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ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio.

       And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale

       Blows you to Padua here from old Verona?

       PETRUCHIO.

       Such wind as scatters young men through the world

       To seek their fortunes farther than at home,

       Where small experience grows. But in a few,

       Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me:

       Antonio, my father, is deceas’d,

       And I have thrust myself into this maze,

       Haply to wive and thrive as best I may;

       Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home,

       And so am come abroad to see the world.

       HORTENSIO.

       Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee

       And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour’d wife?

       Thou’dst thank me but a little for my counsel;

       And yet I’ll promise thee she shall be rich,

       And very rich: but th’art too much my friend,

       And I’ll not wish thee to her.

       PETRUCHIO.

       Signior Hortensio, ‘twixt such friends as we

       Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know

       One rich enough to be Petruchio’s wife,

       As wealth is burden of my wooing dance,

       Be she as foul as was Florentius’ love,

       As old as Sibyl, and as curst and shrewd

       As Socrates’ Xanthippe or a worse,

       She moves me not, or not removes, at least,

       Affection’s edge in me, were she as rough

       As are the swelling Adriatic seas:

       I come to wive it wealthily in Padua;

       If wealthily, then happily in Padua.

       GRUMIO. Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what his mind is: why, give him gold enough and marry him to a puppet or an aglet-baby; or an old trot with ne’er a tooth in her head, though she has as many diseases as two-and-fifty horses: why, nothing comes amiss, so money comes withal.

       HORTENSIO.

       Petruchio, since we are stepp’d thus far in,

       I will continue that I broach’d in jest.

       I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife

       With wealth enough, and young and beauteous;

       Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman:

       Her only fault,—and that is faults enough,—

       Is, that she is intolerable curst

       And shrewd and froward, so beyond all measure,

       That, were my state far worser than it is,

       I would not wed her for a mine of gold.

       PETRUCHIO.

       Hortensio, peace! thou know’st not gold’s effect:

       Tell me her father’s name, and ‘tis enough;

       For I will board her, though she chide as loud

       As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack.

       HORTENSIO.

       Her father is Baptista Minola,

       An affable and courteous gentleman;

       Her name is Katherina Minola,

       Renown’d in Padua for her scolding tongue.

       PETRUCHIO.

       I know her father, though I know not her;

       And he knew my deceased father well.

       I will not sleep, Hortensio, till I see her;

       And therefore let me be thus bold with you,

       To give you over at this first encounter,

       Unless you will accompany me thither.

       GRUMIO. I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour lasts. O’ my word, an she knew him as well as I do, she would think scolding would do little good upon him. She may perhaps call him half a score knaves or so; why, that’s nothing; and he begin once, he’ll rail in his rope-tricks. I’ll tell you what, sir, an she stand him but a little, he will throw a figure in her face, and so disfigure her with it that she shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat. You know him not, sir.

       HORTENSIO.

       Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee,

       For in Baptista’s keep my treasure is:

       He hath the jewel of my life in hold,

       His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca,

       And her withholds from me and other more,

       Suitors to her and rivals in my love;

       Supposing it a thing impossible,

       For those defects I have before rehears’d,

       That ever Katherina will be woo’d:

       Therefore this order hath Baptista ta’en,

       That none shall have access unto Bianca

       Till Katherine the curst have got a husband.

       GRUMIO.

       Katherine the curst!

       A title for a maid of all titles the worst.

       HORTENSIO.

       Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace,

       And offer me disguis’d in sober robes,

       To old Baptista as a schoolmaster

       Well seen in music, to instruct Bianca;

       That so I may, by this device at least

       Have leave and leisure to make love to her,

       And unsuspected court her by herself.

       GRUMIO. Here’s no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks, how the young folks lay their heads together!

       [Enter GREMIO, and LUCENTIO disguised, with books under his arm.]

       Master, master, look about you: who goes there, ha?

       HORTENSIO. Peace, Grumio! ‘tis the rival of my love. Petruchio, stand by awhile.

       GRUMIO.

       A proper stripling, and an amorous!

       GREMIO.

       O! very well; I have perus’d the note.

       Hark you, sir; I’ll have them very fairly bound:

       All books of love, see that at any hand,

       And see you read no other lectures to her.

       You understand me. Over and beside

       Signior Baptista’s liberality,

       I’ll mend it with a largess. Take your papers too,

       And let me have them very well perfum’d;

       For she is sweeter than perfume itself

       To whom they go to. What will you read to her?

       LUCENTIO.

       Whate’er I read to her, I’ll plead for you,

       As for my patron, stand you so assur’d,

       As firmly as yourself were still in place;

       Yea, and perhaps with more successful words

       Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir.

       GREMIO.

       O! this learning, what a thing it is.

       GRUMIO.

      

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