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wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor.

      It blots thy beauty, as frosts do bite the meads,

      Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds,

      And in no sense is meet or amiable.

      A woman mov’d is like a fountain troubled,

      Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty,

      And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty

      Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it.

      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 labor, both by sea and land;

      To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,

      Whilst thou li’st 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.

      Such duty as 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 where 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, come, you froward and unable worms!

      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,

      Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,

      That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.

      Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,

      And 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.

       Pet.

      Why, there’s a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.

       Luc.

      Well, go thy ways, old lad, for thou shalt ha’t.

       Vin.

      ’Tis a good hearing when children are toward.

       Luc.

      But a harsh hearing when women are froward.

       Pet.

      Come, Kate, we’ll to bed.

      We three are married, but you two are sped.

       [To Lucentio.]

      ’Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white,

      And being a winner, God give you good night!

       Exit Petruchio [with Katherina].

       Hor.

      Now go thy ways, thou hast tam’d a curst shrow.

       Luc.

      ’Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tam’d so.

       [Exeunt.]

       ¶

      William Shakespeare

      THE TWO

       GENTLEMEN

       OF VERONA

      ( 1594 )

      First Folio, 1623

      verona

       ¶

      Act I

      Sc. I Sc. II Sc. III

      Act II

      Sc. I Sc. II Sc. III Sc. IV Sc. V Sc. VI Sc. VII

      Act III

      Sc. I Sc. II

      Act IV

      Sc. I Sc. II Sc. III Sc. IV

      Act V

      Sc. I Sc. II Sc. III Sc. IV

      The Names of All the Actors

      Duke [of Milan], father to Silvia

      Valentine,

      Proteus, the two Gentlemen

      Antonio, father to Proteus

      Thurio, a foolish rival to Valentine

      Eglamour, agent for Silvia in her escape

      Host, where Julia lodges

      Outlaws, with Valentine

      Speed, [page] to Valentine

      Launce, a clownish servant to Proteus

      Panthino, servant to Antonio

      Julia, beloved of Proteus

      Silvia, beloved of Valentine

      Lucetta, waiting-woman to Julia

      [Attendants; Musicians]

      [Scene: Verona; Milan; and a forest somewhere between Milan and Mantua]

      ACT I

      Scene I

      

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