ACT IV. SCENE I.
PETRUCHIO'S country house

Enter GRUMIO

  GRUMIO. Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad masters, and
all
    foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? Was ever man so ray'd? Was
    ever man so weary? I am sent before to make a fire, and they
are
    coming after to warm them. Now were not I a little pot and
soon
    hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the
roof
    of my mouth, my heart in my belly, ere I should come by a
fire to
    thaw me. But I with blowing the fire shall warm myself; for,
    considering the weather, a taller man than I will take cold.
    Holla, ho! Curtis!

                            Enter CURTIS

  CURTIS. Who is that calls so coldly?
  GRUMIO. A piece of ice. If thou doubt it, thou mayst slide from
my
    shoulder to my heel with no greater a run but my head and my
    neck. A fire, good Curtis.
  CURTIS. Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio?
  GRUMIO. O, ay, Curtis, ay; and therefore fire, fire; cast on no
    water.
  CURTIS. Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported?
  GRUMIO. She was, good Curtis, before this frost; but thou
know'st
    winter tames man, woman, and beast; for it hath tam'd my old
    master, and my new mistress, and myself, fellow Curtis.
  CURTIS. Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast.
  GRUMIO. Am I but three inches? Why, thy horn is a foot, and so
long
    am I at the least. But wilt thou make a fire, or shall I
complain
    on thee to our mistress, whose hand- she being now at hand-
thou
    shalt soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy
hot
    office?
  CURTIS. I prithee, good Grumio, tell me how goes the world?
  GRUMIO. A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine; and
    therefore fire. Do thy duty, and have thy duty, for my master
and
    mistress are almost frozen to death.
  CURTIS. There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the
news?
  GRUMIO. Why, 'Jack boy! ho, boy!' and as much news as thou
wilt.
  CURTIS. Come, you are so full of cony-catching!
  GRUMIO. Why, therefore, fire; for I have caught extreme cold.
    Where's the cook? Is supper ready, the house trimm'd, rushes
    strew'd, cobwebs swept, the serving-men in their new fustian,
    their white stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment
on?
    Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without, the carpets
    laid, and everything in order?
  CURTIS. All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news.
  GRUMIO. First know my horse is tired; my master and mistress
fall'n
    out.
  CURTIS. How?
  GRUMIO. Out of their saddles into the dirt; and thereby hangs a
    tale.
  CURTIS. Let's ha't, good Grumio.
  GRUMIO. Lend thine ear.
  CURTIS. Here.
  GRUMIO. There.                                  [Striking him]
  CURTIS. This 'tis to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.
  GRUMIO. And therefore 'tis call'd a sensible tale; and this
cuff
    was but to knock at your car and beseech list'ning. Now I
begin:
    Imprimis, we came down a foul hill, my master riding behind
my
    mistress-
  CURTIS. Both of one horse?
  GRUMIO. What's that to thee?
  CURTIS. Why, a horse.
  GRUMIO. Tell thou the tale. But hadst thou not cross'd me, thou
    shouldst have heard how her horse fell and she under her
horse;
    thou shouldst have heard in how miry a place, how she was
    bemoil'd, how he left her with the horse upon her, how he
beat me
    because her horse stumbled, how she waded through the dirt to
    pluck him off me, how he swore, how she pray'd that never
pray'd
    before, how I cried, how the horses ran away, how her bridle
was
    burst, how I lost my crupper- with many things of worthy
memory,
    which now shall die in oblivion, and thou return
unexperienc'd to
    thy grave.
  CURTIS. By this reck'ning he is more shrew than she.
  GRUMIO. Ay, and that thou and the proudest of you all shall
find
    when he comes home. But what talk I of this? Call forth
    Nathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas, Philip, Walter, Sugarsop, and
the
    rest; let their heads be sleekly comb'd, their blue coats
brush'd
    and their garters of an indifferent knit; let them curtsy
with
    their left legs, and not presume to touch a hair of my
mastcr's
    horse-tail till they kiss their hands. Are they all ready?
  CURTIS. They are.
  GRUMIO. Call them forth.
  CURTIS. Do you hear, ho? You must meet my master, to
countenance my
    mistress.
  GRUMIO. Why, she hath a face of her own.
  CURTIS. Who knows not that?
  GRUMIO. Thou, it seems, that calls for company to countenance
her.
  CURTIS. I call them forth to credit her.
  GRUMIO. Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them.

                     Enter four or five SERVINGMEN

  NATHANIEL. Welcome home, Grumio!
  PHILIP. How now, Grumio!
  JOSEPH. What, Grumio!
  NICHOLAS. Fellow Grumio!
  NATHANIEL. How now, old lad!
  GRUMIO. Welcome, you!- how now, you!- what, you!- fellow, you!-
and
    thus much for greeting. Now, my spruce companions, is all
ready,
    and all things neat?
  NATHANIEL. All things is ready. How near is our master?
  GRUMIO. E'en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore be not-
   Cock's passion, silence! I hear my master.

                     Enter PETRUCHIO and KATHERINA

  PETRUCHIO. Where be these knaves? What, no man at door
    To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse!
    Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip?
  ALL SERVANTS. Here, here, sir; here, sir.
  PETRUCHIO. Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! here, sir!
    You logger-headed and unpolish'd grooms!
    What, no attendance? no regard? no duty?
    Where is the foolish knave I sent before?
  GRUMIO. Here, sir; as foolish as I was before.
  PETRUCHIO. YOU peasant swain! you whoreson malt-horse drudge!
    Did I not bid thee meet me in the park
    And bring along these rascal knaves with thee?
  GRUMIO. Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made,
    And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' th' heel;
    There was no link to colour Peter's hat,
    And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing;
    There were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory;
    The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly;
    Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you.
  PETRUCHIO. Go, rascals, go and fetch my supper in.
                                   Exeunt some of the SERVINGMEN

    [Sings]  Where is the life that late I led?
             Where are those-

    Sit down, Kate, and welcome. Soud, soud, soud, soud!

                 Re-enter SERVANTS with supper

    Why, when, I say? Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry.
    Off with my boots, you rogues! you villains, when?

    [Sings]  It was the friar of orders grey,
             As he forth walked on his way-

    Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry;
    Take that, and mend the plucking off the other.
                                                   [Strikes him]
    Be merry, Kate. Some water, here, what, ho!

                      Enter one with water

    Where's my spaniel Troilus? Sirrah, get you hence,
    And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither:
                                                 Exit SERVINGMAN
    One, Kate, that you must kiss and be acquainted with.
    Where are my slippers? Shall I have some water?
    Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily.
    You whoreson villain! will you let it fall?    [Strikes him]
  KATHERINA. Patience, I pray you; 'twas a fault unwilling.
  PETRUCHIO. A whoreson, beetle-headed, flap-ear'd knave!
    Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a stomach.
    Will you give thanks, sweet Kate, or else shall I?
    What's this? Mutton?
  FIRST SERVANT. Ay.
  PETRUCHIO. Who brought it?
  PETER. I.
  PETRUCHIO. 'Tis burnt; and so is all the meat.
    What dogs are these? Where is the rascal cook?
    How durst you villains bring it from the dresser
    And serve it thus to me that love it not?
    There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all;
                                [Throws the meat, etc., at them]
    You heedless joltheads and unmanner'd slaves!
    What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight.
                                                 Exeunt SERVANTS
  KATHERINA. I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet;
    The meat was well, if you were so contented.
  PETRUCHIO. I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away,
    And I expressly am forbid to touch it;
    For it engenders choler, planteth anger;
    And better 'twere that both of us did fast,
    Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric,
    Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh.
    Be patient; to-morrow 't shall be mended.
    And for this night we'll fast for company.
    Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber.        Exeunt

                     Re-enter SERVANTS severally

  NATHANIEL. Peter, didst ever see the like?
  PETER. He kills her in her own humour.

