Enter PETRUCHIO and his man GRUMIO

Verona, for a while I take my leave,
To see my friends in Padua, but of all
My best beloved and approved friend,
Hortensio; and I trow this is his house.
Here, sirrah Grumio; knock, I say.

Knock, sir! whom should I knock? is there man has
rebused your worship?

Villain, I say, knock me here soundly.

Knock you here, sir! why, sir, what am I, sir, that
I should knock you here, sir?

Villain, I say, knock me at this gate
And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate.

My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock
you first,
And then I know after who comes by the worst.

Will it not be?
Faith, sirrah, an you'll not knock, I'll ring it;
I'll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it.
He wrings him by the ears

Help, masters, help! my master is mad.

Now, knock when I bid you, sirrah villain!
Enter HORTENSIO

How now! what's the matter? My old friend Grumio!
and my good friend Petruchio! How do you all at Verona?

Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray?
'Con tutto il cuore, ben trovato,' may I say.

'Alla nostra casa ben venuto, molto honorato signor
mio Petruchio.' Rise, Grumio, rise: we will compound
this quarrel.

Nay, 'tis no matter, sir, what he 'leges in Latin.
if this be not a lawful case for me to leave his
service, look you, sir, he bid me knock him and rap
him soundly, sir: well, was it fit for a servant to
use his master so, being perhaps, for aught I see,
two and thirty, a pip out? Whom would to God I had
well knock'd at first, Then had not Grumio come by the worst.

A senseless villain! Good Hortensio,
I bade the rascal knock upon your gate
And could not get him for my heart to do it.

Knock at the gate! O heavens! Spake you not these
words plain, 'Sirrah, knock me here, rap me here,
knock me well, and knock me soundly'? And come you
now with, 'knocking at the gate'?

Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you.

Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio's pledge:
Why, this's a heavy chance 'twixt him and you,
Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio.
And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale
Blows you to Padua here from old Verona?

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 deceased;
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.

Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee
And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife?
Thou'ldst thank me but a little for my counsel:
And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich
And very rich: but thou'rt too much my friend,
And I'll not wish thee to her.

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.

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 have as many diseases
as two and fifty horses: why, nothing comes amiss,
so money comes withal.

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.

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.

Her father is Baptista Minola,
An affable and courteous gentleman:
Her name is Katharina Minola,
Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue.

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.

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; an 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.

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 Binaca,
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 rehearsed,
That ever Katharina will be woo'd;
Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en,
That none shall have access unto Bianca
Till Katharina the curst have got a husband.

Katharina the curst!
A title for a maid of all titles the worst.

Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace,
And offer me disguised 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.

Here's no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks,
how the young folks lay their heads together!
Enter GREMIO, and LUCENTIO disguised
Master, master, look about you: who goes there, ha?

Peace, Grumio! it is the rival of my love.
Petruchio, stand by a while.

A proper stripling and an amorous!

O, very well; I have perused 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 paper too,
And let me have them very well perfumed
For she is sweeter than perfume itself
To whom they go to. What will you read to her?

Whate'er I read to her, I'll plead for you
As for my patron, stand you so assured,
As firmly as yourself were still in place:
Yea, and perhaps with more successful words
Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir.

O this learning, what a thing it is!

O this woodcock, what an ass it is!

Peace, sirrah!

Grumio, mum! God save you, Signior Gremio.

And you are well met, Signior Hortensio.
Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola.
I promised to inquire carefully
About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca:
And by good fortune I have lighted well
On this young man, for learning and behavior
Fit for her turn, well read in poetry
And other books, good ones, I warrant ye.

'Tis well; and I have met a gentleman
Hath promised me to help me to another,
A fine musician to instruct our mistress;
So shall I no whit be behind in duty
To fair Bianca, so beloved of me.

Beloved of me; and that my deeds shall prove.

And that his bags shall prove.

Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love:
Listen to me, and if you speak me fair,
I'll tell you news indifferent good for either.
Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met,
Upon agreement from us to his liking,
Will undertake to woo curst Katharina,
Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please.

So said, so done, is well.
Hortensio, have you told him all her faults?

