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Tra.

      Softly, my masters! If you be gentlemen,

      Do me this right: hear me with patience.

      Baptista is a noble gentleman,

      To whom my father is not all unknown,

      And were his daughter fairer than she is,

      She may more suitors have, and me for one.

      Fair Leda’s daughter had a thousand wooers,

      Then well one more may fair Bianca have;

      And so she shall. Lucentio shall make one,

      Though Paris came in hope to speed alone.

       Gre.

      What, this gentleman will out-talk us all.

       Luc.

      Sir, give him head, I know he’ll prove a jade.

       Pet.

      Hortensio, to what end are all these words?

       Hor.

      Sir, let me be so bold as ask you,

      Did you yet ever see Baptista’s daughter?

       Tra.

      No, sir, but hear I do that he hath two:

      The one as famous for a scolding tongue,

      As is the other for beauteous modesty.

       Pet.

      Sir, sir, the first’s for me, let her go by.

       Gre.

      Yea, leave that labor to great Hercules,

      And let it be more than Alcides’ twelve.

       Pet.

      Sir, understand you this of me, in sooth:

      The youngest daughter, whom you hearken for,

      Her father keeps from all access of suitors,

      And will not promise her to any man,

      Until the elder sister first be wed.

      The younger then is free, and not before.

       Tra.

      If it be so, sir, that you are the man

      Must stead us all, and me amongst the rest;

      And if you break the ice, and do this [feat],

      Achieve the elder, set the younger free

      For our access—whose hap shall be to have her

      Will not so graceless be to be ingrate.

       Hor.

      Sir, you say well, and well you do conceive,

      And since you do profess to be a suitor,

      You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman,

      To whom we all rest generally beholding.

       Tra.

      Sir, I shall not be slack; in sign whereof,

      Please ye we may contrive this afternoon,

      And quaff carouses to our mistress’ health,

      And do as adversaries do in law,

      Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.

       Gru., Bion.

      O excellent motion! Fellows, let’s be gone.

       Hor.

      The motion’s good indeed, and be it so,

      Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto.

       Exeunt.

       ¶

      [ACT II]

      [Scene I]

       Enter Katherina and Bianca.

       Bian.

      Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,

      To make a bondmaid and a slave of me—

      That I disdain; but for these other [gawds],

      Unbind my hands, I’ll pull them off myself,

      Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat,

      Or what you will command me will I do,

      So well I know my duty to my elders.

       Kath.

      Of all thy suitors here I charge [thee] tell

      Whom thou lov’st best; see thou dissemble not.

       Bian.

      Believe me, sister, of all the men alive

      I never yet beheld that special face

      Which I could fancy more than any other.

       Kath.

      Minion, thou liest. Is’t not Hortensio?

       Bian.

      If you affect him, sister, here I swear

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

       Kath.

      O then belike you fancy riches more:

      You will have Gremio to keep you fair.

       Bian.

      Is it for him you do envy me so?

      Nay then you jest, and now I well perceive

      You have but jested with me all this while.

      I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands.

       Kath.

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

       Strikes her.

       Enter Baptista.

       Bap.

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

      Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl, she weeps.

      Go ply thy needle, meddle not with her.

      For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit,

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

      When did she cross thee with a bitter word?

       Kath.

      Her silence flouts me, and I’ll be reveng’d.

       Flies after Bianca.

       Bap.

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

       Exit [Bianca].

       Kath.

      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,

      And for your love to her

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