Edited Script

Scene 1 (1.2.34-189)

HORTENSIO

Sweet friend, what happy gale

Blows you to Padua here from old Verona?

PETRUCHIO

Such wind as scatters young men through the world

To seek their fortunes farther than at home.

Antonio, my father, is deceased,

And so am come abroad to see the world.

HORTENSIO

Petruchio, shall I then wish thee to a shrewd, ill-favored wife?

I’ll promise thee she shall be rich,

But thou’rt my friend,

And I’ll not wish thee to her.

PETRUCHIO

Hortensio, I come to wive it wealthily in Padua.

HORTENSIO

Petruchio, I broached in jest.

I can help thee to a wife with wealth enough,

And young and beauteous.

Her only fault is that she is intolerable curst,

And shrewd and froward.

I would not wed her for a mine of gold.

PETRUCHIO

Hortensio, peace. Thou know’st not gold’s effect.

Tell me her father’s name.

HORTENSIO

Her father is Baptista Minola,

An affable and courteous gentleman.

Her name is Katherina Minola,

Renowned in Padua for her scolding tongue.

PETRUCHIO

I know her father, and he knew my deceasèd father well.

I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her,

And therefore let me be thus bold with you

To give you over at this first encounter,

Unless you will accompany me thither.

HORTENSIO

Petruchio, I must go with thee,

For in Baptista’s keep my treasure is.

He hath the jewel of my life in hold,

His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca.

Supposing it a thing impossible,

That ever Katherina will be wooed,

This order hath Baptista ta’en,

That none shall have access unto Bianca

Till Katherine the curst have got a husband.

Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace,

And offer me disguised in sober robes

To old Baptista as a schoolmaster to instruct Bianca,

That so I may have leave to, unsuspected, court her by herself.

Enter Gremio

HORTENSIO

(to Petruchio) It is the rival of my love.

God save you, Signior Gremio.

GREMIO

And you, Signior Hortensio.

I am going to Baptista Minola.

I promised to enquire carefully

About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca,

And by good fortune I have lighted well

On a young man, for learning and behavior fit for her turn.

HORTENSIO

‘Tis well. And I have met a gentleman

Hath promised me to help me,

A fine musician to instruct fair Bianca, so beloved of me.

GREMIO

Beloved of me, and that my deeds shall prove.

HORTENSIO

Gremio, ’tis now no time to vent our love.

Listen, I’ll tell you news good for either.

(presenting Petruchio) Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met,

Upon agreement, will undertake to woo curst Katherine,

And to marry her, if her dowry please.

GREMIO

Hortensio, have you told him all her faults?

PETRUCHIO

I know she is an irksome brawling scold.

If that be all, masters, I hear no harm.

GREMIO

No? What countryman?

PETRUCHIO

Born in Verona, old Antonio’s son.

My father dead, my fortune lives for me.

And I do hope good days and long to see.

GREMIO

O sir, such a life with such a wife were strange!

But you shall have me assisting you in all.

Will you woo this wildcat?

PETRUCHIO

Why came I hither but to that intent?

Think you a little din can daunt mine ears?

Have I not in my time heard lions roar?

Have I not heard the sea

Rage like an angry boar?

Have I not heard heaven’s artillery thunder in the skies?

GREMIO

Hortensio, hark.

This gentleman is happily arrived,

My mind presumes, for his own good and ours.

HORTENSIO

I promised we would be contributors

And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe’er.

GREMIO

And so we will, provided that he win her.

Scene 2 (2.1.1-320)

BIANCA

Good sister, what you will command me will I do,

So well I know my duty to my elders.

KATHERINE

Of all thy suitors here I charge thee tell

Whom thou lovest best.

BIANCA

Believe me, sister, of all the men alive

I never yet beheld that special face

Which I could fancy more than any other.

KATHERINE

Minion, thou liest. Is ’t not Hortensio?

BIANCA

If you affect him, sister, here I swear

I’ll plead for you myself, but you shall have him.

KATHERINE

Oh, then belike you fancy riches more.

You will have Gremio to keep you fair.

BIANCA

Is it for him you do envy me so?

Nay, and now I well perceive

You have but jested with me all this while.

Untie my hands.

Katherine strikes Bianca.

KATHERINE

If that be jest, then all the rest was so.

Enter Baptista.

BAPTISTA

Why, how now, dame! whence grows this insolence?—

Bianca, stand aside.—Poor girl, she weeps!