I know she is an irksome brawling scold:
If that be all, masters, I hear no harm.

No, say'st me so, friend? What countryman?

Born in Verona, old Antonio's son:
My father dead, my fortune lives for me;
And I do hope good days and long to see.

O sir, such a life, with such a wife, were strange!
But if you have a stomach, to't i' God's name:
You shall have me assisting you in all.
But will you woo this wild-cat?

Will I live?

Will he woo her? ay, or I'll hang her.

Why came I hither but to that intent?
Think you a little din can daunt mine ears?
Have I not in my time heard lions roar?
Have I not heard the sea puff'd up with winds
Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat?
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?
Have I not in a pitched battle heard
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang?
And do you tell me of a woman's tongue,
That gives not half so great a blow to hear
As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire?
Tush, tush! fear boys with bugs.

For he fears none.

Hortensio, hark:
This gentleman is happily arrived,
My mind presumes, for his own good and ours.

I promised we would be contributors
And bear his charging of wooing, whatsoe'er.

And so we will, provided that he win her.

I would I were as sure of a good dinner.
Enter TRANIO brave, and BIONDELLO

Gentlemen, God save you. If I may be bold,
Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way
To the house of Signior Baptista Minola?

He that has the two fair daughters: is't he you mean?

Even he, Biondello.

Hark you, sir; you mean not her to--

Perhaps, him and her, sir: what have you to do?

Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray.

I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, let's away.

Well begun, Tranio.

Sir, a word ere you go;
Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no?

And if I be, sir, is it any offence?

No; if without more words you will get you hence.

Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free
For me as for you?

But so is not she.

For what reason, I beseech you?

For this reason, if you'll know,
That she's the choice love of Signior Gremio.

That she's the chosen of Signior Hortensio.

Softly, my masters! if you be gentlemen,
Do me this right; hear me with patience.
Baptista is a noble gentleman,
To whom my father is not all unknown;
And were his daughter fairer than she is,
She may more suitors have and me for one.
Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers;
Then well one more may fair Bianca have:
And so she shall; Lucentio shall make one,
Though Paris came in hope to speed alone.

What! this gentleman will out-talk us all.

Sir, give him head: I know he'll prove a jade.

Hortensio, to what end are all these words?

Sir, let me be so bold as ask you,
Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter?

No, sir; but hear I do that he hath two,
The one as famous for a scolding tongue
As is the other for beauteous modesty.

Sir, sir, the first's for me; let her go by.

Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules;
And let it be more than Alcides' twelve.

Sir, understand you this of me in sooth:
The younges t daughter whom you hearken for
Her father keeps from all access of suitors,
And will not promise her to any man
Until the elder sister first be wed:
The younger then is free and not before.

If it be so, sir, that you are the man
Must stead us all and me amongst the rest,
And if you break the ice and do this feat,
Achieve the elder, set the younger free
For our access, whose hap shall be to have her
Will not so graceless be to be ingrate.

Sir, you say well and well you do conceive;
And since you do profess to be a suitor,
You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman,
To whom we all rest generally beholding.

Sir, I shall not be slack: in sign whereof,
Please ye we may contrive this afternoon,
And quaff carouses to our mistress' health,
And do as adversaries do in law,
Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends.

O excellent motion! Fellows, let's be gone.

The motion's good indeed and be it so,
Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto.
Exeunt

Enter KATHARINA and 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.

Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell
Whom thou lovest best: see thou dissemble not.

Believe me, sister, of all the men alive
I never yet beheld that special face
Which I could fancy more than any other.

Minion, thou liest. Is't not Hortensio?

If you affect him, sister, here I swear
I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have
him.

O then, belike, you fancy riches more:
You will have Gremio to keep you fair.

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.

If that be jest, then all the rest was so.
Strikes her
Enter 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 helding of a devilish spirit,
Why dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong thee?
When did she cross thee with a bitter word?

Her silence flouts me, and I'll be revenged.
Flies after BIANCA

What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in.
Exit BIANCA

What, will you not suffer me? Nay, now I see
She is your treasure, she must have a husband;
I must dance bare-foot 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

Was ever gentleman thus grieved as I?
But who comes here?
Enter GREMIO, LUCENTIO in the habit of a mean man; PETRUCHIO, with HORTENSIO as a musician; and TRANIO, with BIONDELLO bearing a lute and books

Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.

