SCENE II.
LUCENTIO'S house

Enter BAPTISTA, VINCENTIO, GREMIO, the PEDANT, LUCENTIO, BIANCA,
PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, HORTENSIO, and WIDOW. The SERVINGMEN with
TRANIO,
BIONDELLO, and GRUMIO, bringing in a banquet

  LUCENTIO. 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 Katherina,
    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.            [They sit]
  PETRUCHIO. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat!
  BAPTISTA. Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio.
  PETRUCHIO. Padua affords nothing but what is kind.
  HORTENSIO. For both our sakes I would that word were true.
  PETRUCHIO. Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow.
  WIDOW. Then never trust me if I be afeard.
  PETRUCHIO. YOU are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense:
    I mean Hortensio is afeard of you.
  WIDOW. He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.
  PETRUCHIO. Roundly replied.
  KATHERINA. Mistress, how mean you that?
  WIDOW. Thus I conceive by him.
  PETRUCHIO. Conceives by me! How likes Hortensio that?
  HORTENSIO. My widow says thus she conceives her tale.
  PETRUCHIO. Very well mended. Kiss him for that, good widow.
  KATHERINA. 'He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.'
    I pray you tell me what you meant by that.
  WIDOW. Your husband, being troubled with a shrew,
    Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe;
    And now you know my meaning.
  KATHERINA. A very mean meaning.
  WIDOW. Right, I mean you.
  KATHERINA. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you.
  PETRUCHIO. To her, Kate!
  HORTENSIO. To her, widow!
  PETRUCHIO. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down.
  HORTENSIO. That's my office.
  PETRUCHIO. Spoke like an officer- ha' to thee, lad.
                                           [Drinks to HORTENSIO]
  BAPTISTA. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks?
  GREMIO. Believe me, sir, they butt together well.
  BIANCA. Head and butt! An hasty-witted body
    Would say your head and butt were head and horn.
  VINCENTIO. Ay, mistress bride, hath that awakened you?
  BIANCA. Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I'll sleep again.
  PETRUCHIO. Nay, that you shall not; since you have begun,
    Have at you for a bitter jest or two.
  BIANCA. 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, KATHERINA, and WIDOW
  PETRUCHIO. 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.
  TRANIO. O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his greyhound,
    Which runs himself, and catches for his master.
  PETRUCHIO. A good swift simile, but something currish.
  TRANIO. 'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself;
    'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay.
  BAPTISTA. O, O, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now.
  LUCENTIO. I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio.
  HORTENSIO. Confess, confess; hath he not hit you here?
  PETRUCHIO. '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.
  BAPTISTA. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio,
    I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.
  PETRUCHIO. 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.
  HORTENSIO. Content. What's the wager?
  LUCENTIO. Twenty crowns.
  PETRUCHIO. Twenty crowns?
    I'll venture so much of my hawk or hound,
    But twenty times so much upon my wife.
  LUCENTIO. A hundred then.
  HORTENSIO. Content.
  PETRUCHIO. A match! 'tis done.
  HORTENSIO. Who shall begin?
  LUCENTIO. That will I.
    Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me.
  BIONDELLO. I go.                                          Exit
  BAPTISTA. Son, I'll be your half Bianca comes.
  LUCENTIO. I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself.

                          Re-enter BIONDELLO

    How now! what news?
  BIONDELLO. Sir, my mistress sends you word
    That she is busy and she cannot come.
  PETRUCHIO. How! She's busy, and she cannot come!
    Is that an answer?
  GREMIO. Ay, and a kind one too.
    Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse.
  PETRUCHIO. I hope better.
  HORTENSIO. Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife
    To come to me forthwith.                      Exit BIONDELLO
  PETRUCHIO. O, ho! entreat her!
    Nay, then she must needs come.
  HORTENSIO. I am afraid, sir,
    Do what you can, yours will not be entreated.

                            Re-enter BIONDELLO

    Now, where's my wife?
  BIONDELLO. She says you have some goodly jest in hand:
    She will not come; she bids you come to her.
  PETRUCHIO. 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
  HORTENSIO. I know her answer.
  PETRUCHIO. What?
  HORTENSIO. She will not.
  PETRUCHIO. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.

                             Re-enter KATHERINA

  BAPTISTA. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katherina!
  KATHERINA. What is your sir, that you send for me?
  PETRUCHIO. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife?
  KATHERINA. They sit conferring by the parlour fire.
  PETRUCHIO. 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 KATHERINA
  LUCENTIO. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.
  HORTENSIO. And so it is. I wonder what it bodes.
  PETRUCHIO. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life,
    An awful rule, and right supremacy;
    And, to be short, what not that's sweet and happy.
  BAPTISTA. 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.
  PETRUCHIO. Nay, I will win my wager better yet,
    And show more sign of her obedience,
    Her new-built virtue and obedience.

                 Re-enter KATHERINA with BIANCA and WIDOW

    See where she comes, and brings your froward wives
    As prisoners to her womanly persuasion.
    Katherine, that cap of yours becomes you not:
    Off with that bauble, throw it underfoot.
                                            [KATHERINA complies]
  WIDOW. Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh
    Till I be brought to such a silly pass!
  BIANCA. Fie! what a foolish duty call you this?
  LUCENTIO. I would your duty were as foolish too;
    The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca,
    Hath cost me a hundred crowns since supper-time!
  BIANCA. The more fool you for laying on my duty.
  PETRUCHIO. Katherine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong
women
    What duty they do owe their lords and husbands.
  WIDOW. Come, come, you're mocking; we will have no telling.
  PETRUCHIO. Come on, I say; and first begin with her.
  WIDOW. She shall not.
  PETRUCHIO. I say she shall. And first begin with her.
  KATHERINA. Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow,
    And dart not scornful glances from those eyes
    To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor.
    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
    But love, fair looks, and true obedience-
    Too little payment for so great a debt.
    Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
    Even such a woman oweth to her husband;
    And when she is 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 forward and unable worms!
    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 are.
    Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
    And place your hands below your husband's foot;
    In token of which duty, if he please,
    My hand is ready, may it do him ease.
  PETRUCHIO. Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.
  LUCENTIO. Well, go thy ways, old lad, for thou shalt ha't.
  VINCENTIO. 'Tis a good hearing when children are toward.
  LUCENTIO. But a harsh hearing when women are froward.
  PETRUCHIO. 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 KATHERINA
  HORTENSIO. Now go thy ways; thou hast tam'd a curst shrow.
  LUCENTIO. 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tam'd so.
                                                          Exeunt