                            Re-enter CURTIS

  GRUMIO. Where is he?
  CURTIS. In her chamber. Making a sermon of continency to her,
    And rails, and swears, and rates, that she, poor soul,
    Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak.
    And sits as one new risen from a dream.
    Away, away! for he is coming hither.                  Exeunt

                       Re-enter PETRUCHIO

  PETRUCHIO. Thus have I politicly begun my reign,
    And 'tis my hope to end successfully.
    My falcon now is sharp and passing empty.
    And till she stoop she must not be full-gorg'd,
    For then she never looks upon her lure.
    Another way I have to man my haggard,
    To make her come, and know her keeper's call,
    That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites
    That bate and beat, and will not be obedient.
    She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat;
    Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not;
    As with the meat, some undeserved fault
    I'll find about the making of the bed;
    And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster,
    This way the coverlet, another way the sheets;
    Ay, and amid this hurly I intend
    That all is done in reverend care of her-
    And, in conclusion, she shall watch all night;
    And if she chance to nod I'll rail and brawl
    And with the clamour keep her still awake.
    This is a way to kill a wife with kindness,
    And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour.
    He that knows better how to tame a shrew,
    Now let him speak; 'tis charity to show.                Exit

SCENE II.
Padua. Before BAPTISTA'S house

Enter TRANIO as LUCENTIO, and HORTENSIO as LICIO

  TRANIO. Is 't possible, friend Licio, that Mistress Bianca
    Doth fancy any other but Lucentio?
    I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand.
  HORTENSIO. Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said,
    Stand by and mark the manner of his teaching.
                                              [They stand aside]

               Enter BIANCA, and LUCENTIO as CAMBIO

  LUCENTIO. Now, mistress, profit you in what you read?
  BIANCA. What, master, read you, First resolve me that.
  LUCENTIO. I read that I profess, 'The Art to Love.'
  BIANCA. And may you prove, sir, master of your art!
  LUCENTIO. While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart.
                                                   [They retire]
  HORTENSIO. Quick proceeders, marry! Now tell me, I pray,
    You that durst swear that your Mistress Bianca
    Lov'd none in the world so well as Lucentio.
  TRANIO. O despiteful love! unconstant womankind!
    I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful.
  HORTENSIO. Mistake no more; I am not Licio.
    Nor a musician as I seem to be;
    But one that scorn to live in this disguise
    For such a one as leaves a gentleman
    And makes a god of such a cullion.
    Know, sir, that I am call'd Hortensio.
  TRANIO. Signior Hortensio, I have often heard
    Of your entire affection to Bianca;
    And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness,
    I will with you, if you be so contented,
    Forswear Bianca and her love for ever.
  HORTENSIO. See, how they kiss and court! Signior Lucentio,
    Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow
    Never to woo her more, but do forswear her,
    As one unworthy all the former favours
    That I have fondly flatter'd her withal.
  TRANIO. And here I take the like unfeigned oath,
    Never to marry with her though she would entreat;
    Fie on her! See how beastly she doth court him!
  HORTENSIO. Would all the world but he had quite forsworn!
    For me, that I may surely keep mine oath,
    I will be married to a wealtlly widow
    Ere three days pass, which hath as long lov'd me
    As I have lov'd this proud disdainful haggard.
    And so farewell, Signior Lucentio.
    Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks,
    Shall win my love; and so I take my leave,
    In resolution as I swore before.                        Exit
  TRANIO. Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace
    As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case!
    Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love,
    And have forsworn you with Hortensio.
  BIANCA. Tranio, you jest; but have you both forsworn me?
  TRANIO. Mistress, we have.
  LUCENTIO. Then we are rid of Licio.
  TRANIO. I' faith, he'll have a lusty widow now,
    That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day.
  BIANCA. God give him joy!
  TRANIO. Ay, and he'll tame her.
  BIANCA. He says so, Tranio.
  TRANIO. Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school.
  BIANCA. The taming-school! What, is there such a place?
  TRANIO. Ay, mistress; and Petruchio is the master,
    That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long,
    To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue.

                       Enter BIONDELLO

  BIONDELLO. O master, master I have watch'd so long
    That I am dog-weary; but at last I spied
    An ancient angel coming down the hill
    Will serve the turn.
  TRANIO. What is he, Biondello?
  BIONDELLO. Master, a mercatante or a pedant,
    I know not what; but formal in apparel,
    In gait and countenance surely like a father.
  LUCENTIO. And what of him, Tranio?
  TRANIO. If he be credulous and trust my tale,
    I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio,
    And give assurance to Baptista Minola
    As if he were the right Vincentio.
    Take in your love, and then let me alone.
                                      Exeunt LUCENTIO and BIANCA

                         Enter a PEDANT

  PEDANT. God save you, sir!
  TRANIO. And you, sir; you are welcome.
    Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest?
  PEDANT. Sir, at the farthest for a week or two;
    But then up farther, and as far as Rome;
    And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life.
  TRANIO. What countryman, I pray?
  PEDANT. Of Mantua.
  TRANIO. Of Mantua, sir? Marry, God forbid,
    And come to Padua, careless of your life!
  PEDANT. My life, sir! How, I pray? For that goes hard.
  TRANIO. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua
    To come to Padua. Know you not the cause?
    Your ships are stay'd at Venice; and the Duke,
    For private quarrel 'twixt your Duke and him,
    Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly.
    'Tis marvel- but that you are but newly come,
    You might have heard it else proclaim'd about.
  PEDANT. Alas, sir, it is worse for me than so!
    For I have bills for money by exchange
    From Florence, and must here deliver them.
  TRANIO. Well, sir, to do you courtesy,
    This will I do, and this I will advise you-
    First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa?
  PEDANT. Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been,
    Pisa renowned for grave citizens.
  TRANIO. Among them know you one Vincentio?
  PEDANT. I know him not, but I have heard of him,
    A merchant of incomparable wealth.
  TRANIO. He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say,
    In count'nance somewhat doth resemble you.
  BIONDELLO.  [Aside]  As much as an apple doth an oyster, and
all
    one.
  TRANIO. To save your life in this extremity,
    This favour will I do you for his sake;
    And think it not the worst of all your fortunes
    That you are like to Sir Vincentio.
    His name and credit shall you undertake,
    And in my house you shall be friendly lodg'd;
    Look that you take upon you as you should.
    You understand me, sir. So shall you stay
    Till you have done your business in the city.
    If this be court'sy, sir, accept of it.
  PEDANT. O, sir, I do; and will repute you ever
    The patron of my life and liberty.
  TRANIO. Then go with me to make the matter good.
    This, by the way, I let you understand:
    My father is here look'd for every day
    To pass assurance of a dow'r in marriage
    'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here.
    In all these circumstances I'll instruct you.
    Go with me to clothe you as becomes you.              Exeunt

SCENE III.
PETRUCHIO'S house

Enter KATHERINA and GRUMIO

  GRUMIO. No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my life.
  KATHERINA. The more my wrong, the more his spite appears.
    What, did he marry me to famish me?
    Beggars that come unto my father's door
    Upon entreaty have a present alms;
    If not, elsewhere they meet with charity;
    But I, who never knew how to entreat,
    Nor never needed that I should entreat,
    Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep;
    With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed;
    And that which spites me more than all these wants-
    He does it under name of perfect love;
    As who should say, if I should sleep or eat,
    'Twere deadly sickness or else present death.
    I prithee go and get me some repast;
    I care not what, so it be wholesome food.
  GRUMIO. What say you to a neat's foot?
  KATHERINA. 'Tis passing good; I prithee let me have it.
  GRUMIO. I fear it is too choleric a meat.
    How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd?
  KATHERINA. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me.
  GRUMIO. I cannot tell; I fear 'tis choleric.
    What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
  KATHERINA. A dish that I do love to feed upon.
  GRUMIO. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.
  KATHERINA. Why then the beef, and let the mustard rest.
  GRUMIO. Nay, then I will not; you shall have the mustard,
    Or else you get no beef of Grumio.
  KATHERINA. Then both, or one, or anything thou wilt.
  GRUMIO. Why then the mustard without the beef.
  KATHERINA. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave,
                                                     [Beats him]
    That feed'st me with the very name of meat.
    Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you
    That triumph thus upon my misery!
    Go, get thee gone, I say.