(to Bianca) Go, meddle not with her.

(to Katherine) For shame, thou devilish spirit!

Why dost thou wrong her that did ne’er wrong thee?

When did she cross thee with a bitter word?

KATHERINE

Her silence flouts me, and I’ll be revenged.

Rushes towards Bianca as if to strike her.

BAPTISTA

What, in my sight?—Bianca, get thee in.

Bianca exits.

KATHERINE

What, will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see

She is your treasure, she must have a husband,

I must dance barefoot on her wedding day

Talk not to me. I will go sit and weep

Till I can find occasion of revenge.

Katherine exits.

BAPTISTA

Was ever gentleman thus grieved as I?

But who comes here?

Enter Petruchio and Hortensio (in disguise).

God save you, gentlemen!

PETRUCHIO

And you, good sir. Pray, have you not a daughter

Called Katherina, fair and virtuous?

BAPTISTA

I have a daughter, sir, called Katherina.

PETRUCHIO

I am a gentleman of Verona, sir,

That hearing of her beauty and her wit,

Her wondrous qualities and mild behavior,

Am bold to show myself a forward guest

Within your house, to make mine eye the witness

Of that report which I so oft have heard.

And I do present you with a man of mine,

(presenting Hortensio, in disguise)

Cunning in music and the mathematics.

Accept him, or else you do me wrong.

BAPTISTA

You’re welcome, sir, and he for your good sake.

But for my daughter Katherine, this I know,

She is not for your turn, the more my grief.

PETRUCHIO

I see you do not mean to part with her,

Or else you like not of my company.

BAPTISTA

Mistake me not. I speak but as I find.

Whence are you, sir? What may I call your name?

PETRUCHIO

Petruchio is my name, Antonio’s son,

A man well known throughout all Italy.

BAPTISTA

I know him well.

(to Hortensio) Take you the lute, go see your pupil.

Hortensio exits.

(To Petruchio) We will go walk a little in the orchard,

And then to dinner.

PETRUCHIO

Signior Baptista,

you knew my father well, and in him me,

Left solely heir to all his lands and goods,

Which I have bettered rather than decreased.

Then tell me, if I get your daughter’s love,

What dowry shall I have with her to wife?

BAPTISTA

After my death, the one half of my lands,

And, in possession, twenty thousand crowns.

PETRUCHIO

And, for that dowry, I’ll assure her of

Her widowhood, be it that she survive me,

BAPTISTA

Ay, when the special thing is well obtained,

That is, her love, for that is all in all.

PETRUCHIO

Why, that is nothing.

So she yields to me,

For I am rough and woo not like a babe.

BAPTISTA

Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed.

But be thou armed for some unhappy words.

PETRUCHIO

Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds,

That shakes not, though they blow perpetually

Enter Hortensio, with his head cut and bleeding

BAPTISTA

How now, my friend, why dost thou look so pale?

HORTENSIO

For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.

BAPTISTA

What, will my daughter prove a good musician?

HORTENSIO

I think she’ll sooner prove a soldier.

Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.

BAPTISTA

Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute?

HORTENSIO

Why, no, for she hath broke the lute to me.

I did but tell her she mistook her frets,

And bowed her hand to teach her fingering,

When, with a most impatient devilish spirit,

“’Frets’ call you these?” quoth she. “I’ll fume with them!”

And with that word she struck me on the head,

And through the instrument my pate made way,

And there I stood amazèd for a while

While she did call me “rascal fiddler”

And “twangling Jack”; with twenty such vile terms,

As had she studied to misuse me so.

PETRUCHIO

Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench.

I love her ten times more than e’er I did.

Oh, how I long to have some chat with her!

BAPTISTA

Signior Petruchio, shall I send my daughter Kate to you?

PETRUCHIO

I pray you do.

Petruchio stays; everyone else exits.

I’ll attend her here

And woo her with some spirit when she comes.

Say that she rail; then I’ll tell her

She sings as sweetly as a nightingale.

Say she be mute and will not speak a word;

Then I’ll commend her volubility,

And say she uttereth piercing eloquence.

But here she comes—and now, Petruchio, speak.

Katherine enters.

Good morrow, Kate—for that’s your name, I hear.

KATHERINE

Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing.

They call me Katherine that do talk of me.

PETRUCHIO

You lie, in faith, for you are called plain Kate,

And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst,

But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,

Take this of me: hearing thy mildness praised in every town,

Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded—

Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.