Good morrow, neighbour Gremio.
God save you, gentlemen!

And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter
Call'd Katharina, fair and virtuous?

I have a daughter, sir, called Katharina.

You are too blunt: go to it orderly.

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 behavior,
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.

You're welcome, sir; and he, for your good sake.
But for my daughter Katharina, this I know,
She is not for your turn, the more my grief.

I see you do not mean to part with her,
Or else you like not of my company.

Mistake me not; I speak but as I find.
Whence are you, sir? what may I call your name?

Petruchio is my name; Antonio's son,
A man well known throughout all Italy.

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

Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray,
Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too:
Baccare! you are marvellous forward.

O, pardon me, Signior Gremio; I would fain be doing.

I doubt it not, sir; but you will curse your
wooing. Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am
sure of it. To express the like kindness, myself,
that have been more kindly beholding to you than
any, freely give unto you this young scholar,
Presenting LUCENTIO
that hath been long studying at Rheims; as cunning
in Greek, Latin, and other ********s, as the other
in music and mathematics: his name is Cambio; pray,
accept his service.

A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio.
Welcome, good Cambio.
To TRANIO
But, gentle sir, methinks you walk like a stranger:
may I be so bold to know the cause of your coming?

Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine own,
That, being a stranger in this city here,
Do make myself a suitor to your daughter,
Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous.
Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me,
In the preferment of the eldest sister.
This liberty is all that I request,
That, upon knowledge of my parentage,
I may have welcome 'mongst the rest that woo
And free access and favour as the rest:
And, toward the education of your daughters,
I here bestow a simple instrument,
And this small packet of Greek and Latin books:
If you accept them, then their worth is great.

Lucentio is your name; of whence, I pray?

Of Pisa, sir; son to Vincentio.

A mighty man of Pisa; by report
I know him well: you are very welcome, sir,
Take you the lute, and you the set of books;
You shall go see your pupils presently.
Holla, within!
Enter a Servant
Sirrah, lead these gentlemen
To my daughters; and tell them both,
These are their tutors: bid them use them well.
Exit Servant, with LUCENTIO and HORTENSIO, BIONDELLO following
We will go walk a little in the orchard,
And then to dinner. You are passing welcome,
And so I pray you all to think yourselves.

Signior Baptista, my business asketh haste,
And every day I cannot come to woo.
You knew my father well, and in him me,
Left solely heir to all his lands and goods,
Which I have better'd rather than decreased:
Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love,
What dowry shall I have with her to wife?

After my death the one half of my lands,
And in possession twenty thousand crowns.

And, for that dowry, I'll assure her of
Her widowhood, be it that she survive me,
In all my lands and leases whatsoever:
Let specialties be therefore drawn between us,
That covenants may be kept on either hand.

Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd,
That is, her love; for that is all in all.

Why, that is nothing: for I tell you, father,
I am as peremptory as she proud-minded;
And where two raging fires meet together
They do consume the thing that feeds their fury:
Though little fire grows great with little wind,
Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all:
So I to her and so she yields to me;
For I am rough and woo not like a babe.

Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed!
But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words.

Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds,
That shake not, though they blow perpetually.
Re-enter HORTENSIO, with his head broke

How now, my friend! why dost thou look so pale?

For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.

What, will my daughter prove a good musician?

I think she'll sooner prove a soldier
Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.

Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute?

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,
'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;
While she did call me rascal fiddler
And twangling Jack; with twenty such vile terms,
As had she studied to misuse me so.

Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench;
I love her ten times more than e'er I did:
O, how I long to have some chat with her!

Well, go with me and be not so discomfited:
Proceed in practise with my younger daughter;
She's apt to learn and thankful for good turns.
Signior Petruchio, will you go with us,
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?

I pray you do.
Exeunt all but PETRUCHIO
I will attend her here,
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:
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:
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.
Enter KATHARINA
Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear.

Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:
They call me Katharina that do talk of me.