               Enter PETRUCHIO, and HORTENSIO with meat

  PETRUCHIO. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort?
  HORTENSIO. Mistress, what cheer?
  KATHERINA. Faith, as cold as can be.
  PETRUCHIO. Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon me.
    Here, love, thou seest how diligent I am,
    To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee.
    I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.
    What, not a word? Nay, then thou lov'st it not,
    And all my pains is sorted to no proof.
    Here, take away this dish.
  KATHERINA. I pray you, let it stand.
  PETRUCHIO. The poorest service is repaid with thanks;
    And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.
  KATHERINA. I thank you, sir.
  HORTENSIO. Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame.
    Come, Mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.
  PETRUCHIO.  [Aside]  Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest
me.-
    Much good do it unto thy gentle heart!
    Kate, eat apace. And now, my honey love,
    Will we return unto thy father's house
    And revel it as bravely as the best,
    With silken coats and caps, and golden rings,
    With ruffs and cuffs and farthingales and things,
    With scarfs and fans and double change of brav'ry.
    With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knav'ry.
    What, hast thou din'd? The tailor stays thy leisure,
    To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure.

                          Enter TAILOR

    Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments;
    Lay forth the gown.

                        Enter HABERDASHER

    What news with you, sir?
  HABERDASHER. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.
  PETRUCHIO. Why, this was moulded on a porringer;
    A velvet dish. Fie, fie! 'tis lewd and filthy;
    Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell,
    A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap.
    Away with it. Come, let me have a bigger.
  KATHERINA. I'll have no bigger; this doth fit the time,
    And gentlewomen wear such caps as these.
  PETRUCHIO. When you are gentle, you shall have one too,
    And not till then.
  HORTENSIO.  [Aside]  That will not be in haste.
  KATHERINA. Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak;
    And speak I will. I am no child, no babe.
    Your betters have endur'd me say my mind,
    And if you cannot, best you stop your ears.
    My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,
    Or else my heart, concealing it, will break;
    And rather than it shall, I will be free
    Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.
  PETRUCHIO. Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap,
    A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie;
    I love thee well in that thou lik'st it not.
  KATHERINA. Love me or love me not, I like the cap;
    And it I will have, or I will have none.    Exit HABERDASHER
  PETRUCHIO. Thy gown? Why, ay. Come, tailor, let us see't.
    O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here?
    What's this? A sleeve? 'Tis like a demi-cannon.
    What, up and down, carv'd like an appletart?
    Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash,
    Like to a censer in a barber's shop.
    Why, what a devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?
  HORTENSIO.  [Aside]  I see she's like to have neither cap nor
gown.
  TAILOR. You bid me make it orderly and well,
    According to the fashion and the time.
  PETRUCHIO. Marry, and did; but if you be rememb'red,
    I did not bid you mar it to the time.
    Go, hop me over every kennel home,
    For you shall hop without my custom, sir.
    I'll none of it; hence! make your best of it.
  KATHERINA. I never saw a better fashion'd gown,
    More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable;
    Belike you mean to make a puppet of me.
  PETRUCHIO. Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee.
  TAILOR. She says your worship means to make a puppet of her.
  PETRUCHIO. O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread, thou
      thimble,
    Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail,
    Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou-
    Brav'd in mine own house with a skein of thread!
    Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant;
    Or I shall so bemete thee with thy yard
    As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv'st!
    I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.
  TAILOR. Your worship is deceiv'd; the gown is made
    Just as my master had direction.
    Grumio gave order how it should be done.
  GRUMIO. I gave him no order; I gave him the stuff.
  TAILOR. But how did you desire it should be made?
  GRUMIO. Marry, sir, with needle and thread.
  TAILOR. But did you not request to have it cut?
  GRUMIO. Thou hast fac'd many things.
  TAILOR. I have.
  GRUMIO. Face not me. Thou hast brav'd many men; brave not me. I
    will neither be fac'd nor brav'd. I say unto thee, I bid thy
    master cut out the gown; but I did not bid him cut it to
pieces.
    Ergo, thou liest.
  TAILOR. Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify.
  PETRUCHIO. Read it.
  GRUMIO. The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so.
  TAILOR.  [Reads]  'Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown'-
  GRUMIO. Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in the
    skirts of it and beat me to death with a bottom of brown
bread; I
    said a gown.
  PETRUCHIO. Proceed.
  TAILOR.  [Reads]  'With a small compass'd cape'-
  GRUMIO. I confess the cape.
  TAILOR.  [Reads]  'With a trunk sleeve'-
  GRUMIO. I confess two sleeves.
  TAILOR.  [Reads]  'The sleeves curiously cut.'
  PETRUCHIO. Ay, there's the villainy.
  GRUMIO. Error i' th' bill, sir; error i' th' bill! I commanded
the
    sleeves should be cut out, and sew'd up again; and that I'll
    prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a
thimble.
  TAILOR. This is true that I say; an I had thee in place where,
thou
    shouldst know it.
  GRUMIO. I am for thee straight; take thou the bill, give me thy
    meteyard, and spare not me.
  HORTENSIO. God-a-mercy, Grumio! Then he shall have no odds.
  PETRUCHIO. Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me.
  GRUMIO. You are i' th' right, sir; 'tis for my mistress.
  PETRUCHIO. Go, take it up unto thy master's use.
  GRUMIO. Villain, not for thy life! Take up my mistress' gown
for
    thy master's use!
  PETRUCHIO. Why, sir, what's your conceit in that?
  GRUMIO. O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for.
    Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use!
    O fie, fie, fie!
  PETRUCHIO.  [Aside]  Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor
paid.-
    Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more.
  HORTENSIO. Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown to-morrow;
    Take no unkindness of his hasty words.
    Away, I say; commend me to thy master.           Exit TAILOR
  PETRUCHIO. Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father's
    Even in these honest mean habiliments;
    Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor;
    For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
    And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
    So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
    What, is the jay more precious than the lark
    Because his feathers are more beautiful?
    Or is the adder better than the eel
    Because his painted skin contents the eye?
    O no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse
    For this poor furniture and mean array.
    If thou account'st it shame, lay it on me;
    And therefore frolic; we will hence forthwith
    To feast and sport us at thy father's house.
    Go call my men, and let us straight to him;
    And bring our horses unto Long-lane end;
    There will we mount, and thither walk on foot.
    Let's see; I think 'tis now some seven o'clock,
    And well we may come there by dinner-time.
  KATHERINA. I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two,
    And 'twill be supper-time ere you come there.
  PETRUCHIO. It shall be seven ere I go to horse.
    Look what I speak, or do, or think to do,
    You are still crossing it. Sirs, let 't alone;
    I will not go to-day; and ere I do,
    It shall be what o'clock I say it is.
  HORTENSIO. Why, so this gallant will command the sun.
                                                          Exeunt

SCENE IV.
Padua. Before BAPTISTA'S house

Enter TRANIO as LUCENTIO, and the PEDANT dressed like VINCENTIO

  TRANIO. Sir, this is the house; please it you that I call?
  PEDANT. Ay, what else? And, but I be deceived,
    Signior Baptista may remember me
    Near twenty years ago in Genoa,
    Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus.
  TRANIO. 'Tis well; and hold your own, in any case,
    With such austerity as longeth to a father.

