Padua. Before Baptista’s house.
(Baptista; Gremio; Tranio; Katherina; Bianca; Lucentio; Attendants; Biondello; Petruchio; Grumio; Hortensio)
On Kate and Petruchio’s wedding say, Petruchio still hasn’t shown up. Katherina is deeply shamed by the fact that not only is she to be wed but her groom might leave her standing at the altar. Even her father is sympathetic. The servant Biondello arrives with the news that Petruchio is on his way, but dressed like a penniless madman. He arrives and despite everyone’s protests marches into church dressed as he is, pointing out that Katherina is not marrying his clothes. Tranio informs Lucentio that they need to find him a father, and quick. Gremio comes out of the church and reports that Petruchio went through the marriage ceremony like a brute, swearing, hitting the priest, calling for wine, and otherwise making Katherina seem downright docile. The wedding party comes out, and Petruchio tells them to go and have the wedding feast without him. Refusing to stay, he insists that Katherina follow him away; when she protests, he carries her off. People can’t help but laugh and admit they’re a well-matched couple, and they all go in to the feast, Baptista letting Tranio and Bianca take the places of honor. (227 lines)
Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio as Lucentio, Katherine, Bianca, Lucentio as Cambio, and others, attendants.
Signior Lucentio, this is the ’pointed day,
That Katherine and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we hear not of our son-in-law.
What will be said? What mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage?
What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?
No shame but mine. I must forsooth be forc’d
To give my hand oppos’d against my heart
Unto a mad-brain rudesby full of spleen,
Who woo’d in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
I told you, I, he was a frantic fool,
Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behavior;
And to be noted for a merry man,
He’ll woo a thousand, ’point the day of marriage,
Make friends, invite, and proclaim the banes,
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo’d.
Now must the world point at poor Katherine,
And say, “Lo, there is mad Petruchio’s wife,
If it would please him come and marry her!”
Patience, good Katherine, and Baptista too.
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
Whatever fortune stays him from his word.
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise;
Though he be merry, yet withal he’s honest.
Would Katherine had never seen him though!
Exit weeping followed by Bianca and others.
Go, girl, I cannot blame thee now to weep,
For such an injury would vex a very saint,
Much more a shrew of thy impatient humor.
Master, master, news, old news, and such news as you never heard of!
Is it new and old too? How may that be?
Why, is it not news to hear of Petruchio’s coming?
Is he come?
Why, no, sir.
He is coming.
When will he be here?
When he stands where I am, and sees you there.
But say, what to thine old news?
Why, Petruchio is coming in a new hat and an old jerkin; a pair of old breeches thrice turn’d; a pair of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled, another lac’d; an old rusty sword ta’en out of the town armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless; with two broken points; his horse hipp’d, with an old mothy saddle and stirrups of no kindred; besides, possess’d with the glanders and like to mose in the chine, troubled with the lampass, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls, sped with spavins, ray’d with the yellows, past cure of the fives, stark spoil’d with the staggers, begnawn with the bots, sway’d in the back, and shoulder-shotten, near-legg’d before, and with a half-cheek’d bit and a head-stall of sheep’s leather, which being restrain’d to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repair’d with knots; one girth six times piec’d, and a woman’s crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her name fairly set down in studs, and here and there piec’d with packthread.
Who comes with him?
O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparison’d like the horse; with a linen stock on one leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, gart’red with a red and blue list; an old hat, and the humor of forty fancies prick’d in’t for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian footboy or a gentleman’s lackey.
’Tis some odd humor pricks him to this fashion;
Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell’d.
I am glad he’s come, howsoe’er he comes.
Why, sir, he comes not.
Didst thou not say he comes?
Who? That Petruchio came?
Ay, that Petruchio came.
No, sir, I say his horse comes, with him on his back.
Why, that’s all one.
Nay, by Saint Jamy,
I hold you a penny,
A horse and a man
Is more than one,
And yet not many.
Enter Petruchio and Grumio.
Come, where be these gallants? Who’s at home?
You are welcome, sir.
And yet I come not well.
And yet you halt not.
Not so well apparell’d
As I wish you were.
Were it better I should rush in thus:
Pretends great excitement.
But where is Kate? Where is my lovely bride?
How does my father?—Gentles, methinks you frown,
And wherefore gaze this goodly company,
As if they saw some wondrous monument,
Some comet or unusual prodigy?
Why, sir, you know this is your wedding-day.
First were we sad, fearing you would not come,
Now sadder, that you come so unprovided.
Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate,
An eye-sore to our solemn festival!
And tell us what occasion of import
Hath all so long detain’d you from your wife,
And sent you hither so unlike yourself?
Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear—
Sufficeth I am come to keep my word,
Though in some part enforced to digress,
Which at more leisure I will so excuse
As you shall well be satisfied with all.
But where is Kate? I stay too long from her.
The morning wears, ’tis time we were at church.
See not your bride in these unreverent robes,
Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine.
Not I, believe me, thus I’ll visit her.
But thus, I trust, you will not marry her.
Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha’ done with words;
To me she’s married, not unto my clothes.