You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain Kate,
And bonny Kate and sometimes Kate the curst;
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom
Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate,
For dainties are all Kates, and therefore, Kate,
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation;
Hearing thy mildness praised in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,
Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,
Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.

Moved! in good time: let him that moved you hither
Remove you hence: I knew you at the first
You were a moveable.

Why, what's a moveable?

A join'd-stool.

Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me.

Asses are made to bear, and so are you.

Women are made to bear, and so are you.

No such jade as you, if me you mean.

Alas! good Kate, I will not burden thee;
For, knowing thee to be but young and light--

Too light for such a swain as you to catch;
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.

Should be! should--buzz!

Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.

O slow-wing'd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee?

Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.

Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry.

If I be waspish, best beware my sting.

My remedy is then, to pluck it out.

Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies,

Who knows not where a wasp does
wear his sting? In his tail.

In his tongue.

Whose tongue?

Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell.

What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again,
Good Kate; I am a gentleman.

That I'll try.
She strikes him

I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again.

So may you lose your arms:
If you strike me, you are no gentleman;
And if no gentleman, why then no arms.

A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books!

What is your crest? a coxcomb?

A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.

No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven.

Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour.

It is my fashion, when I see a crab.

Why, here's no crab; and therefore look not sour.

There is, there is.

Then show it me.

Had I a glass, I would.

What, you mean my face?

Well aim'd of such a young one.

Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.

Yet you are wither'd.

'Tis with cares.

I care not.

Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth you scape not so.

I chafe you, if I tarry: let me go.

No, not a whit: I find you passing gentle.
'Twas told me you were rough and coy and sullen,
And now I find report a very liar;
For thou are pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous,
But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers:
Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance,
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,
Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk,
But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers,
With gentle conference, soft and affable.
Why does the world report that Kate doth limp?
O slanderous world! Kate like the hazel-twig
Is straight and slender and as brown in hue
As hazel nuts and sweeter than the kernels.
O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt.

Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command.

Did ever Dian so become a grove
As Kate this chamber with her princely gait?
O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate;
And then let Kate be chaste and Dian sportful!

Where did you study all this goodly speech?

It is extempore, from my mother-wit.

A witty mother! witless else her son.

Am I not wise?

Yes; keep you warm.

Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharina, in thy bed:
And therefore, setting all this chat aside,
Thus in plain terms: your father hath consented
That you shall be my wife; your dowry 'greed on;
And, Will you, nill you, I will marry you.
Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn;
For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty,
Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well,
Thou must be married to no man but me;
For I am he am born to tame you Kate,
And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate
Conformable as other household Kates.
Here comes your father: never make denial;
I must and will have Katharina to my wife.
Re-enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and TRANIO

Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?

How but well, sir? how but well?
It were impossible I should speed amiss.

Why, how now, daughter Katharina! in your dumps?

Call you me daughter? now, I promise you
You have show'd a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one half lunatic;
A mad-cup ruffian and a swearing Jack,
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.

Father, 'tis thus: yourself and all the world,
That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her:
If she be curst, it is for policy,
For she's not froward, but modest as the dove;
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;
For patience she will prove a second Grissel,
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity:
And to conclude, we have 'greed so well together,
That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.

I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first.

Hark, Petruchio; she says she'll see thee
hang'd first.

Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night our part!

Be patient, gentlemen; I choose her for myself:
If she and I be pleased, what's that to you?
'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
That she shall still be curst in company.
I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe
How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate!
She hung about my neck; and kiss on kiss
She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twink she won me to her love.
O, you are novices! 'tis a world to see,
How tame, when men and women are alone,
A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.
Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day.
Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests;
I will be sure my Katharina shall be fine.

I know not what to say: but give me your hands;
God send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match.

Amen, say we: we will be witnesses.

Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu;
I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace:
We will have rings and things and fine array;
And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o'Sunday.
Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA severally

Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly?

Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part,
And venture madly on a desperate mart.

'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you:
'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.

The gain I seek is, quiet in the match.

No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch.
But now, Baptists, to your younger daughter:
Now is the day we long have looked for:
I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.

