The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [Vol. 3 of 9]Shakespeare, William
General
The Works of William Shakespeare [Cambridge Edition] [Vol. 3 of 9]
Shakespeare, William
English drama
_Re-enter_ HORTENSIO, _with his head broke_.
_Bap._ How now, my friend! why dost thou look so pale?
_Hor._ For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.
_Bap._ What, will my daughter prove a good musician?
_Hor._ I think she'll sooner prove a soldier:
Iron may hold with her, but never lutes. 145
_Bap._ Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute?
_Hor._ Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me.
I did but tell her she mistook her frets,
And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering;
When, with a most impatient devilish spirit, 150
'Frets, call you these?' quoth she; 'I'll fume with them:'
And, with that word, she struck me on the head,
And through the instrument my pate made way;
And there I stood amazed for a while,
As on a pillory, looking through the lute; 155
While she did call me rascal fiddler
And twangling Jack; with twenty such vile terms,
As had she studied to misuse me so.
_Pet._ Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench;
I love her ten times more than e'er I did: 160
O, how I long to have some chat with her!
_Bap._ Well, go with me and be not so discomfited:
Proceed in practice with my younger daughter;
She's apt to learn and thankful for good turns.
Signior Petruchio, will you go with us, 165
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?
_Pet._ I pray you do; I will attend her here,
[_Exeunt Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, and Hortensio._
And woo her with some spirit when she comes.
Say that she rail; why then I'll tell her plain
She sings as sweetly as a nightingale: 170
Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear
As morning roses newly wash'd with dew:
Say she be mute and will not speak a word;
Then I'll commend her volubility,
And say she uttereth piercing eloquence: 175
If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks,
As though she bid me stay by her a week:
If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day
When I shall ask the banns, and when be married.
But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak. 180
_Enter_ KATHARINA.
Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear.
_Kath._ Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:
They call me Katharine that do talk of me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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