Could I repair what she will wear in me,
As I can change these poor accoutrements,
’Twere well for Kate, and better for myself.
But what a fool am I to chat with you,
When I should bid good morrow to my bride,
And seal the title with a lovely kiss!
Exit with Grumio.
He hath some meaning in his mad attire.
We will persuade him, be it possible,
To put on better ere he go to church.
I’ll after him, and see the event of this.
Exit with Gremio and Attendants.
But, sir, love concerneth us to add
Her father’s liking, which to bring to pass,
As before imparted to your worship,
I am to get a man—what e’er he be,
It skills not much, we’ll fit him to our turn—
And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa,
And make assurance here in Padua
Of greater sums than I have promised.
So shall you quietly enjoy your hope,
And marry sweet Bianca with consent.
Were it not that my fellow schoolmaster
Doth watch Bianca’s steps so narrowly,
’Twere good methinks to steal our marriage,
Which once perform’d, let all the world say no,
I’ll keep mine own, despite of all the world.
That by degrees we mean to look into,
And watch our vantage in this business.
We’ll overreach the greybeard, Gremio,
The narrow-prying father, Minola,
The quaint musician, amorous Litio,
All for my master’s sake, Lucentio.
Signior Gremio, came you from the church?
As willingly as e’er I came from school.
And is the bride and bridegroom coming home?
A bridegroom, say you? ’Tis a groom indeed,
A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find.
Curster than she? Why, ’tis impossible.
Why, he’s a devil, a devil, a very fiend.
Why, she’s a devil, a devil, the devil’s dam.
Tut, she’s a lamb, a dove, a fool to him!
I’ll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest
Should ask if Katherine should be his wife,
“Ay, by gogs-wouns,” quoth he, and swore so loud,
That all amaz’d the priest let fall the book,
And as he stoop’d again to take it up,
This mad-brain’d bridegroom took him such a cuff
That down fell priest and book, and book and priest.
“Now take them up,” quoth he, “if any list.”
What said the wench when he rose again?
Trembled and shook; for why, he stamp’d and swore
As if the vicar meant to cozen him.
But after many ceremonies done,
He calls for wine. “A health!” quoth he, as if
He had been aboard, carousing to his mates
After a storm, quaff’d off the muscadel,
And threw the sops all in the sexton’s face,
Having no other reason
But that his beard grew thin and hungerly,
And seem’d to ask him sops as he was drinking.
This done, he took the bride about the neck,
And kiss’d her lips with such a clamorous smack
That at the parting all the church did echo.
And I seeing this, came thence for very shame,
And after me I know the rout is coming.
Such a mad marriage never was before.
Hark, hark, I hear the minstrels play.
Enter Petruchio, Kate, Bianca, Hortensio as Litio, Baptista, Grumio, and Train.
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 so it is, my haste doth call me hence,
And therefore here I mean to take my leave.
Is’t possible you will away tonight?
I must away today, before night come.
Make it no wonder; if you knew my business,
You would entreat me rather go than stay.
And, honest company, I thank you all
That have beheld me give away myself
To this most patient, sweet, and virtuous wife.
Dine with my father, drink a health to me,
For I must hence, and farewell to you all.
Let us entreat you stay till after dinner.
It may not be.
Let me entreat you.
It cannot be.
Let me entreat you.
I am content.
Are you content to stay?
I am content you shall entreat me stay,
But yet not stay, entreat me how you can.
Now if you love me stay.
Grumio, my horse.
Ay, sir, they be ready; the oats have eaten the horses.
Do what thou canst, I will not go today,
No, nor tomorrow—not till I please myself.
The door is open, sir, there lies your way;
You may be jogging whiles your boots are green.
For me, I’ll not be gone till I please myself.
’Tis like you’ll prove a jolly surly groom,
That take it on you at the first so roundly.
O Kate, content thee, prithee be not angry.
I will be angry; what hast thou to do?
Father, be quiet, he shall stay my leisure.
Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work.
Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner.
I see a woman may be made a fool,
If she had not a spirit to resist.
They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command.
Obey the bride, you that attend on her.
Go to the feast, revel and domineer,
Carouse full measure to her maidenhead,
Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves;
But for my bonny Kate, she must with me.
Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret,
I will be master of what is mine own.
She is my goods, my chattels, she is my house,
My household stuff, my field, my barn,
My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing;
And here she stands, touch her whoever dare,
I’ll bring mine action on the proudest he
That stops my way in Padua. Grumio,
Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with thieves;
Rescue thy mistress if thou be a man
Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch thee, Kate!
I’ll buckler thee against a million.
Exeunt Petruchio, Katherina, and Grumio.
Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones.
Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing.
Of all mad matches never was the like.
Mistress, what’s your opinion of your sister?
That being mad herself, she’s madly mated.
I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated.
Neighbors and friends, though bride and bridegroom wants
For to supply the places at the table,
You know there wants no junkets at the feast.
Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom’s place,
And let Bianca take her sister’s room.
Shall sweet Bianca practice how to bride it?
She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, let’s go.