And I am one that love Bianca more
Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.

Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I.

Graybeard, thy love doth freeze.

But thine doth fry.
Skipper, stand back: 'tis age that nourisheth.

But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth.

******* you, gentlemen: I will compound this strife:
'Tis deeds must win the prize; and he of both
That can assure my daughter greatest dower
Shall have my Bianca's love.
Say, Signior Gremio, What can you assure her?

First, as you know, my house within the city
Is richly furnished with plate and gold;
Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands;
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;
In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns;
In cypress chests my arras counterpoints,
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl,
Valance of Venice gold in needlework,
Pewter and brass and all things that belong
To house or housekeeping: then, at my farm
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls,
And all things answerable to this portion.
Myself am struck in years, I must confess;
And if I die to-morrow, this is hers,
If whilst I live she will be only mine.

That 'only' came well in. Sir, list to me:
I am my father's heir and only son:
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
I'll leave her houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
Old Signior Gremio has in Padua;
Besides two thousand ducats by the year
Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure.
What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio?

Two thousand ducats by the year of land!
My land amounts not to so much in all:
That she shall have; besides an argosy
That now is lying in Marseilles' road.
What, have I choked you with an argosy?

Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less
Than three great argosies; besides two galliases,
And twelve tight galleys: these I will assure her,
And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next.

Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more;
And she can have no more than all I have:
If you like me, she shall have me and mine.

Why, then the maid is mine from all the world,
By your firm promise: Gremio is out-vied.

I must confess your offer is the best;
And, let your father make her the assurance,
She is your own; else, you must pardon me,
if you should die before him, where's her dower?

That's but a cavil: he is old, I young.

And may not young men die, as well as old?

Well, gentlemen,
I am thus resolved: on Sunday next you know
My daughter Katharina is to be married:
Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca
Be bride to you, if you this assurance;
If not, Signior Gremio:
And so, I take my leave, and thank you both.

Adieu, good neighbour.
Exit BAPTISTA
Now I fear thee not:
Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool
To give thee all, and in his waning age
Set foot under thy table: tut, a toy!
An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy.
Exit

A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide!
Yet I have faced it with a card of ten.
'Tis in my head to do my master good:
I see no reason but supposed Lucentio
Must get a father, call'd 'supposed Vincentio;'
And that's a wonder: fathers commonly
Do get their children; but in this case of wooing,
A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning.
Exit

Enter LUCENTIO, HORTENSIO, and BIANCA

Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir:
Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
Her sister Katharina welcomed you withal?

But, wrangling pedant, this is
The patroness of heavenly harmony:
Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in music we have spent an hour,
Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.

Preposterous ass, that never read so far
To know the cause why music was ordain'd!
Was it not to refresh the mind of man
After his studies or his usual pain?
Then give me leave to read philosophy,
And while I pause, serve in your harmony.

Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.

Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong,
To strive for that which resteth in my choice:
I am no breeching scholar in the schools;
I'll not be tied to hours nor 'pointed times,
But learn my lessons as I please myself.
And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down:
Take you your instrument, play you the whiles;
His lecture will be done ere you have tuned.

You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune?

That will be never: tune your instrument.

Where left we last?

Here, madam:
'Hic ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus;
Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.'

Construe them.

'Hic ibat,' as I told you before, 'Simois,' I am
Lucentio, 'hic est,' son unto Vincentio of Pisa,
'Sigeia tellus,' disguised thus to get your love;
'Hic steterat,' and that Lucentio that comes
a-wooing, 'Priami,' is my man Tranio, 'regia,'
bearing my port, 'celsa senis,' that we might
beguile the old pantaloon.

Madam, my instrument's in tune.

Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars.

Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.

Now let me see if I can construe it: 'Hic ibat
Simois,' I know you not, 'hic est Sigeia tellus,' I
trust you not; 'Hic steterat Priami,' take heed
he hear us not, 'regia,' presume not, 'celsa senis,'
despair not.

Madam, 'tis now in tune.

All but the base.

The base is right; 'tis the base knave that jars.
Aside
How fiery and forward our pedant is!
Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love:
Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet.

In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.

Mistrust it not: for, sure, AEacides
Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather.