                       Enter BIONDELLO

  PEDANT. I warrant you. But, sir, here comes your boy;
    'Twere good he were school'd.
  TRANIO. Fear you not him. Sirrah Biondello,
    Now do your duty throughly, I advise you.
    Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio.
  BIONDELLO. Tut, fear not me.
  TRANIO. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista?
  BIONDELLO. I told him that your father was at Venice,
    And that you look'd for him this day in Padua.
  TRANIO. Th'art a tall fellow; hold thee that to drink.
    Here comes Baptista. Set your countenance, sir.

                 Enter BAPTISTA, and LUCENTIO as CAMBIO

    Signior Baptista, you are happily met.
    [To To the PEDANT] Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of;
    I pray you stand good father to me now;
    Give me Bianca for my patrimony.
  PEDANT. Soft, son!
    Sir, by your leave: having come to Padua
    To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio
    Made me acquainted with a weighty cause
    Of love between your daughter and himself;
    And- for the good report I hear of you,
    And for the love he beareth to your daughter,
    And she to him- to stay him not too long,
    I am content, in a good father's care,
    To have him match'd; and, if you please to like
    No worse than I, upon some agreement
    Me shall you find ready and willing
    With one consent to have her so bestow'd;
    For curious I cannot be with you,
    Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well.
  BAPTISTA. Sir, pardon me in what I have to say.
    Your plainness and your shortness please me well.
    Right true it is your son Lucentio here
    Doth love my daughter, and she loveth him,
    Or both dissemble deeply their affections;
    And therefore, if you say no more than this,
    That like a father you will deal with him,
    And pass my daughter a sufficient dower,
    The match is made, and all is done-
    Your son shall have my daughter with consent.
  TRANIO. I thank you, sir. Where then do you know best
    We be affied, and such assurance ta'en
    As shall with either part's agreement stand?
  BAPTISTA. Not in my house, Lucentio, for you know
    Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants;
    Besides, old Gremio is heark'ning still,
    And happily we might be interrupted.
  TRANIO. Then at my lodging, an it like you.
    There doth my father lie; and there this night
    We'll pass the business privately and well.
    Send for your daughter by your servant here;
    My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently.
    The worst is this, that at so slender warning
    You are like to have a thin and slender pittance.
  BAPTISTA. It likes me well. Cambio, hie you home,
    And bid Bianca make her ready straight;
    And, if you will, tell what hath happened-
    Lucentio's father is arriv'd in Padua,
    And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife.      Exit LUCENTIO
  BIONDELLO. I pray the gods she may, with all my heart.
  TRANIO. Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone.
                                                  Exit BIONDELLO
    Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way?
    Welcome! One mess is like to be your cheer;
    Come, sir; we will better it in Pisa.
  BAPTISTA. I follow you.                                 Exeunt

            Re-enter LUCENTIO as CAMBIO, and BIONDELLO

  BIONDELLO. Cambio.
  LUCENTIO. What say'st thou, Biondello?
  BIONDELLO. You saw my master wink and laugh upon you?
  LUCENTIO. Biondello, what of that?
  BIONDELLO. Faith, nothing; but has left me here behind to
expound
    the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens.
  LUCENTIO. I pray thee moralize them.
  BIONDELLO. Then thus: Baptista is safe, talking with the
deceiving
    father of a deceitful son.
  LUCENTIO. And what of him?
  BIONDELLO. His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper.
  LUCENTIO. And then?
  BIONDELLO. The old priest at Saint Luke's church is at your
command
    at all hours.
  LUCENTIO. And what of all this?
  BIONDELLO. I cannot tell, except they are busied about a
    counterfeit assurance. Take your assurance of her, cum
privilegio
    ad imprimendum solum; to th' church take the priest, clerk,
and
    some sufficient honest witnesses.
    If this be not that you look for, I have more to say,
    But bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day.
  LUCENTIO. Hear'st thou, Biondello?
  BIONDELLO. I cannot tarry. I knew a wench married in an
afternoon
    as she went to the garden for parsley to stuff a rabbit; and
so
    may you, sir; and so adieu, sir. My master hath appointed me
to
    go to Saint Luke's to bid the priest be ready to come against
you
    come with your appendix.
 Exit
  LUCENTIO. I may and will, if she be so contented.
    She will be pleas'd; then wherefore should I doubt?
    Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her;
    It shall go hard if Cambio go without her.              Exit

SCENE V.
A public road

Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, HORTENSIO, and SERVANTS

  PETRUCHIO. Come on, a God's name; once more toward our
father's.
    Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon!
  KATHERINA. The moon? The sun! It is not moonlight now.
  PETRUCHIO. I say it is the moon that shines so bright.
  KATHERINA. I know it is the sun that shines so bright.
  PETRUCHIO. Now by my mother's son, and that's myself,
    It shall be moon, or star, or what I list,
    Or ere I journey to your father's house.
    Go on and fetch our horses back again.
    Evermore cross'd and cross'd; nothing but cross'd!
  HORTENSIO. Say as he says, or we shall never go.
  KATHERINA. Forward, I pray, since we have come so far,
    And be it moon, or sun, or what you please;
    And if you please to call it a rush-candle,
    Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.
  PETRUCHIO. I say it is the moon.
  KATHERINA. I know it is the moon.
  PETRUCHIO. Nay, then you lie; it is the blessed sun.
  KATHERINA. Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun;
    But sun it is not, when you say it is not;
    And the moon changes even as your mind.
    What you will have it nam'd, even that it is,
    And so it shall be so for Katherine.
  HORTENSIO. Petruchio, go thy ways, the field is won.
  PETRUCHIO. Well, forward, forward! thus the bowl should run,
    And not unluckily against the bias.
    But, soft! Company is coming here.

                            Enter VINCENTIO

    [To VINCENTIO]  Good-morrow, gentle mistress; where away?-
    Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,
    Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman?
    Such war of white and red within her cheeks!
    What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty
    As those two eyes become that heavenly face?
    Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee.
    Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake.
  HORTENSIO. 'A will make the man mad, to make a woman of him.
  KATHERINA. Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet,
    Whither away, or where is thy abode?
    Happy the parents of so fair a child;
    Happier the man whom favourable stars
    Allots thee for his lovely bed-fellow.
  PETRUCHIO. Why, how now, Kate, I hope thou art not mad!
    This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, withered,
    And not a maiden, as thou sayst he is.
  KATHERINA. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,
    That have been so bedazzled with the sun
    That everything I look on seemeth green;
    Now I perceive thou art a reverend father.
    Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.
  PETRUCHIO. Do, good old grandsire, and withal make known
    Which way thou travellest- if along with us,
    We shall be joyful of thy company.
  VINCENTIO. Fair sir, and you my merry mistress,
    That with your strange encounter much amaz'd me,
    My name is call'd Vincentio, my dwelling Pisa,
    And bound I am to Padua, there to visit
    A son of mine, which long I have not seen.
  PETRUCHIO. What is his name?
  VINCENTIO. Lucentio, gentle sir.
  PETRUCHIO. Happily met; the happier for thy son.
    And now by law, as well as reverend age,
    I may entitle thee my loving father:
    The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman,
    Thy son by this hath married. Wonder not,
    Nor be not grieved- she is of good esteem,
    Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth;
    Beside, so qualified as may beseem
    The spouse of any noble gentleman.
    Let me embrace with old Vincentio;
    And wander we to see thy honest son,
    Who will of thy arrival be full joyous.
  VINCENTIO. But is this true; or is it else your pleasure,
    Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest
    Upon the company you overtake?
  HORTENSIO. I do assure thee, father, so it is.
  PETRUCHIO. Come, go along, and see the truth hereof;
    For our first merriment hath made thee jealous.
                                        Exeunt all but HORTENSIO
  HORTENSIO. Well, Petruchio, this has put me in heart.
    Have to my widow; and if she be froward,
    Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward.         Exit

