The Taming of the Shrew William Shakespeare (english love story books .txt) 📖

coming in a new hat and an old jerkin, a pair of old breeches thrice turned, a pair of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled, another laced, an old rusty sword ta’en out of the town-armoury, with a broken hilt, and chapeless; with two broken points: his horse hipped with an old mothy saddle and stirrups of no kindred; besides, possessed with the glanders and like to mose in the chine; troubled with the lampass, infected with the fashions, full of wingdalls, sped with spavins, rayed with yellows, past cure of the fives, stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the bots, swayed in the back and shoulder-shotten; near-legged before and with a half-checked bit and a head-stall of sheeps leather which, being restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst and now repaired with knots; one girth six time pieced and a woman’s crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her name fairly set down in studs, and here and there pieced with pack-thread. Baptista Who comes with him? Biondello O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned like the horse; with a linen stock on one leg and a kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered with a red and blue list; an old hat and “the humour of forty fancies” pricked in’t for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian footboy or a gentleman’s lackey. Tranio

’Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion;
Yet oftentimes he goes but mean-apparell’d.

Baptista I am glad he’s come, howsoe’er he comes. Biondello Why, sir, he comes not. Baptista Didst thou not say he comes? Biondello Who? that Petruchio came? Baptista Ay, that Petruchio came. Biondello No, sir; I say his horse comes, with him on his back. Baptista Why, that’s all one. Biondello

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. Petruchio Come, where be these gallants? who’s at home? Baptista You are welcome, sir. Petruchio And yet I come not well. Baptista And yet you halt not. Tranio

Not so well apparell’d
As I wish you were.

Petruchio

Were it better, I should rush in thus.
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?

Baptista

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!

Tranio

And tells us, what occasion of import
Hath all so long detain’d you from your wife,
And sent you hither so unlike yourself?

Petruchio

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 withal.
But where is Kate? I stay too long from her:
The morning wears, ’tis time we were at church.

Tranio

See not your bride in these unreverent robes:
Go to my chamber; Put on clothes of mine.

Petruchio Not I, believe me: thus I’ll visit her. Baptista But thus, I trust, you will not marry her. Petruchio

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! Exeunt Petruchio and Grumio.

Tranio

He hath some meaning in his mad attire:
We will persuade him, be it possible,
To put on better ere he go to church.

Baptista I’ll after him, and see the event of this. Exeunt Baptista, Gremio, and attendants. Tranio

But to her love concerneth us to add
Her father’s liking: which to bring to pass,
As I before unparted to your worship,
I am to get a man⁠—whate’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.

Lucentio

Were it not that my fellow-school-master
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.

Tranio

That by degrees we mean to look into,
And watch our vantage in this business:
We’ll over-reach the greybeard, Gremio,
The narrow-prying father, Minola,
The quaint musician, amorous Licio;
All for my master’s sake, Lucentio.

Re-enter Gremio. Signior Gremio, came you from the church? Gremio As willingly as e’er I came from school. Tranio And is the bride and bridegroom coming home? Gremio

A bridegroom say you? ’tis a groom indeed,
A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall find.

Tranio Curster than she? why, ’tis impossible. Gremio Why he’s a devil, a devil, a very fiend. Tranio Why, she’s a devil, a devil, the devil’s dam. Gremio

Tut, she’s a lamb, a dove, a fool to him!
I’ll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest
Should ask, if Katharine should be his wife,
“Ay, by gogs-wouns,” quoth he; and swore so loud,
That, all-amazed, the priest let fall the book;
And, as he stoop’d again to take it up,
The 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.”

Tranio What said the wench when he rose again? Gremio

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