THE END

Lucentio welcomes his guests to the wedding banquet and everybody hangs out and shoots the breeze, which involves a lot of trash talk, of course. Petruchio says Hortensio is afraid of his wife, the Widow, so the Widow chimes in and says Petruchio is crazy--he's the one who is afraid of his wife, Kate. Kate confronts the Widow but doesn't shrew out and pull her hair or anything. Seeing his wife in a verbal smack-down with another woman gets Petruchio excited--he cheers on Kate like he's at a bear baiting. When the women leave the room, the guys continue their little contest. Petruchio bets Hortensio and Lucentio twenty crowns that his wife is the most obedient. The fellas say they'll take that bet and they send a servant to fetch their wives. Lucentio and then Hortensio look like chumps when Bianca and then the Widow say they're too busy to stop what they're doing for their husbands. When Petruchio sends for Kate, she comes a-runnin' and asks Petruchio how she can serve him. Petruchio orders Kate to fetch the other wives and, to everyone's surprise, she does. Baptista is shocked. He says he doesn't recognize his own daughter, so he's going to give Petruchio another dowry since it seems like Petruchio has married a new and completely different woman. Petruchio goes on showing off and tells Kate to take off her ugly hat. Kate throws her hat on the ground. When Petruchio tells Kate to put the unruly wives in their proper places, Kate does that, too. She delivers the longest speech in play, which is all about how men are like kings and women are like their subjects - women should obey a man's every command. She also says husbands work hard to protect their wives, so women should be obedient. Bianca and the Widow, she says, are a disgrace to wives everywhere. Then, Kate kneels down and fondles Petruchio's feet while saying something like "You're the king, baby." Petruchio kisses Kate and says let's go to bed, baby. Then, he turns to the other men and brags that he's the man--he's landed a rich, obedient wife, and he just took an easy 200 crowns from a couple of suckas. Kate and Petruchio run off to bed, presumably, to make love and then live happily ever after . The wedding guests stand around with their mouths hanging open.

Tranio, disguised as Lucentio, and the Pedant, disguised as Lucentio's father Vincentio, have come to see Baptista Minola about the dower. When the Pedant speaks with Baptista, he eloquently confirms the dower's availability. Tranio, delighted the plan is working so well, quickly suggests all parties involved draw up the binding agreements straightway. Tranio also suggests sending Cambio to tell Bianca the news. Cambio re-enters as the stage clears, and Biondello informs him of Tranio's plan to arrange a fake wedding so Lucentio can marry Bianca himself for real. In light of this new arrangement, Cambio hurries off to inform Bianca they are to be wed that very night.

As with other small scenes of the subplot, this one contains little action but does advance the play in a few crucial ways. First it helps to indicate the passing of time, a necessity if we are to believe the action of the primary plot. Further, we need to see the importance of the disguised father so that we can be prepared for the play's resolution. This scene also reinforces how much marriage is a matter of economics. Baptista has, in effect, sold his youngest and most beloved daughter to the highest bidder. The joke is on him, of course, since in being so concerned with money he has been duped by a servant and an old man who haven't much money between the two of them together. In Baptista's greed, he seems to have worked his daughter right out of a suitable husband . All Tranio had to do was give the appearance of being a gentleman, and he was afforded every advantage a gentleman should have, even beating out the competition by invention of a make-believe fortune. Likewise, the Pedant's ability successfully to fool Baptista projects interesting light on the socially accepted concept that people of rank were distinguished by their birth. As we see in Shakespeare, time and time again, such is not always the case. Shakespeare, in fact, often uses his disguises to show the foolishness of the nobility who insist on taking people at face value and who are certain gentlefolk are different from commoners. As we see here, given the proper disguise, landed gentry have a hard time discerning who is authentic and who is an imposter. In addition, Tranio's presence in the scene reinforces the economic side of marriage. When Baptista is quick to agree to put the marital negotiations in writing , he shows his primary concern is a legal one. In fact, Baptista's preoccupation places him in an almost pathetic light. When he innocently offers comments such as sending Cambio to tell Bianca "how she's like to be Lucentio's wife" , we cannot help but laugh at his foolishness. Bianca, of course, will become Lucentio's wife -- but not in the way Baptista thinks. Glossary "hold your own"  "play your part." right  genuine, real. tall  fine. "set your countenance"  "put on the expression of an austere father." "with one consent"  unanimously. curious  unnecessarily inquisitive; prying. lie  lodge. pass  transact. slender pittance  scanty banquet. counterfeit assurance  pretend wedding. "cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum" "with exclusive printing rights." "against you come"  "in anticipation of your arrival." roundly  vigorously, bluntly, severely, etc.


INDUCTION. SCENE I.
                  Before an alehouse on a heath

                      Enter HOSTESS and SLY

  SLY. I'll pheeze you, in faith.
  HOSTESS. A pair of stocks, you rogue!
  SLY. Y'are a baggage; the Slys are no rogues. Look in the
    chronicles: we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore,
paucas
    pallabris; let the world slide. Sessa!
  HOSTESS. You will not pay for the glasses you have burst?
  SLY. No, not a denier. Go by, Saint Jeronimy, go to thy cold
bed
    and warm thee.
  HOSTESS. I know my remedy; I must go fetch the third-borough.
 Exit
  SLY. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by
law.
    I'll not budge an inch, boy; let him come, and kindly.
                                                  [Falls asleep]

       Wind horns. Enter a LORD from hunting, with his train

  LORD. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds;
    Brach Merriman, the poor cur, is emboss'd;
    And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd brach.
    Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
    At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault?
    I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
  FIRST HUNTSMAN. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;
    He cried upon it at the merest loss,
    And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent;
    Trust me, I take him for the better dog.
  LORD. Thou art a fool; if Echo were as fleet,
    I would esteem him worth a dozen such.
    But sup them well, and look unto them all;
    To-morrow I intend to hunt again.
  FIRST HUNTSMAN. I will, my lord.
  LORD. What's here? One dead, or drunk?
    See, doth he breathe?
  SECOND HUNTSMAN. He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd with
ale,
    This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly.
  LORD. O monstrous beast, how like a swine he lies!
    Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image!
    Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.
    What think you, if he were convey'd to bed,
    Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers,
    A most delicious banquet by his bed,
    And brave attendants near him when he wakes,
    Would not the beggar then forget himself?
  FIRST HUNTSMAN. Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose.
  SECOND HUNTSMAN. It would seem strange unto him when he wak'd.
  LORD. Even as a flatt'ring dream or worthless fancy.
    Then take him up, and manage well the jest:
    Carry him gently to my fairest chamber,
    And hang it round with all my wanton pictures;
    Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters,
    And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet;
    Procure me music ready when he wakes,
    To make a dulcet and a heavenly sound;
    And if he chance to speak, be ready straight,
    And with a low submissive reverence
    Say 'What is it your honour will command?'
    Let one attend him with a silver basin
    Full of rose-water and bestrew'd with flowers;
    Another bear the ewer, the third a diaper,
    And say 'Will't please your lordship cool your hands?'
    Some one be ready with a costly suit,
    And ask him what apparel he will wear;
    Another tell him of his hounds and horse,
    And that his lady mourns at his disease;
    Persuade him that he hath been lunatic,
    And, when he says he is, say that he dreams,
    For he is nothing but a mighty lord.
    This do, and do it kindly, gentle sirs;
    It will be pastime passing excellent,
    If it be husbanded with modesty.
  FIRST HUNTSMAN. My lord, I warrant you we will play our part
    As he shall think by our true diligence
    He is no less than what we say he is.
  LORD. Take him up gently, and to bed with him;
    And each one to his office when he wakes.
                          [SLY is carried out. A trumpet sounds]
    Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds-
                                                    Exit SERVANT
    Belike some noble gentleman that means,
    Travelling some journey, to repose him here.

                         Re-enter a SERVINGMAN

    How now! who is it?
  SERVANT. An't please your honour, players
    That offer service to your lordship.
  LORD. Bid them come near.

