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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.

Bap. Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed! But be thou armed for some unhappy words. Pet. Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds, That shake not, though they blow perpetually.

Re-enter HORTENSIO, with his head broken.

Bap. How now, my friend? Why dost thou look so pale?
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: I did but tell her, she mistook her frets,

And bowed 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.

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 discomfited. Proceed in practice with my younger daughter; She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns.Seignior Petruchio, will you go with us?

Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?

Pet. I pray you, do; 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,
She sings as sweetly as a nightingale.

Say, that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear
As morning roses newly washed 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 bans, and when be married.
But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak.


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

They call me-Katharine, that do talk of me.

Pet. You lie, in faith; for you are called 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 cates; and therefore, Kate, Take this of me, Kate of my consolation;Hearing thy mildness praised in every town, Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauties 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 you


Remove you hence. I knew you at the first,

You were a movable.


Kath. A joint-stool.

Why, what's a movable?

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, sir, as you, if me you mean. Pet. Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee For knowing thee to be but young and light,Kath. Too light for such a swain as you to catch; And yet as heavy as my weight should be.

Pet. Should be? should buzz.


Well ta'en, and like a buzzard. Pet. O, slow-winged 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 sting?

In his tail.

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Whose tongue?

Kath. Yours, if you talk of tails; and so farewell. Pet. What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come

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That I'll try.

[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


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.


Had I a glass, I would.

Well aimed of such a young one.

Pet. What, you mean my face?

Pet. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.
Kath. Yet you are withered.



'Tis with cares.

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;

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 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 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?


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, nil 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.
Here comes your father; never make denial;
I must and will have Katharine to my wife.

Bap. Now,

Seignior Petruchio, how speed you with

My daughter?


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 showed a tender, fatherly regard,

To wish me wed to one half lunatic;

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 talked of her, have talked 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;
VOL. II.-3

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 hanged on Sunday first.

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

Tra. Is this your speeding? Nay, then, good night our part!

Pet. Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for myself. If she and I be pleased, what's that to you?

'Tis bargained '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.
O, you are novices! 'Tis a world to see,
How tame, when men and women are alone,
A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.
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; but give me your hands; God 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 PET. and KATH. severally.
Gre. Was ever match clapped up so suddenly?
Bap. Faith, 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 neighbor, 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. Gray-beard! thy love doth freeze.

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