet. 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!
Bap. Well, go with me and be not so discom-

fited :
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 ?
Pet. I pray you do. [Exeunt all but Petruchio.]

I will attend her here,
And woo her with some spirit when she comes.
Say that she rail; why then I'll tell her plain

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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.

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زا

Enter KATHARINA. Good morrow, Kate; for that 's your name, I hear. Kath. Well have you heard, but something hard

of hearing : They call me Katharine that do talk of me. Pet. 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 praised in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,
Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,
Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.

Kath. Moved ! in good time : let him that moved

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you hither

Remove you hence: I knew you at the first
You were a moveable.

200

a

Pet.

Why, what 's a moveable ?
Kath. A join'd-stool.
Pet.

Thou hast hit it : come, sit on me. Kath. Asses are made to bear, and so are you. Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are you. Kath. No such jade as you, if me you mean.

Pet. Alas! good Kate, I will not burden thee; For, knowing thee to be but young and lightKath. Too light for such a swain as you to

catch;
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.

Pet. Should be ! should-buzz !
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 does wear his sting? In his tail.

Kath. In his tongue.
Pet. Whose tongue ?
Kath. Yours, if you talk of tails : and so fare-

well.
Pet. What, with my tongue in your tail ? nay,

come again,

210

Good Kate ; I am a gentleman.
Kath.
That I'll try.

[She strikes him. 220 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.

230

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

not sour. Kath. There is, there is. Pet. Then show it me. Kath. Had a glass, I would. Pet. What, you mean my face? Kath. Well aim'd of such a young one. Pet. Now, by Saint George, I am too young

for you.

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Kath. Yet you are wither'd.
Pet. 'Tis with cares.
Kath. I care not.
Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate : in sooth you scape

not so.
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 ;

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260

For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing cour

teous, 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 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. Kath. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st com

mand. 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 ? Kath. Yes; keep you warm. Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, 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,

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