LITMIR.BIZ

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      ACT II

       Table of Contents

SCENE I

       Table of Contents

      Padua. A room in BAPTISTA’S house.

      [Enter KATHERINA and BIANCA.]

      BIANCA.

       Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,

       To make a bondmaid and a slave of me;

       That I disdain; but for these other gawds,

       Unbind my hands, I’ll pull them off myself,

       Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat;

       Or what you will command me will I do,

       So well I know my duty to my elders.

      KATHERINA.

       Of all thy suitors here I charge thee tell

       Whom thou lov’st best: see thou dissemble not.

      BIANCA.

       Believe me, sister, of all the men alive

       I never yet beheld that special face

       Which I could fancy more than any other.

      KATHERINA.

       Minion, thou liest. Is’t not Hortensio?

      BIANCA.

       If you affect him, sister, here I swear

       I’ll plead for you myself but you shall have him.

      KATHERINA.

       O! then, belike, you fancy riches more:

       You will have Gremio to keep you fair.

      BIANCA.

       Is it for him you do envy me so?

       Nay, then you jest; and now I well perceive

       You have but jested with me all this while:

       I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands.

      KATHERINA.

       If that be jest, then an the rest was so.

       [Strikes her.]

      [Enter BAPTISTA.]

      BAPTISTA.

       Why, how now, dame! Whence grows this insolence?

       Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl! she weeps.

       Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her.

       For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit,

       Why dost thou wrong her that did ne’er wrong thee?

       When did she cross thee with a bitter word?

      KATHERINA.

       Her silence flouts me, and I’ll be reveng’d.

       [Flies after BIANCA.]

      BAPTISTA.

       What! in my sight? Bianca, get thee in.

       [Exit BIANCA.]

      KATHERINA.

       What! will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see

       She is your treasure, she must have a husband;

       I must dance barefoot on her wedding-day,

       And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell.

       Talk not to me: I will go sit and weep

       Till I can find occasion of revenge.

       [Exit.]

      BAPTISTA. Was ever gentleman thus griev’d as I?

       But who comes here?

       [Enter GREMIO, with LUCENTIO in the habit of a mean man;

       PETRUCHIO, with HORTENSIO as a musician; and TRANIO, with

       BIONDELLO bearing a lute and books.]

      GREMIO.

       Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.

      BAPTISTA.

       Good morrow, neighbour GREMIO.

       God save you, gentlemen!

      PETRUCHIO.

       And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter

       Call’d Katherina, fair and virtuous?

      BAPTISTA.

       I have a daughter, sir, call’d Katherina.

      GREMIO.

       You are too blunt: go to it orderly.

      PETRUCHIO.

       You wrong me, Signior Gremio: give me leave.

       I am a gentleman of Verona, sir,

       That, hearing of her beauty and her wit,

       Her affability and bashful modesty,

       Her wondrous qualities and mild behaviour,

       Am bold to show myself a forward guest

       Within your house, to make mine eye the witness

       Of that report which I so oft have heard.

       And, for an entrance to my entertainment,

       I do present you with a man of mine,

       [Presenting HORTENSIO.]

      Cunning in music and the mathematics,

       To instruct her fully in those sciences,

       Whereof I know she is not ignorant.

       Accept of him, or else you do me wrong:

       His name is Licio, born in Mantua.

      BAPTISTA.

       You’re welcome, sir, and he for your good sake;

       But for my daughter Katherine, this I know,

       She is not for your turn, the more my grief.

      PETRUCHIO.

       I see you do not mean to part with her;

       Or else you like not of my company.

      BAPTISTA.

       Mistake me not; I speak but as I find.

       Whence are you, sir? What may I call your name?

      PETRUCHIO.

       Petruchio is my name, Antonio’s son;

       A man well known throughout all Italy.

      BAPTISTA.

       I know him well: you are welcome for his sake.

      GREMIO.

       Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,

       Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too.

       Backare! you are marvellous forward.

      PETRUCHIO.

       O, pardon me, Signior Gremio; I would

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