                             Enter PLAYERS

    Now, fellows, you are welcome.
  PLAYERS. We thank your honour.
  LORD. Do you intend to stay with me to-night?
  PLAYER. So please your lordship to accept our duty.
  LORD. With all my heart. This fellow I remember
    Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son;
    'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well.
    I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part
    Was aptly fitted and naturally perform'd.
  PLAYER. I think 'twas Soto that your honour means.
  LORD. 'Tis very true; thou didst it excellent.
    Well, you are come to me in happy time,
    The rather for I have some sport in hand
    Wherein your cunning can assist me much.
    There is a lord will hear you play to-night;
    But I am doubtful of your modesties,
    Lest, over-eying of his odd behaviour,
    For yet his honour never heard a play,
    You break into some merry passion
    And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs,
    If you should smile, he grows impatient.
  PLAYER. Fear not, my lord; we can contain ourselves,
    Were he the veriest antic in the world.
  LORD. Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery,
    And give them friendly welcome every one;
    Let them want nothing that my house affords.
                                       Exit one with the PLAYERS
    Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page,
    And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady;
    That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber,
    And call him 'madam,' do him obeisance.
    Tell him from me- as he will win my love-
    He bear himself with honourable action,
    Such as he hath observ'd in noble ladies
    Unto their lords, by them accomplished;
    Such duty to the drunkard let him do,
    With soft low tongue and lowly courtesy,
    And say 'What is't your honour will command,
    Wherein your lady and your humble wife
    May show her duty and make known her love?'
    And then with kind embracements, tempting kisses,
    And with declining head into his bosom,
    Bid him shed tears, as being overjoyed
    To see her noble lord restor'd to health,
    Who for this seven years hath esteemed him
    No better than a poor and loathsome beggar.
    And if the boy have not a woman's gift
    To rain a shower of commanded tears,
    An onion will do well for such a shift,
    Which, in a napkin being close convey'd,
    Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
    See this dispatch'd with all the haste thou canst;
    Anon I'll give thee more instructions.     Exit a SERVINGMAN
    I know the boy will well usurp the grace,
    Voice, gait, and action, of a gentlewoman;
    I long to hear him call the drunkard 'husband';
    And how my men will stay themselves from laughter
    When they do homage to this simple peasant.
    I'll in to counsel them; haply my presence
    May well abate the over-merry spleen,
    Which otherwise would grow into extremes.             Exeunt

SC_2

Induction I Outside an alehouse somewhere in the English countryside, a drunk beggar named Christopher Sly argues with the Hostess over some glassware he has broken in his inebriated clumsiness. While the Hostess leaves to find the local authorities, Sly passes out, and soon a lord returning from the hunt discovers him. This lord decides to have a bit of fun with the sleeping beggar and orders his servants to take Sly back to his house and treat him as if he were a lord--to put him in a bed, place rings on his fingers, set a banquet for him, and so on. His huntsmen agree that doing so would be an excellent jest, and they bear Sly offstage. A troupe of players arrives, seeking to offer the lord their services. The lord welcomes them to spend the night at his home, but he warns them that they must not laugh at the strange behavior of the other lord for whom they will perform. Then the lord tells his serviceman to go to Bartholomew, the lord's pageboy, and instruct him to put on the attire of a lady and play the part of Sly's wife. The lord wants the disguised Bartholomew to pretend to be overjoyed to see that Sly has recovered from his insanity and to say that Sly has madly insisted that he is a poor beggar for the past seven years. Induction I - Induction II Back at the house, the servants place Sly in the lord's bed with fine clothes and jewelry, and the lord outfits himself as one of the servants. When Sly awakes, they present him with good wine and food and tell him that he is their master. He protests that he remembers being a poor tinker , and they explain that this memory is but the result of a madness from which he has suffered for fifteen years. They put on quite a show, pleading and wailing in feigned distress at his continued illness, but Sly remains skeptical. However, when his "wife" is mentioned, Sly is finally convinced. Overjoyed that their master's memory has returned, the servants try to entertain him. Sly attempts to dismiss the servants so that he can sleep with his wife , but his wife explains apologetically that his physicians have ordered her to stay out of his bed for another night or two, lest his madness return. The players arrive to perform for the enjoyment of Sly and his wife. The play that they perform constitutes the rest of The Taming of the Shrew. Induction II -

The Induction is an unusual feature of this play. None of Shakespeare's other plays begins with a framing story, in which a full five-act play is performed within another play. The story and the characters involved in the Induction have nothing directly to do with the main play, and after its introduction this story is only reintroduced briefly and never fully developed. Another play from the mid-1590s, however, entitled The Taming of a Shrew and probably based on Shakespeare's work, features Sly's commentary throughout the main story. At the end of the main story, Sly declares his intention to tame his own wife as Petruchio has tamed Katherine. Critics disagree about why Shakespeare begins The Taming of the Shrew with the Induction. The play proper could obviously stand on its own, but the story of the lord's practical joke on Christopher Sly does reinforce one of the central themes of the main play. Sly's story dramatizes the idea that a person's environment and the way he or she is treated by others determines his or her behavior--an idea that Katherine's story in the main play also illustrates. The lord thrusts Sly into a playacting world and portrays his new role as coming into being through no will of his own. The lord's huntsman emphasizes this when asked if Sly would fall for the deception and forget himself. "Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose," he responds . The huntsman's words could apply equally well to Katherine. Controlled by two wealthy and powerful men--her father, Baptista, and her suitor, Petruchio--Katherine is forced to play the part of a wife, a social role that she initially rejects. The implication that Katherine, like Sly, "cannot choose" suggests that she is as much a plaything of Petruchio as Sly is of the lord. The Induction also introduces the topic of marriage into the play. Sly resists all the servants' attempts to convince him that he is a lord until they tell him that he has a wife, at which point he immediately reverses himself: "Am I a lord? And have I such a lady?" . Shakespeare emphasizes Sly's about-face by switching Sly's speech pattern to blank verse . Before, Sly had spoken only in prose. The humor of the situation is obvious: though Sly is at first preoccupied with making sense of his outrageous change of circumstances, as soon as he discovers that he might be able to be physically gratified, he immediately stops caring whether his situation is real or fantastical, commanding his wife to "undress you and come now to bed" . Shakespeare here playfully introduces a number of ideas that receive further attention later in the play, such as the idea that marriage is something that people use for their own benefit rather than a reflection of some deeper truth about the married couple. Moreover, the roles of class, gender, and marital status, which in ordinary life seem to be set in stone, here become matters of appearance and perception, subject to manipulation by the characters or the playwright. Indeed, the Induction primes Shakespeare's audience to think critically about what he will present next.