KATHERINE

“Moved,” in good time. Let him that moved you hither

Remove you hence. I knew you at the first

You were a moveable.

PETRUCHIO

    Why, what’s a moveable?

KATHERINE

A joint stool.

PETRUCHIO

   Thou hast hit it. Come, sit on me.

KATHERINE

Asses are made to bear, and so are you.

PETRUCHIO

Women are made to bear, and so are you.

KATHERINE

No such jade as you, if me you mean.

PETRUCHIO

Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee,

For knowing thee to be but young and light—

KATHERINE

Too light for such a swain as you to catch,

And yet as heavy as my weight should be.

PETRUCHIO

“Should be”—should buzz!

KATHERINE

    Well ta’en, and like a buzzard.

PETRUCHIO

O slow-winged turtle, shall a buzzard take thee?

KATHERINE

Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.

PETRUCHIO

Come, come, you wasp. You are too angry.

KATHERINE

If I be waspish, best beware my sting.

PETRUCHIO

My remedy is then to pluck it out.

KATHERINE

Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies.

PETRUCHIO

Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting?

In his tail.

KATHERINE

In his tongue.

PETRUCHIO

   Whose tongue?

KATHERINE

Yours, if you talk of tales. And so farewell.

PETRUCHIO

What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again,

Good Kate. I am a gentleman.

KATHERINE

That I’ll try.

She strikes him.

PETRUCHIO

I swear I’ll cuff you if you strike again.

KATHERINE

So may you lose your arms.

If you strike me, you are no gentleman;

And if no gentleman, why then no arms.

PETRUCHIO

Nay, come, Kate, come. You must not look so sour.

KATHERINE

It is my fashion, when I see a crab.

PETRUCHIO

Why, here’s no crab, and therefore look not sour.

KATHERINE

There is, there is.

PETRUCHIO

Then show it me.

KATHERINE

Had I a glass, I would.

PETRUCHIO

What, you mean my face?

KATHERINE

Well aimed of such a young one.

PETRUCHIO

I am too young for you.

KATHERINE

Yet you are withered.

PETRUCHIO

    ’Tis with cares.

KATHERINE

     I care not.

PETRUCHIO

Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth you ’scape not so.

KATHERINE

I chafe you, if I tarry. Let me go.

PETRUCHIO

No, not a whit. I find you passing gentle.

‘Twas told you were rough and coy and sullen,

And now I find thou are pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous.

O slanderous world! Kate like the hazel-twig

Is straight and slender.

KATHERINE

Go, fool, and whom thou keep’st command.

PETRUCHIO

Sweet Katherine,

in plain terms: your father hath consented

That you shall be my wife, your dowry ‘greed on,

And I will marry you.

For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty,

Thy beauty that doth make me like thee well,

Thou must be married to no man but me.

For I am he am born to tame you, Kate,

And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate

Conformable as other household Kates.

Baptista enters.

BAPTISTA

Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?

PETRUCHIO

How but well, sir? How but well?

It were impossible I should speed amiss.

BAPTISTA

Why, how now, daughter Katherine? In your dumps?

KATHERINE

Call you me daughter? Now, I promise you

You have showed a tender fatherly regard

To wish me wed to one half lunatic.

PETRUCHIO

Father, yourself and all the world

have talked amiss of her.

If she be curst, it is for policy,

For she’s not froward, but modest as the dove.

She is not hot, but temperate as the morn.

We have ‘greed so well together,

That upon Sunday is the wedding day.

KATHERINE

I’ll see thee hanged on Sunday first.

PETRUCHIO

’Tis incredible to believe how much she loves me.

She hung about my neck, and kiss on kiss

That in a wink she won me to her love.

I will buy apparel ‘gainst the wedding day.

Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests.

BAPTISTA

I know not what to say, but give me your hands.

God send you joy, Petruchio. ‘Tis a match.

PETRUCHIO

Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu.

We will have rings, and things, and fine array,

And kiss me, Kate. We will be married o’ Sunday.

Katherine and Petruchio exit in opposite directions.

Scene 3 (3.2.1-120)

BAPTISTA

Signior Lucentio, this is the ‘pointed day

And yet we hear not of our son-in-law.

What will be said? What mockery will it be,

To want the bridegroom when the priest attends

To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage?

What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?

KATHERINE

No shame but mine. I must, forsooth, be forced

To give my hand, opposed against my heart,

Unto a mad-brain rudesby,

Who wooed in haste and means to wed at leisure.