Inside Petruchio's country abode, Grumio is busy making a fire and complaining about the cold in preparation for his master and mistress' arrival. Curtis, another of Petruchio's servants, has not yet met the new bride and asks if she is as shrewish as reported. Grumio assures him that Petruchio is the greater shrew of the two. When Petruchio arrives he behaves tyranically, beating his servants for trivial faults. Kate begs her husband not to behave so unjustly. When they sit down to dinner Petruchio claims that the meat is overcooked and storms off to bed with Kate. He reappears and explains his intention to tame the shrew by out-shrewing her: he will mistreat her and deprive her of what she needs, all under the guise of kindness and love. Thus, by insisting that neither her food nor her bed are worthy of her, he will wear out her spirit with lack of nourishment and sleep. Meanwhile, in Padua, Hortensio is disgusted by the flirtation of Bianca and "Cambio," and shares his disgust with Tranio, who he takes to be noble. At Tranio's suggestion, the two vow to cease pursuing Bianca if she would flirt with a lowly schoolteacher. Hortensio states that he has decided to wed a wealthy widow instead of Bianca, leaving "Cambio" to woo Bianca alone. Biondello rushes in to aid their attempt, claiming that an old Pedant from Mantua approaches. Tranio tricks the Pedant into assuming the guise of Vincentio of Pisa after concocting a story that any Mantuan is to be summarily executed in Padua. The Pedant agrees to the disguise and Tranio fills him in on his courtship of Bianca. Scene three of the Act finds us back at Petruchio's house, where Kate complains that she is famished. Grumio, like Petruchio, refuses to bring her any food, protesting that none of it is good enough for her. Katharina then loses her temper and beats Grumio. Petruchio enters with a plate of meat and Hortensio by his side. He demands that Katharina thank him for the meat while telling Hortensio to eat it all himself. Petruchio next tells Katharina that the two of them will shortly return to her father's house, dressed in the best finery. A Haberdasher and Tailor appear, with a cap and gown respectively. Petruchio violently dismisses both items over the protestations of Kate, who likes them. She seems polite and kind compared to Petruchio. Her husband, however, refuses to allow her to dress up, declaring that clothes are of little importance and that he and Kate will arrive at Baptista's "in these honest, mean habiliments." He calls for the horses and proclaims he will be at the house by noon. Katharina notes that it is already two o'clock, prompting her husband to berate her for constantly contradicting him. Scene four takes us to Padua again, where Tranio and the Pedant , meet with Baptista. "Vincentio" grants his permission for his son and Bianca to be wed and guarantees Bianca a large dower. These claims prove satisfactory for Baptista, who readily agrees to the marriage, but decides against conducting the formal contract and agreement inside his own house, for fear that Gremio and his servants may be listening and might interrupt. Tranio offers his own house, noting that the banquet will not be a grand affair but promising a better one later on in Pisa. Lucentio and Bianca, meanwhile, on Biondello's advice, elope to be married post-haste while Baptista is with Tranio and the Pedant. In scene five, Kate and Petruchio are on the road to Padua again. Petruchio continues his shrewish behavior, insisting that the sun is the moon and threatening to turn the cart around if Kate doesn't agree. Kate finally begins to play along, agreeing that the sun is the moon and then changing her opinion when Petruchio changes his. This game is interrupted by the appearance of the real Vincentio, Lucentio's father, whom Petruchio refers to as a "gentlewoman" ; he insists that Kate agree, and she does so, calling him a "budding virgin." A bit shaken by their jesting, Vincentio introduces himself, noting that he is on his way to Padua to visit his son. Petruchio informs the man that they are now family - for Lucentio has married the sister of Katharina. Vincentio is shocked and asks Petruchio if he is joking. Petruchio assures him that he is not and invites Vincentio along. The party leaves, after which Hortensio, alone on the stage, confides that he is encouraged and will now go to the widow he intends to wed.

The fourth act of Shrew is by far the longest of the five acts. In it Shakespeare divides his narrative into two entirely separate strands, separated by a sizeable expanse of geography. Almost cinematically, The Taming of the Shrew "cuts" between city and country, between Petruchio's rural abode and Padua. Only when Kate and Petruchio set off for Padua do the two narrative strands begin to reconnect, which they do in the final Act. Shakespeare does not simply separate the two plotlines in terms of space, however. He separates them in terms of tone; indeed, at times it may seem that we have on our hands two entirely different plays. That which occurs in Padua is gentle and sweet, full of disguises - Hortensio as Litio, Lucentio as Cambio, Tranio as Lucentio, the Pedant as Vincentio - and playful gamesmanship. The action occurs in the country, on the other hand, is loud and abrasive, full of misery and cold. The humor at Petruchio's house is bawdy and violent. Petruchio himself sets the tone, behaving so outlandishly that Katharina appears a saint in comparison, as when she intervenes on the behalf of the abused servants or the insulted Haberdasher and Tailor. Consider the abrupt switch from Scene One to Two. Here are Petruchio's famous closing words: "This is a way to kill a wife with kindness;/And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humor./He that knows better how to tame a shrew,/Now let him speak. 'Tis charity to show." The diction says it all: "kill," "curb," "mad," "headstrong," "tame," "shrew." In contrast, scene two drops us into the middle of a quiet conversation between two disguised characters, Tranio and Hortensio, as they walk before Baptista's abode. The opening words provide a pointed contrast to Petruchio's: "Is't possible, friend Litio, that Mistress Bianca/Doth fancy any other but Lucentio?/I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand." Out of excessive politeness, Tranio addresses his companion as first "friend Litio" and then "sir," and refers to the object of his affection as "Mistress Bianca." Hortensio responds by likewise calling Tranio "sir." The two men, though secretly at odds with one another, treat each other with restraint and respect. This gentle, superficial tone continues in the discourse of Lucentio and Bianca. When they speak we are miles away from physical aggression - or anything physical at all: LUCENTIO: "Now, mistress, profit you in what you read?" BIANCA: "What, master, read you? First resolve me that." LUCENTIO: "I read that I profess, The Art of Love." BIANCA: "And may you prove, sir, master of your art!" LUCENTIO: "While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart!" Rhythmically, the dialogue is subdued, lilting - quite unlike the choppy and staccato rhythms of Petruchio and Katharina's first conversation. The words themselves are equally gentle. From a brash and bawdy household Shakespeare has ushered us into a discrete and refined world, in which love is conducted through subtle disguises and books. If for Lucentio and Bianca love is an art, for Petruchio and Katharina it is a sport. The witty repartee between the latter couple is more or less on hold in this act, replaced by Petruchio's overarching plan to tame rather than court. Katharina, in other words, is no longer worthy of being treated as a romantic opponent or companion. She is an animal. Petruchio suggests as much in his harshly sexist speech to his servants, in which he refers to his wife as a "falcon" and a "haggard." His plan is "to make her come and know her keeper's call." And yet the supposedly wild Kate does not seem to live up to her label in these scenes - with the exception of her beating of Grumio. Curtis foreshadows our own impression with his response to Grumio's tale of the fallen horse: "By this reckoning he is more shrew than she." Then who really needs to be tamed? Is it possible that, by the "shrew" in the play's title, Shakespeare means to refer to Petruchio rather than Katharina? By the end of the fourth act, Katharina is treating her husband as if he were a whimpering baby who demands to be constantly humored. With more than a hint of mocking in her words, she tells Petruchio: "Then, God be blessed, it is the blessA"d sun./But sun it is not, when you say it is not,/And the moon changes even as your mind./What you will have it named, even that it is,/And so it shall be for Katharine." This is the language of a woman wise enough to be in charge, but who subjagates herself to please - or perhaps to control - her husband. Whereas Shakespeare's play is often considered sexist, it is possible that, in keeping with the theme of disguise, the Bard has disguised the "shrew" of his title. It could in fact be Petruchio. While at first glance Petruchio seems to be doing the taming, Kate's willingness to play along with his games is its own form of power. Keep in mind, additionally, that during Shakespeare's day both male and female roles were performed by men; indeed, Shakesperean theater already emphasized the performative nature of gender. Shrew's final Acts seem to take this awareness to an extreme. Whatever the case, the power-struggle that occurs between Petruchio and Katharina is an extension of their courtship. Yes, they have already married, but the wedding was such a hasty affair that a lasting arrangement has yet to enter the bargain. Thus, these two find themselves in much the same position as Lucentio and Bianca, and Shakespeare is in effect offering two types of courtship - both grounded in play-acting, and both therefore belonging in spirit to his own domain of the theater.