ACT I. SCENE I.
Padua. A public place

Enter LUCENTIO and his man TRANIO

  LUCENTIO. Tranio, since for the great desire I had
    To see fair Padua, nursery of arts,
    I am arriv'd for fruitful Lombardy,
    The pleasant garden of great Italy,
    And by my father's love and leave am arm'd
    With his good will and thy good company,
    My trusty servant well approv'd in all,
    Here let us breathe, and haply institute
    A course of learning and ingenious studies.
    Pisa, renowned for grave citizens,
    Gave me my being and my father first,
    A merchant of great traffic through the world,
    Vincentio, come of the Bentivolii;
    Vincentio's son, brought up in Florence,
    It shall become to serve all hopes conceiv'd,
    To deck his fortune with his virtuous deeds.
    And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study,
    Virtue and that part of philosophy
    Will I apply that treats of happiness
    By virtue specially to be achiev'd.
    Tell me thy mind; for I have Pisa left
    And am to Padua come as he that leaves
    A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep,
    And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst.
  TRANIO. Mi perdonato, gentle master mine;
    I am in all affected as yourself;
    Glad that you thus continue your resolve
    To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy.
    Only, good master, while we do admire
    This virtue and this moral discipline,
    Let's be no Stoics nor no stocks, I pray,
    Or so devote to Aristotle's checks
    As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd.
    Balk logic with acquaintance that you have,
    And practise rhetoric in your common talk;
    Music and poesy use to quicken you;
    The mathematics and the metaphysics,
    Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you.
    No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en;
    In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
  LUCENTIO. Gramercies, Tranio, well dost thou advise.
    If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore,
    We could at once put us in readiness,
    And take a lodging fit to entertain
    Such friends as time in Padua shall beget.

      Enter BAPTISTA with his two daughters, KATHERINA
        and BIANCA; GREMIO, a pantaloon; HORTENSIO,
        suitor to BIANCA. LUCENTIO and TRANIO stand by

    But stay awhile; what company is this?
  TRANIO. Master, some show to welcome us to town.
  BAPTISTA. Gentlemen, importune me no farther,
    For how I firmly am resolv'd you know;
    That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter
    Before I have a husband for the elder.
    If either of you both love Katherina,
    Because I know you well and love you well,
    Leave shall you have to court her at your pleasure.
  GREMIO. To cart her rather. She's too rough for me.
    There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife?
  KATHERINA.  [To BAPTISTA]  I pray you, sir, is it your will
    To make a stale of me amongst these mates?
  HORTENSIO. Mates, maid! How mean you that? No mates for you,
    Unless you were of gentler, milder mould.
  KATHERINA. I' faith, sir, you shall never need to fear;
    Iwis it is not halfway to her heart;
    But if it were, doubt not her care should be
    To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool,
    And paint your face, and use you like a fool.
  HORTENSIO. From all such devils, good Lord deliver us!
  GREMIO. And me, too, good Lord!
  TRANIO. Husht, master! Here's some good pastime toward;
    That wench is stark mad or wonderful froward.
  LUCENTIO. But in the other's silence do I see
    Maid's mild behaviour and sobriety.
    Peace, Tranio!
  TRANIO. Well said, master; mum! and gaze your fill.
  BAPTISTA. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good
    What I have said- Bianca, get you in;
    And let it not displease thee, good Bianca,
    For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl.
  KATHERINA. A pretty peat! it is best
    Put finger in the eye, an she knew why.
  BIANCA. Sister, content you in my discontent.
    Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe;
    My books and instruments shall be my company,
    On them to look, and practise by myself.
  LUCENTIO. Hark, Tranio, thou mayst hear Minerva speak!
  HORTENSIO. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange?
    Sorry am I that our good will effects
    Bianca's grief.
  GREMIO. Why will you mew her up,
    Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,
    And make her bear the penance of her tongue?
  BAPTISTA. Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolv'd.
    Go in, Bianca.                                   Exit BIANCA
    And for I know she taketh most delight
    In music, instruments, and poetry,
    Schoolmasters will I keep within my house
    Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio,
    Or, Signior Gremio, you, know any such,
    Prefer them hither; for to cunning men
    I will be very kind, and liberal
    To mine own children in good bringing-up;
    And so, farewell. Katherina, you may stay;
    For I have more to commune with Bianca.                 Exit
  KATHERINA. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not?
    What! shall I be appointed hours, as though, belike,
    I knew not what to take and what to leave? Ha!          Exit
  GREMIO. You may go to the devil's dam; your gifts are so good
    here's none will hold you. There! Love is not so great,
    Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together, and fast it
fairly
    out; our cake's dough on both sides. Farewell; yet, for the
love
    I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit
man
    to teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to
her
    father.
  HORTENSIO. So Will I, Signior Gremio; but a word, I pray.
Though
    the nature of our quarrel yet never brook'd parle, know now,
upon
    advice, it toucheth us both- that we may yet again have
access to
    our fair mistress, and be happy rivals in Bianca's love- to
    labour and effect one thing specially.
  GREMIO. What's that, I pray?
  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 sense-
    I 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]

A young man named Lucentio arrives in Padua with his manservant, Tranio. Lucentio was educated in Pisa and Florence and has come to Padua to further his studies at its famous university. As he announces to Tranio, he is young and eager to learn new things. Tranio pleads that they should not forget the pleasures of life in their academic pursuits. The noisy entrance of a crowd interrupts their discussion. The crowd is composed of Baptista Minola; his daughters, Katherine and Bianca; and Bianca's two suitors, older men named Hortensio and Gremio. Most of the noise comes from Katherine, who seems to be caught up in a rage, screaming and cursing at everyone present. When Baptista informs the suitors that they are free to court Katherine, but that he will not allow Bianca to marry before Katherine does, they respond that no one would ever marry a devil like her. Katherine threatens them with violence in return. Amid all the noise, though, Lucentio takes particular notice of Bianca, who behaves much more mildly than her sister. After Baptista leaves with his daughters, Hortensio and Gremio agree that they have but one option: to look for someone to wed Katherine. However, they are not optimistic about their chances of finding a willing man. In the meantime, they say, they will also look for a schoolmaster for Bianca--Baptista had mentioned that he was looking for one, and they hope to earn favor with Bianca's father by helping him. The old men walk away, and Lucentio gushes to Tranio that he has fallen in love with Bianca and is determined to court her. Knowing that he cannot do so publicly, given Baptista's forbiddance, he resolves to woo her in secret. He suddenly recalls that Hortensio and Gremio mentioned procuring a schoolmaster, and he decides to disguise himself as a teacher in the hope that by tutoring Bianca he will be able to declare his love for her and win her heart. Tranio, for his part, will pretend to be Lucentio and study at the university. Biondello, Lucentio's other servant, arrives in a timely fashion and agrees to help with the deception. At this point, the main story--which is being presented as a play for Christopher Sly--fades for a moment, and Sly reemerges. He declares briefly that he is enjoying this entertainment, but he implies that he would prefer to be left alone with his wife.