I told you he was a frantic fool,

Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behavior.

Now must the world point at poor Katherine

And say, “Lo, there is mad Petruchio’s wife,

If it would please him come and marry her!”

LUCENTIO

Patience, upon my life, Petruchio means but well,

Whatever fortune stays him from his word.

KATHERINE

Would Katherine had never seen him, though!

She exits, weeping.

BAPTISTA

I cannot blame thee now to weep,

For such an injury would vex a very saint,

Much more a shrew of thy impatient humor.

Enter Petruchio.

PETRUCHIO

Come, where be these gallants? Who’s at home?

BAPTISTA

You are welcome, sir.

PETRUCHIO

And yet I come not well.

BAPTISTA

And yet you halt not.

LUCENTIO

Not so well appareled as I wish you were.

PETRUCHIO

Were it better I should rush in thus—

But where is Kate? Where is my love?

Gentles, methinks you frown.

BAPTISTA

Why, sir, you know this is your wedding day.

First were we sad, fearing you would not come,

Now sadder that you come so unprovided.

An eyesore to our solemn festival.

LUCENTIO

And tell us what occasion of import

Hath all so long detained you from your wife

And sent you hither so unlike yourself.

PETRUCHIO

Tedious it were to tell and harsh to hear.

Sufficeth I am come to keep my word,

Where is Kate? The morning wears.

‘Tis time we were at church.

LUCENTIO

See not your bride in these unreverent robes.

Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine.

PETRUCHIO

Not I, believe me. Thus I’ll visit her.

BAPTISTA

But thus, I trust, you will not marry her.

PETRUCHIO

Even thus. To me she’s married, not unto my clothes.

I should bid good morrow to my bride

And seal the title with a lovely kiss!

Petruchio hurries off.

BAPTISTA

He hath some meaning in his mad attire.

We will persuade him

To put on better ere he go to church.

Baptista and Lucentio exit.

Scene 4 (3.2.179-240)

PETRUCHIO

Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains.

I know you think to dine with me today

And have prepared great store of wedding cheer,

But my haste doth call me hence,

And therefore I mean to take my leave.

BAPTISTA

You will away tonight?

PETRUCHIO

I must away today, before night come.

If you knew my business,

you would entreat me rather go than stay.

I thank you all, that have beheld me give away myself

To this most patient, sweet and virtuous wife.

Farewell to you all.

LUCENTIO

Let us entreat you stay till after dinner.

PETRUCHIO

It may not be.

GREMIO

   Let me entreat you.

PETRUCHIO

It cannot be.

KATHERINE

   Let me entreat you.

PETRUCHIO

I am content.

KATHERINE

To stay?

PETRUCHIO

I am content you shall entreat me stay,

But yet not stay, entreat me how you can.

KATHERINE

Now, if you love me, stay.

PETRUCHIO

    Grumio, my horse.

GRUMIO

Ay, sir, they be ready.

KATHERINE

Nay, then, I will not go today, nor tomorrow.

The door is open, sir. There lies your way.

For me, I’ll not be gone till I please myself.

PETRUCHIO

O Kate, prithee, be not angry.

KATHERINE

I will be angry. What hast thou to do?—

GREMIO

Ay, now it begins.

KATHERINE

Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner.

I see a woman may be made a fool

If she had not a spirit to resist.

PETRUCHIO

They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command.—

Obey the bride, go to the feast, revel and be merry.

But for my bonny Kate, she must with me.

I will be master of what is mine own.

She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house,

My household stuff, my field, my barn,

My horse, my ox, my ass, my anything.

Touch her whoever dare.

Grumio, draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with thieves.

Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch thee, Kate.

I’ll buckler thee against a million.

Katherine, Petruchio, and Grumio exit.

BAPTISTA

A couple of quiet ones.

GREMIO

Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing.

LUCENTIO

Of all mad matches never was the like.

Scene 5 (4.1.96-188)

PETRUCHIO

What, no attendance? No regard? No duty?

Where is the foolish knave I sent before?

Grumio and a servant enter.

GRUMIO

Here, sir, as foolish as I was before.

PETRUCHIO

You peasant swain!

Go, and fetch my supper in.

Grumio exits.

Sit down, Kate, and welcome.—

Grumio enters with dinner.

Off with my boots, you rogue!

The servant tries to take off Petruchio’s boots.

Out, you rogue! You pluck my foot awry.

Strikes him

Be merry, Kate.—Some water, here!

