thankful for good turns.
Signior Petruchio, will you go with us,
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?
Pet.
I pray you do. I’ll attend her here,
Exit [Baptista with Gremio, Tranio, and Hortensio]. Manet Petruchio.
And woo her with some spirit when she comes.
Say that she rail, why then I’ll tell her plain
She sings as sweetly as a nightingale;
Say that she frown, I’ll say she looks as clear
As morning roses newly wash’d with dew;
Say she be mute, and will not speak a word,
Then I’ll commend her volubility,
And say she uttereth piercing eloquence;
If she do bid me pack, I’ll give her thanks,
As though she bid me stay by her a week;
If she deny to wed, I’ll crave the day
When I shall ask the banes, and when be married.
But here she comes, and now, Petruchio, speak.
Enter Katherina.
Good morrow, Kate, for that’s your name, I hear.
Kath.
Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:
They call me Katherine 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;
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,
Kate of Kate-Hall, my super-dainty Kate,
For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate,
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation—
Hearing thy mildness prais’d in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,
Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,
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.
Why, what’s a moveable?
Kath.
A join’d-stool.
Pet.
Thou hast hit it; come sit on me.
Kath.
Asses are made to bear, and so are you.
Pet.
Women are made to bear, and so are you.
Kath.
No such jade as you, if me you mean.
Pet.
Alas, good Kate, I will not burthen thee,
For knowing thee to be but young and light.
Kath.
Too light for such a swain as you to catch,
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.
Pet.
Should be! should—buzz!
Kath.
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.
Kath.
If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
Pet.
My remedy is then to pluck it out.
Kath.
Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies.
Pet.
Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting?
In his tail.
Kath.
In his tongue.
Pet.
Whose tongue?
Kath.
Yours, if you talk of tales, 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.
She strikes him.
Pet.
I swear I’ll cuff you, if you strike again.
Kath.