Shakespeare wastes no time in establishing who is the "shrew" of the play's title. Within a few lines, the first scene introduces the public perception of Katherine as hateful and sharp-tongued, characteristics considered hallmarks of the shrew in Shakespeare's time. In their disparaging rejections of Katherine, Hortensio and Gremio specify what they dislike about her: she is "too rough" , and they want mates "of gentler, milder mould" . After watching Katherine for only a few seconds, Tranio remarks, "That wench is stark mad," indicating just how far Katherine's behavior diverges from the norm . Throughout the play, the characters contrast their ideas of the "shrew" with their differing ideas of the "ideal wife." Here, we see that the two suitors value a mild disposition in a wife, and thus they greatly prefer Bianca to Katherine, despite the ladies' comparable dowries. The indignant denunciation of Katherine by Hortensio and Gremio illustrates the social biases and assumptions that Shakespeare intends to humorously explore throughout the play, specifically, society's expectations concerning a woman's role in a marriage. Hortensio and Gremio represent the then-conventional view that a woman should sacrifice her individuality in submission to her husband. Certainly, this expectation plays a part in their decision to prefer the mild, submissive Bianca to the fiery Katherine. Katherine's temperament threatens to upset the accepted order, in which the wife bows to the authority of the husband. Shakespeare poses the basic thematic question of the play in the very first scene: does a happy and stable marriage depend upon a woman's sacrifice of her own will? Such a sacrifice seems to be unacceptable to Katherine, who vociferously defends her independence: "What, shall I be appointed hours, as though belike I knew not what to take and what to leave? Ha!" . Most people in Shakespeare's society believed that the woman should submit to her husband, and yet they did not necessarily expect the wife to sacrifice all of her independence and sense of self. Likewise, we should not be too hasty to accuse Hortensio and Gremio of outright misogyny at this point in the play. Judging from the dialogue thus far, their dislike of Katherine may seem a natural reaction to Katherine's behavior. The qualities she first presents are a violent temper, jealousy in the face of Bianca's preferential treatment, and disrespect for her father. On the other hand, like the other male characters in the play, Hortensio and Gremio do adopt a very patronizing attitude toward Katherine. They speak about her in the third person rather than addressing her directly--perhaps because they are simply terrified of what she would say back to them if they addressed their words to her. If we compare Katherine to the heroines of Shakespeare's later comedies, such as Rosalind in As You Like It, Portia in The Merchant of Venice, Viola in Twelfth Night, or Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing, Katherine's situation appears extremely anomalous. All of those later heroines are outspoken and independent, and the happy resolution of those plays depends upon whether or not the male characters listen to what the heroines say. Katherine's rage reflects her struggle to be recognized as a person rather than treated as a pet or an object. The subplot between Lucentio and Bianca also shows subtle signs of objectifying women. While the romance between these two young lovers will seem a sweet and beautiful thing compared to the violent struggle between Petruchio and Katherine, Lucentio does not necessarily view Bianca as his equal. On the contrary, he sees her mostly as a prize to be won: "I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio / If I achieve not this young modest girl" . If Bianca merely represents something for Lucentio to "achieve," then his view of her lacks depth. Lucentio has fallen in love with her appearance, and Tranio remarks that Lucentio has looked so persistently at the pretty Bianca that he has missed the main point of the situation.


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 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 think
scolding
    would do little good upon him. She may perhaps call him half
a
    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 she
stand
    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, how
the
    young folks lay their heads together! Master, master, look
about
    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 farmer'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 you
mean?
  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

A brash young man named Petruchio, newly arrived in Padua, goes with his servant Grumio to see Hortensio, whom he knows from Verona. Grumio and Petruchio become embroiled in a comic misunderstanding at the door, but eventually Hortensio comes down to greet Petruchio and ask why he is in Padua. Petruchio responds that, upon his father's death, he set out to look for a wife, hoping to marry a rich man's daughter and thereby augment his family fortune. Hortensio, determined to find a potential suitor for Katherine so that he himself may marry Bianca, recognizes his opportunity and decides to convince Petruchio to marry the shrew. Being a friend, he first tries to offer a warning about her, but Petruchio does not care about her behavior. He pays attention to one thing only--the fact that she has a rich father. Full of confidence, he tells Hortensio to lead him to the shrew. Hortensio, for his part, plans to disguise himself as a schoolmaster so that he can court Bianca secretly. Gremio and Lucentio enter on their way to Baptista's house, interrupting Hortensio and Petruchio. Lucentio has already disguised himself as a schoolmaster and has presented himself to Gremio, who gladly agrees to have him tutor Bianca. Gremio brags to Hortensio that he has found a schoolmaster for Bianca, unaware of the fact that Lucentio will be courting the girl himself. Hortensio then tells Gremio the good news--that Petruchio wishes to woo Katherine. Gremio can hardly believe it, but Petruchio confidently claims that he will be victorious. At this point, Tranio enters, disguised as Lucentio, with Biondello as his servant. He very conspicuously asks the suitors to direct him to the house of Baptista Minola, vaguely implying that he might be interested in one of the women there. Hortensio and Gremio have a hard time restraining their anger, for now there will be three competing suitors for Bianca. Lucentio, of course, has arranged for Tranio to make this entrance in order to distract Hortensio and Gremio and give him more time for his own wooing. Tranio persuades the suitors that they can all be friends while they compete for Bianca, and he wins their good graces by offering to buy them a drink. The whole company considers this an excellent suggestion, and they all depart together.

Analysis : Act I, scene ii The reader is bombarded in the first half of the scene by Petruchio's overbearing personality. Several character traits rapidly reveal themselves: he is quick to anger but also quick to laugh, as he displays in his frequent quarreling with his servant Grumio. He has a coarse personality, but he is educated well enough to spout classical references and has a quick wit. Also, he loves money above all else, which explains his enthusiasm for courting Katherine. As Grumio remarks, if given enough gold, Petruchio would happily marry a puppet, a clothing ornament, or a toothless hag with venereal diseases. These are superficial motives, to be sure, but Petruchio proclaims them proudly, and Shakespeare uses his proclamations to introduce another dimension to the play's exploration of marriage: the idea that marriage is essentially an economic activity, intended to consolidate fortunes and facilitate the distribution of inheritances. Petruchio, having been left some money by his own father, knows that he can strike it rich if he allows himself to be "bought" as a husband. Money is not Petruchio's only driving force. As more characters warn him about Katherine's harsh tongue, he begins to view wedding her as a challenge rather than simply a moneymaking opportunity. Living with the shrew, he says, could not possibly be worse than enduring the hardships of war or the sea. Gremio says that subduing Kate would be a heroic challenge, comparing the task to one of the labors of Hercules, even as he discourages Petruchio from undertaking it. In their minds, Katherine has apparently transformed from an insubordinate woman into either a monster in need of subjugation or a tempest that has to be withstood. In fact, they give her the title "Katherine the curst" . The more the men talk about her, the worse the report of her behavior becomes. In her absence, Katherine's situation becomes a bit clearer. People talk about her more than they listen to her, and the more people gossip about her, the more they dislike her. She wields her tongue to defend herself in the only way she can, but this only earns her greater disrepute. After all, in the earlier scene between Katherine and the two suitors, Katherine becomes angry after Gremio insults her, although we do not know what transpired before their entrance onstage. At any rate, this scene clarifies the general bias of the men and elicits some sympathy for Katherine. In many ways, the men are more interested in competing in tests of machismo and going to the pub than they are in the thoughts or feelings of the women whom they wish to woo.


