The Taming of the Shrew Page #6

Pardon her, grandsire, and withal make known

Which way thou travellest:

If along with us,

We shall be joyful of thy company.

Fair sir, and you my merry mistress,

That with your strange encounter

much amaz'd me,

My name is calI'd Vincentio,

my dwelling Pisa.

Pisa, renowned for grave citizens,

And bound I am to Padua, there to visit

A son of mine, who long I have not seen.

He studies at the university -

His name is called Lucentio!

- Master.

- Biondello...

Shh.

Softly and swiftly, sir,

For even now the priest is marrying Hortensio

To the lusty widow of his choice,

And, once the church is emptied, hath agreed

To marry you in secret to your mistress.

We fly, Biondello.

Tell me, kind sir,

is this the house of one Lucentio?

Ay, but they are busy within

arguing over dowries.

You'd best knock louder.

Who's he that knocks

as he would beat down the door?

Is Signor Lucentio within, sir?

He's within, sir, but not to be spoken to withal.

I pray you tell Signor Lucentio that his father

is here at the door to speak with him.

Thou liest.

His father is here looking out at the window.

- Thou? His father?

- Ay, sir, so his mother says,

if I may believe her.

Why, how now, old gentleman!

This is flat knavery,

to take upon yourself another man's name.

Lay hands on the villain.

I believe he means to cheat somebody

in this city under my countenance.

Biondello. Biondello!

Help!

Come hither, crack-hemp.

My master's father, Lord Vincentio.

Come hither, you rogue.

What, have you forgot me?

Forgot you, sir? No, sir. No, sir.

I could not forget you, sir, for...

I never saw you before in all my life.

What, you notorious villain,

didst thou never see thy master's father?

Help! Son!

Sir, what are you that offer to beat my servant?

What am I, sir? Nay, what are you, sir?

O immortal gods! O fine villain!

What, a silken doublet, a velvet hose,

a scarlet cloak, and a sugar-loaf hat!

O... O, I am undone. O...

O, I am undone.

I am undone! My son and my servant

spend all at the university.

What, is the man lunatic?

Why, sir, what concerns it you

if I wear pearl and... and... and gold?

I thank my good father, I am able to maintain it.

Thy father?

His father's a sail-maker in Bergamo.

You mistake, sir, you mistake, sir.

Pray, what do you think is his name?

His name? As if I knew not his name!

I've brought him up ever since he was

three years old, and his name is Tranio.

Tranio?

Away, away, mad ass!

His name is Lucentio, and he is mine only son,

and heir to the lands of me.

Lucent...

Villain. O villain!

Villain! Villain!

My servant hath murdered my son!

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?

Call forth an officer.

Deny him, forswear him, sir,

or else we are all undone.

How dare you lay hands on me!

You will see, I shall protest the Duke.

He will punish home this cave of cozenage.

Pardon, sweet father.

Lives my sweet son.

Pardon, sweet father.

Husband, let's into my father's house.

First kiss me, Kate, and we will.

What, in the midst of the street?

What, art ashamed of me?

No, sir, God forbid;

but... ashamed to kiss.

- Why, then, let's home again.

- Nay, I will give thee a kiss.

Now pray thee, love, stay.

Grumio, my wine.

Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat!

Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio.

Padua affords nothing but what is kind.

For both our sakes I would that word were true.

I' faith, Hortensio feels the fear of his widow.

- I am not afeard.

- I mean Hortensio is afeard of you.

Your husband, being troubled with a shrew,

Measures my husband's trouble by his own.

And now you know my meaning.

- A very mean meaning.

- Right, I mean you.

- To her, Kate!

- To her, widow!

- A hundred crowns, my Kate will lay her flat.

- That's my office.

By your leave, my lords,

the ladies would withdraw.

Bianca.

Marry, Petruchio, I begin to wonder

If thou hast wed the veriest shrew of all.

I say no. And therefore for assurance

Let's each one send unto his wife,

And he whose wife is most obedient,

To come the moment he doth send for her,

Shall win the wager which we will propose.

Content.

- What was the wager?

- Two hundred crowns.

Two hundred crowns?

I'll venture so much on my hawk and hound,

But twenty times so much upon my wife.

So be it, then. Four thousand crowns.

Content?

Content.

- Who shall begin?

- That will I. Biondello?

Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me.

I will share half your stake Bianca comes.

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

How now, what news?

Sir, my mistress sends you word

That she is busy and she cannot come.

How? She is busy, and she cannot come?

Is that an answer?

Ay, and a kind one too.

- Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse.

- I hope for better.

Sirrah.

Sirrah.

Biondello, go and entreat my wife

To come to me... forthwith.

O ho, entreat her!

Nay, then she needs must come.

I am afraid, sir,

Do what you can, yours will not be entreated.

- Where is my wife?

- She will not come.

She bids you come to her.

Worse and worse, she will not come! O vile,

Intolerable, not to be endur'd!

Grumio, go to thy mistress,

Say I command her to come to me.

- I know her answer.

- What?

She will not come.

See where she comes.

- O, come, come, you're mocking.

- Nay, nay, I will not.

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.

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,

While thou liest warm at home,

secure and safe;

He craves no other tribute at thy hands

But love, fair looks,

and true obedience;

Too little payment... for so great a debt.

Such duty 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 when 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, you froward and unable worms.

Come.

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.

Come, 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.

Why, there's a wench!

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