I must believe my master; else, I promise you,
I should be arguing still upon that doubt:
But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you:
Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray,
That I have been thus pleasant with you both.

You may go walk, and give me leave a while:
My lessons make no music in three parts.

Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait,
Aside
And watch withal; for, but I be deceived,
Our fine musician groweth amorous.

Madam, before you touch the instrument,
To learn the order of my fingering,
I must begin with rudiments of art;
To teach you gamut in a briefer sort,
More pleasant, pithy and effectual,
Than hath been taught by any of my trade:
And there it is in writing, fairly drawn.

Why, I am past my gamut long ago.

Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.

[Reads] ''Gamut' I am, the ground of all accord,
'A re,' to Plead Hortensio's passion;
'B mi,' Bianca, take him for thy lord,
'C fa ut,' that loves with all affection:
'D sol re,' one clef, two notes have I:
'E la mi,' show pity, or I die.'
Call you this gamut? tut, I like it not:
Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice,
To change true rules for old inventions.
Enter a Servant

Mistress, your father prays you leave your books
And help to dress your sister's chamber up:
You know to-morrow is the wedding-day.

Farewell, sweet masters both; I must be gone.
Exeunt BIANCA and Servant

Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay.
Exit

But I have cause to pry into this pedant:
Methinks he looks as though he were in love:
Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble
To cast thy wandering eyes on every stale,
Seize thee that list: if once I find thee ranging,
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing.
Exit

Enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, TRANIO, KATHARINA, BIANCA, LUCENTIO, and others, attendants

[To TRANIO] Signior Lucentio, this is the
'pointed day.
That Katharina and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we hear not of our son-in-law.
What will be said? what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage!
What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?

No shame but mine: I must, forsooth, be forced
To give my hand opposed against my heart
Unto a mad-brain rudesby full of spleen;
Who woo'd in haste and means to wed at leisure.
I told you, I, he was a frantic fool,
Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behavior:
And, to be noted for a merry man,
He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage,
Make feasts, invite friends, and proclaim the banns;
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
Now must the world point at poor Katharina,
And say, 'Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her!'

Patience, good Katharina, and Baptista too.
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
Whatever fortune stays him from his word:
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise;
Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.

Would Katharina had never seen him though!
Exit weeping, followed by BIANCA and others

Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep;
For such an injury would vex a very saint,
Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.
Enter BIONDELLO

Master, master! news, old news, and such news as
you never heard of!

Is it new and old too? how may that be?

Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio's coming?

Is he come?

Why, no, sir.

What then?

He is coming.

When will he be here?

When he stands where I am and sees you there.

But say, what to thine old news?

Why, Petruchio is 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-armory, 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-chequed 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 packthread.

Who comes with him?

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.

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

I am glad he's come, howsoe'er he comes.

Why, sir, he comes not.

Didst thou not say he comes?

Who? that Petruchio came?

Ay, that Petruchio came.

No, sir, I say his horse comes, with him on his back.

Why, that's all one.

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

Come, where be these gallants? who's at home?

You are welcome, sir.

And yet I come not well.

And yet you halt not.

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

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?

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!

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

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.

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

Not I, believe me: thus I'll visit her.

But thus, I trust, you will not marry her.

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

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

I'll after him, and see the event of this.
Exeunt BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and attendants

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.

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.

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?

As willingly as e'er I came from school.

And is the bride and bridegroom coming home?

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

Curster than she? why, 'tis impossible.

Why he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend.

Why, she's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam.

Tut, she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him!
I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio: when the priest
Should ask, if Katharina 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.'

What said the wench when he rose again?

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 her lips with such a clamorous smack
That at the parting all the church did echo:
And I seeing this came thence for very shame;
And after me, I know, the rout is coming.
Such a mad marriage never was before:
Hark, hark! I hear the minstrels play.
Music
Re-enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, BIANCA, BAPTISTA, HORTENSIO, GRUMIO, and Train

Gentlemen and friends, I thank you for your pains:
I know you think to dine with me to-day,
And have prepared great store of wedding cheer;
But so it is, my haste doth call me hence,
And therefore here I mean to take my leave.