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

Enter LUCENTIO as CAMBIO, HORTENSIO as LICIO, and BIANCA

  LUCENTIO. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir.
    Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
    Her sister Katherine welcome'd you withal?
  HORTENSIO. But, wrangling pedant, this is
    The patroness of heavenly harmony.
    Then give me leave to have prerogative;
    And when in music we have spent an hour,
    Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.
  LUCENTIO. Preposterous ass, that never read so far
    To know the cause why music was ordain'd!
    Was it not to refresh the mind of man
    After his studies or his usual pain?
    Then give me leave to read philosophy,
    And while I pause serve in your harmony.
  HORTENSIO. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.
  BIANCA. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong
    To strive for that which resteth in my choice.
    I am no breeching scholar in the schools,
    I'll not be tied to hours nor 'pointed times,
    But learn my lessons as I please myself.
    And to cut off all strife: here sit we down;
    Take you your instrument, play you the whiles!
    His lecture will be done ere you have tun'd.
  HORTENSIO. You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune?
  LUCENTIO. That will be never- tune your instrument.
  BIANCA. Where left we last?
  LUCENTIO. Here, madam:
    'Hic ibat Simois, hic est Sigeia tellus,
    Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.'
  BIANCA. Construe them.
  LUCENTIO. 'Hic ibat' as I told you before- 'Simois' I am
Lucentio-
    'hic est' son unto Vincentio of Pisa- 'Sigeia tellus'
disguised
    thus to get your love- 'Hic steterat' and that Lucentio that
    comes a-wooing- 'Priami' is my man Tranio- 'regia' bearing my
    port- 'celsa senis' that we might beguile the old pantaloon.
  HORTENSIO. Madam, my instrument's in tune.
  BIANCA. Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars.
  LUCENTIO. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.
  BIANCA. Now let me see if I can construe it: 'Hic ibat Simois'
I
    know you not- 'hic est Sigeia tellus' I trust you not- 'Hic
    steterat Priami' take heed he hear us not- 'regia' presume
not-
   'celsa senis' despair not.
  HORTENSIO. Madam, 'tis now in tune.
  LUCENTIO. All but the bass.
  HORTENSIO. The bass is right; 'tis the base knave that jars.
    [Aside]  How fiery and forward our pedant is!
    Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love.
    Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet.
  BIANCA. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.
  LUCENTIO. Mistrust it not- for sure, AEacides
    Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather.
  BIANCA. I must believe my master; else, I promise you,
    I should be arguing still upon that doubt;
    But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you.
    Good master, take it not unkindly, pray,
    That I have been thus pleasant with you both.
  HORTENSIO.  [To LUCENTIO]  You may go walk and give me leave
      awhile;
    My lessons make no music in three Parts.
  LUCENTIO. Are you so formal, sir? Well, I must wait,
    [Aside]  And watch withal; for, but I be deceiv'd,
    Our fine musician groweth amorous.
  HORTENSIO. Madam, before you touch the instrument
    To learn the order of my fingering,
    I must begin with rudiments of art,
    To teach you gamut in a briefer sort,
    More pleasant, pithy, and effectual,
    Than hath been taught by any of my trade;
    And there it is in writing fairly drawn.
  BIANCA. Why, I am past my gamut long ago.
  HORTENSIO. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.
  BIANCA.  [Reads]
         '"Gamut" I am, the ground of all accord-
         "A re" to plead Hortensio's passion-
         "B mi" Bianca, take him for thy lord-
         "C fa ut" that loves with all affection-
         "D sol re" one clef, two notes have I-
         "E la mi" show pity or I die.'
    Call you this gamut? Tut, I like it not!
    Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice
    To change true rules for odd inventions.

                       Enter a SERVANT

  SERVANT. Mistress, your father prays you leave your books
    And help to dress your sister's chamber up.
    You know to-morrow is the wedding-day.
  BIANCA. Farewell, sweet masters, both; I must be gone.
                                       Exeunt BIANCA and SERVANT
  LUCENTIO. Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay.
 Exit
  HORTENSIO. But I have cause to pry into this pedant;
    Methinks he looks as though he were in love.
    Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble
    To cast thy wand'ring eyes on every stale-
    Seize thee that list. If once I find thee ranging,
  HORTENSIO will be quit with thee by changing.             Exit

It is now Saturday, the day before Katherine is scheduled to wed Petruchio. Lucentio and Hortensio, in their respective disguises as Cambio and Litio, are "instructing" Bianca somewhere in Baptista's house, and the scene begins with the two of them battling for her exclusive attention. Bianca clearly has begun to form a preference, and she ends the dispute by declaring that she will hear her Latin lesson from Lucentio first, while Hortensio tunes his instrument. During the Latin lesson, with Hortensio out of hearing range, Lucentio conveys his true intentions to Bianca through a mock translation of a Latin paragraph. She replies to him, in the same way, that she distrusts him, and yet she does not hide the fact that she is taken with her young suitor. Hortensio tries to break in at intervals, but Bianca sends him off to tune again until she has finished her conversation with Lucentio. Lucentio concludes and Hortensio returns to try his own hand at wooing Bianca. He gives her a sheet with a "gamut," or scale, of notes on it, with romantic words cleverly inserted to indicate his true intention. Hortensio's words take a different tone, though. While Lucentio was confident and coy, Hortensio pleads almost pitifully: "show pity, or I die" . Bianca resists his attempt more directly, failing to give the playful glimmer of hope she afforded Lucentio. Before Hortensio can respond, a servant enters, calling upon Bianca to prepare for her sister's wedding the next day. Lucentio also leaves, and Hortensio, alone, considers the signals he received from Bianca. He sees clearly that Lucentio is infatuated with Bianca. But he does not yet know what her intentions are, and he suspects that his own chances might be slim. Preparing for the possibility of rejection, his former enthusiasm dwindles, and he tells himself that he will simply find another wife if Bianca proves unwilling.

Despite the unorthodox presence of the Induction and the story of Christopher Sly, the narrative form of The Taming of the Shrew is generally extremely straightforward. It follows the two plots initiated in Act I, scene i: the main plot, involving Katherine's wooing and marriage, and the subplot, involving Bianca's wooing and marriage. This scene offers a diversion from the main plot by turning to the subplot--the wooing of Bianca by her competing suitors. In Act III, scene i, the play continues to verbally excite as well as explore deeper aspects of love and marriage. Like the argument between Petruchio and Kate in the last scene, the exchange between Lucentio and Bianca displays Shakespeare's considerable skill with puns. It also subtly explores the idea of women in marriage again, this time by contrasting how Lucentio and Hortensio treat Bianca. The scene employs its fair share of humor. Lucentio's mock Latin lesson pokes fun at the fact that foreign languages are often more compact than English. He translates a ridiculously long English phrase from one or two Latin words: "'Simois,' I am Lucentio, 'hic est,' son unto Vincentio of Pisa," and so forth . Hortensio's wooing is just as clever. He uses the scale of notes and their syllable names to convey a series of puns: "B--mi--Bianca, take him for thy lord," with the play on "Be my Bianca," and so forth . The scene provides more than just clever comedy, however. It establishes the foundation, or perhaps the lack of foundation, of Lucentio and Bianca's love. In contrast to the previous oppositional scene between Petruchio and Kate, the courting here is much more effortless. Lucentio does not have to work as hard as Petruchio did. Bianca expresses some misgivings because she does not know Lucentio, but she makes it clear that she already prefers him to Hortensio. In many ways, it seems natural for two young, attractive, and sympathetic characters of the play to come together, but this quick and easy match has consequences later on.