Shall I have some water?—

The servant brings water.

You whoreson villain! You let it fall!

Strikes him

KATHERINE

Patience, I pray you! ‘Twas a fault unwilling.

PETRUCHIO

A whoreson, beetle-headed, flap-eared knave!—

Come, Kate, sit down.

What’s this? Mutton?

SERVANT

Ay.

PETRUCHIO

‘Tis burnt, and so is all the meat.

How durst you, villain, serve it thus to me?

There, take it, trenchers, cups, and all!

Throws the dinner all around.

You heedless jolthead and unmannered slave!

What, do you grumble? I’ll be with you straight.

Servant exits.

KATHERINE

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.

Better that both of us fast.

Be patient, tomorrow ’t shall be mended,

And, for this night, we’ll fast.

Come, to thy bridal chamber.

They exit. The servant enters.

SERVANT

Ever see the like?

He kills her in her own humor.

GRUMIO

He is in her chamber,

Making a sermon 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!

Petruchio returns; they rush out.

PETRUCHIO

Thus have I politicly begun my reign,

And ’tis my hope to end successfully.

My falcon now is sharp and passing empty,

I must make her come and know her keeper’s call.

She ate no meat today, nor none shall eat.

Last night she slept not, nor tonight 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.

And amid this hurly, I intend

That all is done in reverend care of her.

And if she chance to nod I’ll rail and brawl,

And with the clamor keep her still awake.

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.

Scene 6 (5.2.56-163)

BAPTISTA

Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio,

I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.

PETRUCHIO

Well, for assurance, let’s each one send unto his wife;

And he whose wife is most obedient

Shall win the wager which we will propose.

HORTENSIO

Content. What’s the wager?

LUCENTIO

Twenty crowns.

PETRUCHIO

Twenty crowns?

I’ll venture 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 exits.

BAPTISTA

Son, I’ll be your half Bianca comes.

LUCENTIO

I’ll have no halves. I’ll bear it all myself.

Biondello returns.

How now, what news?

BIONDELLO

Sir, my mistress sends you word

That she is busy, and cannot come.

PETRUCHIO

How! “She’s busy, and she cannot come!”

Is that an answer?

BAPTISTA

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.

Biondello goes.

PETRUCHIO

O, ho, entreat her!

Nay, then she must come.

HORTENSIO

I am afraid, sir, do what you can, yours will not be entreated.

Biondello returns.

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.

Biondello exits.

PETRUCHIO

Worse and worse. O vile, intolerable, not to be endured!—

Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress,

Say I command her to come to me.

Grumio exits.

HORTENSIO

I know her answer.

PETRUCHIO

   What?

HORTENSIO

    She will not.

Katherine enters.

BAPTISTA

Here comes Katherina!

KATHERINE

What is your will, sir, that you send for me?

PETRUCHIO

Where is your sister, and Hortensio’s wife?

KATHERINE

They sit conferring by the parlor fire.

PETRUCHIO

Go fetch them hither straight.

Katherine exits.

LUCENTIO

Here is a wonder.

HORTENSIO

And so it is. I wonder what it bodes.

PETRUCHIO

Peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life,

And awful rule, and right supremacy,

And, to be short, what not that’s sweet and happy?

BAPTISTA

Good Petruchio, the wager thou hast won,

and I will add twenty thousand crowns,

Another dowry to another daughter,

For she is changed as she had never been.

PETRUCHIO

Nay, I will win my wager better yet,

And show more sign of her new-built virtue.

Katherine, Bianca, and the Widow enter.

Katherine, that cap of yours becomes you not.

Off with that bauble, throw it underfoot.

Katherine removes the cap quickly.

BIANCA

What a foolish duty call you this?

LUCENTIO

I would your duty were as foolish too.

The wisdom of your duty hath cost me an hundred crowns since suppertime.

BIANCA

The more fool you.

PETRUCHIO

Katherine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women

what duty they owe their lords and husbands.

BIANCA

Come, come, you’re mocking.

PETRUCHIO

Come on, I say, and begin with her.

KATHERINE

Unknit that threat’ning unkind brow

And dart not scornful glances from those eyes

To wound thy lord.

It blots thy beauty, confounds thy fame,

And in no sense is amiable.

A woman moved is like a fountain muddy,

And none so dry or thirsty will deign to sip or touch one drop of it.

Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,

One that cares for thee,

And for thy maintenance commits his body

To painful labor 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.

Advertisements