That, upon knowledge of my parentage, I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo, And, toward the education of your daughters, And this small packet of Greek and Latin books: Bap. Lucentio is your name? of whence, I pray? Bap. A mighty man of Pisa: by report I know him well, You are very welcome, Sir.. Take you [To HOR.] the lute, and you [To Luc.] the set of books; You shall go see your pupils presently. Holla, within! Enter a Servant. Sirrah, lead these gentlemen To my daughters; and tell them both, These are their tutors: bid them use them well. [Exit Servant, with HORTENSIO, LUCENTIO, We will go walk a little in the orchard, And then to dinner. You are passing welcome, And so I pray you all to think yourselves. Pet. Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste, And every day I cannot come to woo. You knew my father well, and in him, me, -- Bap. After my death, the one half of my lands, and Bap. Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd, Pet. Why, that is nothing; for I tell you, father, For I am rough, and woo not like a babe. Bap. Well may'st thou woo, and happy be thy speed! But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words. Pet. Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds, That shake not, though they blow perpetually. Re-enter HORTENSIO, with his head broken. Bap. How now, my friend! why dost thou look so pale? Hor. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good musician? Hor. I think, she 'll sooner prove a soldier: Iron may hold with her, but never lutes. Bap. Why, then thou can'st not break her to the lute? Hor. Why no, for she hath broke the lute to me. I did but tell her she mistook her frets, And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering, When, with a most impatient, devilish spirit, "Frets, call you these?" quoth she; "I'll fume with them: " And with that word she struck me on the head, And through the instrument my pate made way; As on a pillory looking through the lute, And twangling Jack; with twenty such vile terms, Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench! I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her! . Bap. Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited: She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns. Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you? Pet. I pray you do; I will attend her here, [Exeunt BAPTISTA, Gremio, TRANIO, and HORTENSIO And woo her with some spirit when she comes. Say, that she frown; I'll say, she looks as clear And say, she uttereth piercing eloquence: Enter KATHARINA. Good-morrow, Kate, for that's your name, I hear. Kath. Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing: They call me Katharine, that do talk of me. Pet. You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain Kate, And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst; Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife. Kath. Mov'd! in good time: let him that mov'd you hither, Remove you hence. I knew you at the first, You were a moveable. Pet. Kath. A joint-stool. Why, what's a moveable? Pet. Kath. Too light for such a swain as you to catch, Pet. Should be? should buz. sit on me. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard. Pet. O, slow-wing'd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee? Kath. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard. Pet. Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry, Pet. My remedy is, then, to pluck it out. In his tail. Kath. Pet. In his tongue. Whose tongue? Kath. Yours, if you talk of tails; and so farewell. Pet. What! with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again: Good Kate, I am a gentleman. Kath. That I'll try. Pet. I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again, Kath. So may you lose your arms: If you strike me you are no gentleman, [Striking him. Pet. A herald, Kate? O! put me in thy books. Kath. What is your crest? a coxcomb? Pet. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen. Kath. No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven. Pet. Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour. Kath. It is my fashion when I see a crab. Pet. Why, here's no crab, and therefore look not sour. Pet. Then show it me. Kath. Had I a glass, I would. Well aim'd of such a young one. Pet. What, you mean my face? Pet. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you. Kath. Yet you are wither'd. Pet. Kath. 'Tis with cares. I care not. Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth, you 'scape not so. Kath. I chafe you, if I tarry: let me go. Pet. No, not a whit: I find you passing gentle. 'T was told me, you were rough, and coy, and sullen, For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous, Kath. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command. As Kate this chamber with her princely gait? Kath. Where did you study all this goodly speech? |