SCENE II.
Padua. Before BAPTISTA'So house

Enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, TRANIO as LUCENTIO, KATHERINA, BIANCA,
LUCENTIO as CAMBIO, and ATTENDANTS

  BAPTISTA.  [To TRANIO]  Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed
day
    That Katherine and Petruchio should be married,
    And yet we hear not of our son-in-law.
    What will be said? What mockery will it be
    To want the bridegroom when the priest attends
    To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage!
    What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?
  KATHERINA. No shame but mine; I must, forsooth, be forc'd
    To give my hand, oppos'd against my heart,
    Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen,
    Who woo'd in haste and means to wed at leisure.
    I told you, I, he was a frantic fool,
    Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour;
    And, to be noted for a merry man,
    He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage,
    Make friends invited, and proclaim the banns;
    Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
    Now must the world point at poor Katherine,
    And say 'Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife,
    If it would please him come and marry her!'
  TRANIO. Patience, good Katherine, and Baptista too.
    Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
    Whatever fortune stays him from his word.
    Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise;
    Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.
  KATHERINA. Would Katherine had never seen him though!
                    Exit, weeping, followed by BIANCA and others
  BAPTISTA. Go, girl, I cannot blame thee now to weep,
    For such an injury would vex a very saint;
    Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.

                           Enter BIONDELLO

    Master, master! News, and such old news as you never heard
of!
  BAPTISTA. Is it new and old too? How may that be?
  BIONDELLO. Why, is it not news to hear of Petruchio's coming?
  BAPTISTA. Is he come?
  BIONDELLO. Why, no, sir.
  BAPTISTA. What then?
  BIONDELLO. He is coming.
  BAPTISTA. When will he be here?
  BIONDELLO. When he stands where I am and sees you there.
  TRANIO. But, say, what to thine old news?
  BIONDELLO. Why, Petruchio is coming- in a new hat and an old
    jerkin; a pair of old breeches thrice turn'd; a pair of boots
    that have been candle-cases, one buckled, another lac'd; an
old
    rusty sword ta'en out of the town armoury, with a broken
hilt,
    and chapeless; with two broken points; his horse hipp'd, with
an
    old motley saddle and stirrups of no kindred; besides,
possess'd
    with the glanders and like to mose in the chine, troubled
with
    the lampass, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls,
sped
    with spavins, rayed with the yellows, past cure of the fives,
    stark spoil'd with the staggers, begnawn with the bots,
sway'd in
    the back and shoulder-shotten, near-legg'd before, and with a
    half-cheek'd bit, and a head-stall of sheep's leather which,
    being restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been often
    burst, and now repaired with knots; one girth six times
piec'd,
    and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath two letters for
her
    name fairly set down in studs, and here and there piec'd with
    pack-thread.
  BAPTISTA. Who comes with him?
  BIONDELLO. O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparison'd
like
    the horse- with a linen stock on one leg and a kersey
boot-hose
    on the other, gart'red with a red and blue list; an old hat,
and
    the humour of forty fancies prick'd in't for a feather; a
    monster, a very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian
    footboy or a gentleman's lackey.
  TRANIO. 'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion;
    Yet oftentimes lie goes but mean-apparell'd.
  BAPTISTA. I am glad he's come, howsoe'er he comes.
  BIONDELLO. Why, sir, he comes not.
  BAPTISTA. Didst thou not say he comes?
  BIONDELLO. Who? that Petruchio came?
  BAPTISTA. Ay, that Petruchio came.
  BIONDELLO. No, sir; I say his horse comes with him on his back.
  BAPTISTA. Why, that's all one.
  BIONDELLO. Nay, by Saint Jamy,
             I hold you a penny,
             A horse and a man
             Is more than one,
             And yet not many.

                  Enter PETRUCHIO and GRUMIO

  PETRUCHIO. Come, where be these gallants? Who's at home?
  BAPTISTA. You are welcome, sir.
  PETRUCHIO. And yet I come not well.
  BAPTISTA. And yet you halt not.
  TRANIO. Not so well apparell'd
    As I wish you were.
  PETRUCHIO. Were it better, I should rush in thus.
    But where is Kate? Where is my lovely bride?
    How does my father? Gentles, methinks you frown;
    And wherefore gaze this goodly company
    As if they saw some wondrous monument,
    Some comet or unusual prodigy?
  BAPTISTA. Why, sir, you know this is your wedding-day.
    First were we sad, fearing you would not come;
    Now sadder, that you come so unprovided.
    Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate,
    An eye-sore to our solemn festival!
  TRANIO. And tell us what occasion of import
    Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife,
    And sent you hither so unlike yourself?
  PETRUCHIO. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear;
    Sufficeth I am come to keep my word,
    Though in some part enforced to digress,
    Which at more leisure I will so excuse
    As you shall well be satisfied withal.
    But where is Kate? I stay too long from her;
    The morning wears, 'tis time we were at church.
  TRANIO. See not your bride in these unreverent robes;
    Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine.
  PETRUCHIO. Not I, believe me; thus I'll visit her.
  BAPTISTA. But thus, I trust, you will not marry her.
  PETRUCHIO. Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha' done with
words;
    To me she's married, not unto my clothes.
    Could I repair what she will wear in me
    As I can change these poor accoutrements,
    'Twere well for Kate and better for myself.
    But what a fool am I to chat with you,
    When I should bid good-morrow to my bride
    And seal the title with a lovely kiss!
                                  Exeunt PETRUCHIO and PETRUCHIO
  TRANIO. He hath some meaning in his mad attire.
    We will persuade him, be it possible,
    To put on better ere he go to church.
  BAPTISTA. I'll after him and see the event of this.
              Exeunt BAPTISTA, GREMIO, BIONDELLO, and ATTENDENTS
  TRANIO. But to her love concerneth us to add
    Her father's liking; which to bring to pass,
    As I before imparted to your worship,
    I am to get a man- whate'er he be
    It skills not much; we'll fit him to our turn-
    And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa,
    And make assurance here in Padua
    Of greater sums than I have promised.
    So shall you quietly enjoy your hope
    And marry sweet Bianca with consent.
  LUCENTIO. Were it not that my fellow schoolmaster
    Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly,
    'Twere good, methinks, to steal our marriage;
    Which once perform'd, let all the world say no,
    I'll keep mine own despite of all the world.
  TRANIO. That by degrees we mean to look into
    And watch our vantage in this business;
    We'll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio,
    The narrow-prying father, Minola,
    The quaint musician, amorous Licio-
    All for my master's sake, Lucentio.