Is't possible you will away to-night?

I must away to-day, before night come:
Make it no wonder; if you knew my business,
You would entreat me rather go than stay.
And, honest company, I thank you all,
That have beheld me give away myself
To this most patient, sweet and virtuous wife:
Dine with my father, drink a health to me;
For I must hence; and farewell to you all.

Let us entreat you stay till after dinner.

It may not be.

Let me entreat you.

It cannot be.

Let me entreat you.

I am *******.

Are you ******* to stay?

I am ******* you shall entreat me stay;
But yet not stay, entreat me how you can.

Now, if you love me, stay.

Grumio, my horse.

Ay, sir, they be ready: the oats have eaten the horses.

Nay, then,
Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day;
No, nor to-morrow, not till I please myself.
The door is open, sir; there lies your way;
You may be jogging whiles your boots are green;
For me, I'll not be gone till I please myself:
'Tis like you'll prove a jolly surly groom,
That take it on you at the first so roundly.

O Kate, ******* thee; prithee, be not angry.

I will be angry: what hast thou to do?
Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure.

Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work.

Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner:
I see a woman may be made a fool,
If she had not a spirit to resist.

They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command.
Obey the bride, you that attend on her;
Go to the feast, revel and domineer,
Carouse full measure to her maidenhead,
Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves:
But for my bonny Kate, she must with me.
Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, nor fret;
I will be master of what is mine own:
She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house,
My household stuff, my field, my barn,
My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing;
And here she stands, touch her whoever dare;
I'll bring mine action on the proudest he
That stops my way in Padua. Grumio,
Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with thieves;
Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man.
Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch
thee, Kate:
I'll buckler thee against a million.
Exeunt PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, and GRUMIO

Nay, let them go, a couple of quiet ones.

Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing.

Of all mad matches never was the like.

Mistress, what's your opinion of your sister?

That, being mad herself, she's madly mated.

I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated.

Neighbours and friends, though bride and
bridegroom wants
For to supply the places at the table,
You know there wants no junkets at the feast.
Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's place:
And let Bianca take her sister's room.

Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it?

She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, let's go.
Exeunt

Enter GRUMIO

Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad masters, and
all foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? was ever
man so rayed? was ever man so weary? I am sent
before to make a fire, and they are coming after to
warm them. Now, were not I a little pot and soon
hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my
tongue to the roof of my mouth, my heart in my
belly, ere I should come by a fire to thaw me: but
I, with blowing the fire, shall warm myself; for,
considering the weather, a taller man than I will
take cold. Holla, ho! Curtis.
Enter CURTIS

Who is that calls so coldly?

A piece of ice: if thou doubt it, thou mayst slide
from my shoulder to my heel with no greater a run
but my head and my neck. A fire good Curtis.

Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio?

O, ay, Curtis, ay: and therefore fire, fire; cast
on no water.

Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported?

She was, good Curtis, before this frost: but, thou
knowest, winter tames man, woman and beast; for it
hath tamed my old master and my new mistress and
myself, fellow Curtis.

Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast.

Am I but three inches? why, thy horn is a foot; and
so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a
fire, or shall I complain on thee to our mistress,
whose hand, she being now at hand, thou shalt soon
feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office?

I prithee, good Grumio, tell me, how goes the world?

A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine; and
therefore fire: do thy duty, and have thy duty; for
my master and mistress are almost frozen to death.

There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news.

Why, 'Jack, boy! ho! boy!' and as much news as
will thaw.

Come, you are so full of cony-catching!

Why, therefore fire; for I have caught extreme cold.
Where's the ****? is supper ready, the house
trimmed, rushes strewed, cob***s swept; the
serving-men in their new fustian, their white
stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment on?
Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without,
the carpets laid, and every thing in order?

All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news.

First, know, my horse is tired; my master and
mistress fallen out.

How?

Out of their saddles into the dirt; and thereby
hangs a tale.

Let's ha't, good Grumio.

Lend thine ear.

Here.

There.
Strikes him

This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.

And therefore 'tis called a sensible tale: and this
cuff was but to knock at your ear, and beseech
listening. Now I begin: Imprimis, we came down a
foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress,--

Both of one horse?

