Like King Solomon of old, Jaques had tasted all the pleasures of life, and had delighted in studying his fellow-mortals; but his stores of wit and wisdom brought him no real satisfaction. “Vanity of vanities, all is vanity,” was all that his worldly philosophy had taught him, and his sharp-eyed cynicism saw only the base and ludicrous side of human nature. So he went his way, rejecting the kindly fellowship that was offered him, and taking a half-exultant pride in his own loneliness and melancholy. But the Duke ordered the rejoicings to proceed, and the green glades of the Forest of Arden rang with the sound of song and laughter. The Taming of the Shrew [Illustration] A Rough Courtship “Katherine the curst!” That is not a pretty title for a maiden, but that was the nickname given to one, renowned all through Padua for her scolding tongue. Baptista Minola had two daughters, both young and beautiful, but very different in disposition, for while Bianca, the younger, was so sweet and gentle that she was beloved by all, the elder sister Katharine had such a violent and ungovernable temper that everyone feared and disliked her. Bianca had several suitors, but Baptista, her father, was firmly resolved not to allow his youngest daughter to marry until he had secured a husband for the elder. In the meantime he declared Bianca should stay quietly at home; but as he loved his daughter, and did not want the time to pass heavily with her, he promised to provide schoolmasters, to instruct her in the studies in which she took most delight--music and poetry. Bianca meekly submitted to this somewhat hard decree, but two of her suitors--Gremio and Hortensio--were very indignant that she should be kept secluded in this fashion. They were rivals in their courtship, but this hindrance to them both made them friends. They agreed to do their best to find a husband for Katharine, and thus, when the younger sister was free again, to set to work afresh to see which could win her. On the very day when Baptista announced his resolve, there arrived in Padua a great friend of Hortensio’s, whose name was Petruchio, and who lived in Verona. Petruchio told Hortensio that his father was dead, and that he had now come abroad to see the world. He had money in his pockets, possessions at home, and possibly he would marry if he could find a wife. Hortensio’s thoughts, of course, at once flew to Katharine, and half in jest he offered to supply Petruchio with a wife, shrewish and ill-favoured, he said, but rich--very rich. “But you are too much my friend,” he concluded; “I could not wish you to marry her.” Petruchio, in his own way, was as perverse and self-willed as Katharine, and he immediately replied that the lady might be old, ugly, and as great a shrew as Xantippe, wife of Socrates, but so long as she was wealthy he was quite ready to marry her. Seeing his friend in this mood, Hortensio continued in earnest what he had begun in jest.