ACT V. SCENE I.
Padua. Before LUCENTIO'S house

Enter BIONDELLO, LUCENTIO, and BIANCA; GREMIO is out before

  BIONDELLO. Softly and swiftly, sir, for the priest is ready.
  LUCENTIO. I fly, Biondello; but they may chance to need the at
    home, therefore leave us.
  BIONDELLO. Nay, faith, I'll see the church a your back, and
then
    come back to my master's as soon as I can.
                          Exeunt LUCENTIO, BIANCA, and BIONDELLO
  GREMIO. I marvel Cambio comes not all this while.

           Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHERINA, VINCENTIO, GRUMIO,
                          and ATTENDANTS

  PETRUCHIO. Sir, here's the door; this is Lucentio's house;
    My father's bears more toward the market-place;
    Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir.
  VINCENTIO. You shall not choose but drink before you go;
    I think I shall command your welcome here,
    And by all likelihood some cheer is toward.         [Knocks]
  GREMIO. They're busy within; you were best knock louder.
                                [PEDANT looks out of the window]
  PEDANT. What's he that knocks as he would beat down the gate?
  VINCENTIO. Is Signior Lucentio within, sir?
  PEDANT. He's within, sir, but not to be spoken withal.
  VINCENTIO. What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two to
make
    merry withal?
  PEDANT. Keep your hundred pounds to yourself; he shall need
none so
    long as I live.
  PETRUCHIO. Nay, I told you your son was well beloved in Padua.
Do
    you hear, sir? To leave frivolous circumstances, I pray you
tell
    Signior Lucentio that his father is come from Pisa, and is
here
    at the door to speak with him.
  PEDANT. Thou liest: his father is come from Padua, and here
looking
    out at the window.
  VINCENTIO. Art thou his father?
  PEDANT. Ay, sir; so his mother says, if I may believe her.
  PETRUCHIO.  [To VINCENTIO]  Why, how now, gentleman!
    Why, this is flat knavery to take upon you another man's
name.
  PEDANT. Lay hands on the villain; I believe 'a means to cozen
    somebody in this city under my countenance.

                       Re-enter BIONDELLO

  BIONDELLO. I have seen them in the church together. God send
'em
    good shipping! But who is here? Mine old master, Vincentio!
Now we
    are undone and brought to nothing.
  VINCENTIO.  [Seeing BIONDELLO]  Come hither, crack-hemp.
  BIONDELLO. I hope I may choose, sir.
  VINCENTIO. Come hither, you rogue. What, have you forgot me?
  BIONDELLO. Forgot you! No, sir. I could not forget you, for I
never
    saw you before in all my life.
  VINCENTIO. What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see
thy
    master's father, Vincentio?
  BIONDELLO. What, my old worshipful old master? Yes, marry, sir;
see
    where he looks out of the window.
  VINCENTIO. Is't so, indeed?               [He beats BIONDELLO]
  BIONDELLO. Help, help, help! Here's a madman will murder me.
 Exit
  PEDANT. Help, son! help, Signior Baptista!     Exit from above
  PETRUCHIO. Prithee, Kate, let's stand aside and see the end of
this
    controversy.                              [They stand aside]

       Re-enter PEDANT below; BAPTISTA, TRANIO, and SERVANTS

  TRANIO. Sir, what are you that offer to beat my servant?
  VINCENTIO. What am I, sir? Nay, what are you, sir? O immortal
gods!
    O fine villain! A silken doublet, a velvet hose, a scarlet
cloak,
    and a copatain hat! O, I am undone! I am undone! While I play
the
    good husband at home, my son and my servant spend all at the
    university.
  TRANIO. How now! what's the matter?
  BAPTISTA. What, is the man lunatic?
  TRANIO. Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your habit,
but
    your words show you a madman. Why, sir, what 'cerns it you if
I
    wear pearl and gold? I thank my good father, I am able to
    maintain it.
  VINCENTIO. Thy father! O villain! he is a sailmaker in Bergamo.
  BAPTISTA. You mistake, sir; you mistake, sir. Pray, what do you

    think is his name?
  VINCENTIO. His name! As if I knew not his name! I have brought
him
    up ever since he was three years old, and his name is Tranio.
  PEDANT. Away, away, mad ass! His name is Lucentio; and he is
mine
    only son, and heir to the lands of me, Signior Vicentio.
  VINCENTIO. Lucentio! O, he hath murd'red his master! Lay hold
on
    him, I charge you, in the Duke's name. O, my son, my son!
Tell
    me, thou villain, where is my son, Lucentio?
  TRANIO. Call forth an officer.

                      Enter one with an OFFICER

    Carry this mad knave to the gaol. Father Baptista, I charge
you
    see that he be forthcoming.
  VINCENTIO. Carry me to the gaol!
  GREMIO. Stay, Officer; he shall not go to prison.
  BAPTISTA. Talk not, Signior Gremio; I say he shall go to
prison.
  GREMIO. Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be cony-catch'd
in
    this business; I dare swear this is the right Vincentio.
  PEDANT. Swear if thou dar'st.
  GREMIO. Nay, I dare not swear it.
  TRANIO. Then thou wert best say that I am not Lucentio.
  GREMIO. Yes, I know thee to be Signior Lucentio.
  BAPTISTA. Away with the dotard; to the gaol with him!
  VINCENTIO. Thus strangers may be hal'd and abus'd. O monstrous
    villain!