                           Re-enter GREMIO

    Signior Gremio, came you from the church?
  GREMIO. As willingly as e'er I came from school.
  TRANIO. And is the bride and bridegroom coming home?
  GREMIO. A bridegroom, say you? 'Tis a groom indeed,
    A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find.
  TRANIO. Curster than she? Why, 'tis impossible.
  GREMIO. Why, he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend.
  TRANIO. Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam.
  GREMIO. Tut, she's a lamb, a dove, a fool, to him!
    I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest
    Should ask if Katherine should be his wife,
    'Ay, by gogs-wouns' quoth he, and swore so loud
    That, all amaz'd, the priest let fall the book;
    And as he stoop'd again to take it up,
    This mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff
    That down fell priest and book, and book and priest.
    'Now take them up,' quoth he 'if any list.'
  TRANIO. What said the wench, when he rose again?
  GREMIO. Trembled and shook, for why he stamp'd and swore
    As if the vicar meant to cozen him.
    But after many ceremonies done
    He calls for wine: 'A health!' quoth he, as if
    He had been abroad, carousing to his mates
    After a storm; quaff'd off the muscadel,
    And threw the sops all in the sexton's face,
    Having no other reason
    But that his beard grew thin and hungerly
    And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking.
    This done, he took the bride about the neck,
    And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack
    That at the parting all the church did echo.
    And I, seeing this, came thence for very shame;
    And after me, I know, the rout is coming.
    Such a mad marriage never was before.
    Hark, hark! I hear the minstrels play.         [Music plays]

       Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, BIANCA, BAPTISTA, HORTENSIO,
                         GRUMIO, and train

  PETRUCHIO. Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains.
    I know you think to dine with me to-day,
    And have prepar'd great store of wedding cheer
    But so it is- my haste doth call me hence,
    And therefore here I mean to take my leave.
  BAPTISTA. Is't possible you will away to-night?
  PETRUCHIO. I must away to-day before night come.
    Make it no wonder; if you knew my business,
    You would entreat me rather go than stay.
    And, honest company, I thank you all
    That have beheld me give away myself
    To this most patient, sweet, and virtuous wife.
    Dine with my father, drink a health to me.
    For I must hence; and farewell to you all.
  TRANIO. Let us entreat you stay till after dinner.
  PETRUCHIO. It may not be.
  GREMIO. Let me entreat you.
  PETRUCHIO. It cannot be.
  KATHERINA. Let me entreat you.
  PETRUCHIO. I am content.
  KATHERINA. Are you content to stay?
  PETRUCHIO. I am content you shall entreat me stay;
    But yet not stay, entreat me how you can.
  KATHERINA. Now, if you love me, stay.
  PETRUCHIO. Grumio, my horse.
  GRUMIO. Ay, sir, they be ready; the oats have eaten the horses.
  KATHERINA. Nay, then,
    Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day;
    No, nor to-morrow, not till I please myself.
    The door is open, sir; there lies your way;
    You may be jogging whiles your boots are green;
    For me, I'll not be gone till I please myself.
    'Tis like you'll prove a jolly surly groom
    That take it on you at the first so roundly.
  PETRUCHIO. O Kate, content thee; prithee be not angry.
  KATHERINA. I will be angry; what hast thou to do?
    Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure.
  GREMIO. Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work.
  KATHERINA. Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner.
    I see a woman may be made a fool
    If she had not a spirit to resist.
  PETRUCHIO. They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command.
    Obey the bride, you that attend on her;
    Go to the feast, revel and domineer,
    Carouse full measure to her maidenhead;
    Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves.
    But for my bonny Kate, she must with me.
    Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret;
    I will be master of what is mine own-
    She is my goods, my chattels, she is my house,
    My household stuff, my field, my barn,
    My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing,
    And here she stands; touch her whoever dare;
    I'll bring mine action on the proudest he
    That stops my way in Padua. Grumio,
    Draw forth thy weapon; we are beset with thieves;
    Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man.
    Fear not, sweet wench; they shall not touch thee, Kate;
    I'll buckler thee against a million.
                         Exeunt PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, and GRUMIO
  BAPTISTA. Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones.
  GREMIO. Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing.
  TRANIO. Of all mad matches, never was the like.
  LUCENTIO. Mistress, what's your opinion of your sister?
  BIANCA. That, being mad herself, she's madly mated.
  GREMIO. I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated.
  BAPTISTA. Neighbours and friends, though bride and bridegroom
wants
    For to supply the places at the table,
    You know there wants no junkets at the feast.
    Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's place;
    And let Bianca take her sister's room.
  TRANIO. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it?
  BAPTISTA. She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, let's go.
                                                          Exeunt

On Sunday, outside Baptista's house, everyone has gathered for the wedding of Kate and Petruchio. The groom, however, is late, and Baptista has begun to worry. Kate frets that Petruchio habitually woos women only to leave them standing at the altar, and she runs off in tears. Just then, Biondello rushes in to announce that the groom is on his way, dressed in a ridiculous, mismatched, and shabby costume, riding up the street on an old, broken-down horse riddled with diseases. Grumio rides at his side, similarly attired. When Petruchio finally arrives, the crowd, horrified, sees that Biondello's description was accurate. Baptista begs him to change into a more fashionable outfit before marrying Kate, in order to avoid further public humiliation. Petruchio says he will do no such thing and rides off to find Kate at the church. Most of the crowd follows in a kind of horrified fascination

Act III, scenes ii-iii In this scene, Petruchio makes it clear that although he has won Kate's hand in marriage, his efforts to tame her are far from complete. Apparently, he has every intention of contradicting her will at every point, even after she has consented to marry him. Now we can see that he doesn't want just her dowry--he really wants a tamed wife. By embarrassing her with his ridiculous costume, crass behavior in the church, and their abrupt exit, he robs her of her dignity even as he overcomes her resistance. He almost seems to mock the fact that she has allowed herself to be wed, making her wish that she could retract the decision. She laments, "I must forsooth be forced / To give my hand opposed against my heart" . This scene raises the question of whether Kate, like Sly, has any agency in her situation. It returns to the theme of authority in marriage and to the foreshadowing exhibited during the play's Induction. Kate's proven capability of standing up to her father and the other suitors, through words and even violence if necessary, does not manifest itself here with Petruchio. Surely, if she did not wish to marry Petruchio, she would have found a way to resist--she could simply have refused to go to the church or to take the vows once there. Even when she does offer resistance--for instance, when Petruchio demands that they leave immediately after the wedding--she does not respond with the same vigor. Kate does exert some agency by choosing not to fight, but she appears to make this choice because she is cowed by Petruchio's unyielding stance. Thus, if Kate is powerless to stop the actions of others upon her, just as Sly is, then it seems that there will be little equality in this marriage. Petruchio completely subjugates Kate's will. Indeed, Petruchio speaks his most misogynistic lines of the play in this scene as he prepares to pull Kate away from the marriage feast: "She is my goods, my chattels. She is my house, / My household-stuff, my field, my barn, / My horse, my ox, my ass, my anything" . Petruchio's words are not, however, spoken in all seriousness. First, they are not his original thoughts--they are a list of a man's possessions from the Bible's Ten Commandments, which Petruchio simply relates to his new wife. By quoting precisely from another text, Shakespeare creates the possibility that Petruchio speaks with self-conscious irony. Furthermore, in the context of the rest of the scene, his little diatribe appears just like his outlandish outfit--a possibly malicious way to embarrass not only Kate but everybody else there. Petruchio's outlandish, exaggerated pronouncement of the social convention of women's inferiority might be interpreted as a satire of the idea that a woman is really a man's property. Petruchio's ironic take on marriage becomes particularly clear when we consider the fact that Petruchio utters his commandments while simultaneously disrupting and dishonoring the traditional Christian marriage rites themselves. Moreover, Petruchio gives another, very different opinion of married life when Baptista asks him to change his clothes: To me she's married, not unto my clothes.Could I repair what she will wear in meAs I can change these poor accoutrements,'Twere well for Kate and better for myself.           Here, he is not materialistic but idealistic, not condescending to Kate but self-deprecating--a contrast to the sentiments he expresses in Kate's presence. Petruchio's true feelings might lie somewhere in between these two extremes. He is certainly not willing to treat Kate as an equal, but he also may not be as misogynistic as he appears.