          Re-enter BIONDELLO, with LUCENTIO and BIANCA

  BIONDELLO. O, we are spoil'd; and yonder he is! Deny him,
forswear
    him, or else we are all undone.
         Exeunt BIONDELLO, TRANIO, and PEDANT, as fast as may be
  LUCENTIO.  [Kneeling]  Pardon, sweet father.
  VINCENTIO. Lives my sweet son?
  BIANCA. Pardon, dear father.
  BAPTISTA. How hast thou offended?
    Where is Lucentio?
  LUCENTIO. Here's Lucentio,
    Right son to the right Vincentio,
    That have by marriage made thy daughter mine,
    While counterfeit supposes blear'd thine eyne.
  GREMIO. Here's packing, with a witness, to deceive us all!
  VINCENTIO. Where is that damned villain, Tranio,
    That fac'd and brav'd me in this matter so?
  BAPTISTA. Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio?
  BIANCA. Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio.
  LUCENTIO. Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love
    Made me exchange my state with Tranio,
    While he did bear my countenance in the town;
    And happily I have arrived at the last
    Unto the wished haven of my bliss.
    What Tranio did, myself enforc'd him to;
    Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake.
  VINCENTIO. I'll slit the villain's nose that would have sent me
to
    the gaol.
  BAPTISTA.  [To LUCENTIO]  But do you hear, sir? Have you
married my
    daughter without asking my good will?
  VINCENTIO. Fear not, Baptista; we will content you, go to; but
I
    will in to be revenged for this villainy.               Exit
  BAPTISTA. And I to sound the depth of this knavery.       Exit
  LUCENTIO. Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown.
                                      Exeunt LUCENTIO and BIANCA
  GREMIO. My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest;
    Out of hope of all but my share of the feast.           Exit
  KATHERINA. Husband, let's follow to see the end of this ado.
  PETRUCHIO. First kiss me, Kate, and we will.
  KATHERINA. What, in the midst of the street?
  PETRUCHIO. What, art thou asham'd of me?
  KATHERINA. No, sir; God forbid; but asham'd to kiss.
  PETRUCHIO. Why, then, let's home again. Come, sirrah, let's
away.
  KATHERINA. Nay, I will give thee a kiss; now pray thee, love,
stay.
  PETRUCHIO. Is not this well? Come, my sweet Kate:
    Better once than never, for never too late.           Exeunt

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, no longer disguised as Cambio, steals away with Bianca to church just before Petruchio, Katharina, Vincentio and Grumio arrive. Vincentio knocks on Lucentio's door, which the Pedant answers. When Vincentio claims to be Lucentio's father, the Pedant denies this and insists that he himself is Lucentio's father. A heated argument ensues and escalates as Vincentio sees Lucentio's servants, Biondello and Tranio, complicit in the deception. Vincentio beats Biondello and accuses Tranio of murdering and impersonating Lucentio. Petruchio and Kate, meanwhile, step aside and enjoy the unfolding farce. Tranio and Baptista call for an officer, claiming that Vincentio is mad, and the controversy rages until Lucentio and Bianca return from their hasty wedding. Seeing that their game is finally up, Tranio, the Pedant, and Biondello all scatter away. Lucentio pleads for his father's forgiveness, explaining the situation to him and assuring him of Tranio's innocence in the matter. Though still fuming, Vincentio grants his approval of Lucentio and Bianca's union and assures Baptista: "Fear not, we will content you." The scene ends with Kate bantering with Petruchio and granting him a reluctant kiss. In the play's final scene, the assembled company enjoys a banquet in Lucentio's home. There are three newlywed couples - Kate and Petruchio, Lucentio and Bianca and Hortensio and the Widow. The women leave and Baptista remarks that Petruchio has married "the veriest shrew of all." Petruchio heartily disagrees, and proposes a wager - the men agree on a hundred crowns - to determine "whose wife is most obedient." Both Hortensio and Lucentio bid their wives to come as part of the bargain, and both wives refuse. The one wife who does follow the order is, to all but Petruchio's surprise, Katharina. Petruchio, to prove the point even further, asks Katharina to bring forth the other two wives, which she promptly does. Petruchio then requests that she "tell these headstrong women/What duty they do owe their lords and husbands." Katharina does as asked, delivering a long speech on a wife's duty to her husband.

The crux of most negative criticism of The Taming of the Shrew is Katharina's final monologue. Indeed, it is hard to accept such lines as these: "Such duty as the subject owes the prince,/Even such a woman oweth to her husband;/And when she is forward, 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?"  How are modern audiences to take such a blatant affirmation of sexism, of female subjugation before the male "lord"? But perhaps we need not take the speech at face value at all. A strong current of irony runs through it. To consider first its role in the dramatic symmetry of the play as a whole, Kate's speech can be read as an answer, from the woman's part, to Lucentio's own opening monologue. These lengthy chunks of speech serve as bookends to the drama. Both follow the mold of classical convention laid out in ancient Greek theater: the expositive salvo at the beginning and the moralistic coda at the end, in which the lessons learned are summarized and the meaning of the play is made clear. Needless to say, these conventions had been tampered with well before Shakespeare's time. Even the Greeks themselves didn't always rigidly follow them. Nonetheless, Shakespeare went farther than any dramatist before his time in approaching comedy with tongue firmly in cheek. Katharina's closing monologue may be an elaborate joke. Just as Lucentio's lofty language at the play's beginning was coupled with an erotic undertone, so too the pomposity of Katharina's language contrasts with her subject matter. She repeatedly alludes to royalty and to the machinations of government: "thy lord, thy king, thy governor" ; "thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,/Thy head, thy sovereign" ; "tribute" ; "prince" ; "loving lord" ; "rule, supremacy, and sway" ; "duty" . She invokes war and battle - "our lances"  - and the hardships of nature - "To painful labor both by sea and land,/To watch the night in storms, the day in cold."  And what is she actually talking about? Marriage. True, marriage may be an important institution, but one would never know it from the way it is treated in Shrew. Courtship and marriage is the butt of jokes, games, disguises, innuendoes. In short, marriage is theater in The Taming of the Shrew. Just so, Katharina's speech, in the context of the play that precedes it, is deeply ironic.  It would be one thing if, after subjecting her to such a cruel battery of taming techniques, Petruchio made the speech; but the fact that Katharina is given the last word - and also the longest speech in the play - is itself enough to raise an eyebrow. Perhaps Kate's  speech is her way of putting on yet another act, of wryly offering one more illusion. According to this reading, Kate's subjection is a form of grand sarcasm, as she pretends to genuflect before the childish men who have spent so much of the play in comic confusion. This is how you play their game, she seems to say between the lines, and this is how you beat them at it.


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]

The Induction begins in front of a bar in the English countryside, where the Hostess and the belligerent Christopher Sly argue about Sly trashing the tavern. When Sly threatens to beat the Hostess, she replies that Sly belongs in the "stocks" . Sly is indignant; he calls her a whore, claims he is the descendant of "Richard the Conqueror" , and refuses to pay for some broken beer mugs. He also misquotes lines from Thomas Kyd's famous play, The Spanish Tragedy . When the Hostess runs off to fetch the law, Sly continues to talk trash to nobody in particular until he passes out cold. Along come the Lord and his posse, looking to kick back a few cold beers after a long day of hunting. The Lord and the Huntsmen talk about how awesome their hunting dogs are when they notice Sly asleep on the ground. The Lord, who basically owns the entire countryside, is totally disgusted. He calls Sly a "monstrous beast" and a "swine" and says he's going to play an elaborate prank to teach Sly a lesson. The Lord gives his crew orders to take Sly to his fancy country estate, clean him up, and surround him with delicious food, great music, and obedient servants. The plan, he says, is to trick Sly into believing he is a nobleman instead of a drunken beggar. While walking over to his place, the Lord continues to play director. He tells his crew to pretend Sly is a great lord whose recent illness has his wife super-upset. Everyone agrees that this is an awesome idea - if they play their roles right, Sly will have no choice but to believe he's the person they say he is. Sly is carried up to a bedroom. Meanwhile, a bunch of actors just happen to show up at the estate. Being a big theater buff, the Lord offers to let them crash for the night in exchange for some entertainment. He tells them he'd like them to put on a play for a fellow "Lord" but there's one small thing: the actors can't laugh at this guy when he acts like a hillbilly who has never seen a play before. This is no problem for the theater troupe - they are actors after all. Acting, however, is thirsty work, so they wander off to the pantry to get some drinks and to maybe grab a little snack before the private performance. This is nice for the actors, but the Lord's work isn't quite done - since he still needs someone to pretend to be Sly's wife, he tells one of his lackeys to fetch his best boy servant, Bartholomew, and to dress up Bart like a trophy wife. The Lord gives all sorts of pointers on how the role of an obedient nobleman's wife should be played - what she should wear, how she should speak and act, and what to do if Bart can't make himself cry on cue . The Lord is psyched about his practical joke and can't wait to see what will happen when Sly sees Bart dressed like a woman. Not wanting his servants to screw things up, the Lord runs off to the bedroom to supervise.

Shakespeare's play proper opens with Lucentio, a Florentine traveler who has come to study in Padua, and his servant Tranio. Upon their arrival, they see Baptista Minola, a rich gentleman of Padua, approaching with his two daughters, Katherine and her younger sister Bianca, as well as Gremio and Hortensio, both suitors to Bianca. Baptista is in the process of rejecting both suitors for Bianca because Katherine must wed before he will allow her younger sister to do so. Kate is a sharp-tongued young woman, and, based on the remarks of Hortensio and Gremio, it does not seem likely she will easily acquire a husband, thereby lessening their chances of ever being with Bianca. Both men agree to do their best to find Katherine a husband so that they may have a chance at winning the younger, more beautiful and desirable daughter, Bianca. Lucentio himself has fallen hopelessly in love with Bianca. Lucentio devises a plan to bring him closer to Bianca while appearing to honor her father's wishes: He proposes to disguise himself as a schoolmaster and thereby work his way into the Minola household. Tranio reminds his master that he is expected in Padua and, if he doesn't arrive, trouble will arise. As a remedy to this potential problem, Lucentio quickly dictates Tranio impersonate him while he is disguised as a tutor -- a ruse that is sure to work since no one in Padua has ever met either of them. Another of Lucentio's servants, Biondello, arrives and is confused at seeing Tranio dressed in his master's clothes. Lucentio tells Biondello Tranio has agreed to impersonate him because he has killed a man in Padua and his life is on the line.

As Act I opens, Shakespeare wastes no time in addressing themes that he has used to entice us in the Induction. Disguise, deception, love, marriage, and power all come to the forefront in this short but forceful scene. Baptista finds himself surrounded by an assortment of suitors for his younger daughter, Bianca, and forms the crux of the play's action by insisting on the time-honored tradition of the eldest child marrying first. Bianca quickly comes off as desirable, perfectly embodying everything men  deem as profitable in a woman: modesty, beauty, passivity. The obstacle standing in the way of the would-be suitors gaining the woman who would, quite literally, be their prize is her older and more boisterous sister: Katherine. When we meet Kate, she seems fairly innocuous. Upon hearing her father's decree that she marry before Bianca, Kate offers a witty reply, questioning whether her father will "make a stale of  amongst these mates?" . Her reply is telling in two regards. First, it shows her facility with language, a customarily male trait, setting her up outside the womanly norm. We know from her clever punning on the notion of a stalemate that she is not going to be a stereotypically "good" woman . Second, her remark reveals a bit about her judgment. Although we know from what Gremio and Hortensio say that Kate is perceived as devilish, headstrong, and wild, Kate's remarks reveal that she may not be as bad as they suggest. Her outright contempt for Bianca's would-be suitors is bold, to be sure, but not entirely unwarranted. In fact, in one light, it speaks well of her judgment. Although the male characters, especially Gremio and Hortensio, call Kate disparaging names such as "fiend of hell" , Shakespeare allows for the possibility that Kate is not as terrible as they would have us believe -- rather, she is independent and headstrong, but with some justifiable cause. Neither would make a good match for Kate: Gremio himself is termed "a pantaloon" , a foolish old man who is a stock character type in commedia dell'arte dramas. Hortensio, too, does not come off as a prize catch, although he is somewhat better than Gremio; Hortensio's personality, though, is weak and effeminate. In stark contrast to Kate stands her sister, Bianca. Her name alone evokes whiteness, purity, and other such ethereal connotations. The opening scene does much to stress Bianca's angelic whiteness, her purity, and her virginal nature. She is clearly Baptista's favored daughter and is able to inspire instant love and longing from the men who see her. She draws suitors young and old, and, were it not for her sister , she would have her pick of suitors. A woman who so readily inspires admiration through her beauty and her passivity, though, bears watching as the play unfolds. Act I, Scene 1 also introduces us to Baptista, the family patriarch. As the leader of the Minola family, he is in a precarious position. On one hand, he has a lovely daughter who inspires the admiration of men. With the right marriage, he could easily increase the family fortune and status. There is one impediment, however -- Katherine. As patriarch, Baptista knows the elder daughter is to marry first. As patriarch, he also has the option of disregarding convention. The risk? Potential public disgrace and ruin. However, the prospects for Kate do not look good, increasing the complexity of Baptista's position. While he waits for Kate to meet and marry her match, Baptista has the  good sense to provide for his daughters. His willingness to have them tutored in music, poetry, and other academic subjects speaks well of his role as a father. Lucentio, overhearing the whole exchange between Baptista, his daughters, and Bianca's would-be suitors, has fallen immediately in love with Bianca. Of course to us this seems entirely incredulous, but love at first sight is a common element to romantic farces such as The Taming of the Shrew. Lucentio, in fact, takes on elements of a stock character type himself: the courtly lover. In words reminiscent of Chaucer's "Knight's Tale" or the story of Pyramus and Thisbe, Lucentio recounts how the sudden sight of Bianca "hath thralled  wounded eye" . In keeping with the tradition of courtly love, Lucentio's wound is not initially in his heart, but in his eye, that organ through which he first espied his love. Lucentio borders on becoming a parody of courtly love as he provides a fairly full cataloguing of Bianca's beauty and its effect on him. He praises her modesty, as well as the "sweet beauty in her face" , "her coral lips" , her breath which did "perfume the air" , and her all around "sacred and sweet" nature . To his credit, he also feels the proper Petrarchan responses to Bianca's beauty. He laments that he burns, pines, and perishes , consumed by his aching love for Baptista's younger daughter. Lucentio becomes, in effect, the quintessential courtly lover and will later be starkly contrasted with not only Petruchio's motivation for marriage but also the primitive and powerful taming techniques Petruchio later uses. Finally, the important theme of disguise is also advanced in this scene. By the end of the scene, we have a total of four people assuming disguise . The disguises so far have been overt and sartorial in nature; people assume physical disguises in attempt to pass themselves off as someone else. Seeing so many people assuming identities reminds us that The Taming of the Shrew is a comedy of mistaken and disguised identity -- a theme that will become increasingly more complex  as the play unfolds. Glossary "Mi perdonate"  "Pardon me." Aristotle's checks  constraining philosophic study of Aristotle. balk logic  argue. affect  find pleasant. iwis  certainly; assuredly. "comb your noddle"  "rake your head." Minerva  the  goddess of wisdom, technical skill, and invention: identified with the Greek Athena. mew  confine in or as in a cage; shut up or conceal: often with up. "had as lief"  "would as willingly." "bar in law"  "legal impediment." Anna  confidante of her sister Dido, Queen of Carthage, beloved of Aeneas. "Redime te captum quam queas minimo"  "Buy yourself out of bondage for as little as you can." Daughter of Agenor  Europa, beloved of Jove. "Basta!"  "Enough!" port  the manner in which one carries oneself; carriage. "uncase thee"  get undressed.