What's that to thee?

Why, a horse.

Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not crossed me,
thou shouldst have heard how her horse fell and she
under her horse; thou shouldst have heard in how
miry a place, how she was bemoiled, how he left her
with the horse upon her, how he beat me because
her horse stumbled, how she waded through the dirt
to pluck him off me, how he swore, how she prayed,
that never prayed before, how I cried, how the
horses ran away, how her bridle was burst, how I
lost my crupper, with many things of worthy memory,
which now shall die in oblivion and thou return
unexperienced to thy grave.

By this reckoning he is more shrew than she.

Ay; and that thou and the proudest of you all shall
find when he comes home. But what talk I of this?
Call forth Nathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas, Philip,
Walter, Sugarsop and the rest: let their heads be
sleekly combed their blue coats brushed and their
garters of an indifferent knit: let them curtsy
with their left legs and not presume to touch a hair
of my master's horse-tail till they kiss their
hands. Are they all ready?

They are.

Call them forth.

Do you hear, ho? you must meet my master to
countenance my mistress.

Why, she hath a face of her own.

Who knows not that?

Thou, it seems, that calls for company to
countenance her.

I call them forth to credit her.

Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them.
Enter four or five Serving-men

Welcome home, Grumio!

How now, Grumio!

What, Grumio!

Fellow Grumio!

How now, old lad?

Welcome, you;--how now, you;-- what, you;--fellow,
you;--and thus much for greeting. Now, my spruce
companions, is all ready, and all things neat?

All things is ready. How near is our master?

E'en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore be
not--Cock's passion, silence! I hear my master.
Enter PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA

Where be these knaves? What, no man at door
To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse!
Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip?
ALL SERVING-MEN Here, here, sir; here, sir.

Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! here, sir!
You logger-headed and unpolish'd grooms!
What, no attendance? no regard? no duty?
Where is the foolish knave I sent before?

Here, sir; as foolish as I was before.

You peasant swain! you whoreson malt-horse drudge!
Did I not bid thee meet me in the park,
And bring along these rascal knaves with thee?

Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made,
And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' the heel;
There was no link to colour Peter's hat,
And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing:
There were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory;
The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly;
Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you.

Go, rascals, go, and fetch my supper in.
Exeunt Servants
Singing
Where is the life that late I led--
Where are those--Sit down, Kate, and welcome.--
Sound, sound, sound, sound!
Re-enter Servants with supper
Why, when, I say? Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry.
Off with my boots, you rogues! you villains, when?
Sings
It was the friar of orders grey,
As he forth walked on his way:--
Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry:
Take that, and mend the plucking off the other.
Strikes him
Be merry, Kate. Some water, here; what, ho!
Where's my spaniel Troilus? Sirrah, get you hence,
And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither:
One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted with.
Where are my slippers? Shall I have some water?
Enter one with water
Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily.
You whoreson villain! will you let it fall?
Strikes him

Patience, I pray you; 'twas a fault unwilling.

A whoreson beetle-headed, flap-ear'd knave!
Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a stomach.
Will you give thanks, sweet Kate; or else shall I?
What's this? mutton?

Ay.

Who brought it?

I.

'Tis burnt; and so is all the meat.
What dogs are these! Where is the rascal ****?
How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser,
And serve it thus to me that love it not?
Theretake it to you, trenchers, cups, and all;
Throws the meat, & c. about the stage
You heedless joltheads and unmanner'd slaves!
What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight.

I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet:
The meat was well, if you were so *******ed.

I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away;
And I expressly am forbid to touch it,
For it engenders choler, planteth anger;
And better 'twere that both of us did fast,
Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric,
Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh.
Be patient; to-morrow 't shall be mended,
And, for this night, we'll fast for company:
Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber.
Exeunt
Re-enter Servants severally

Peter, didst ever see the like?

He kills her in her own humour.
Re-enter CURTIS

Where is he?

In her chamber, making a sermon of continency to her;
And rails, and swears, and rates, that she, poor soul,
Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak,
And sits as one new-risen from a dream.
Away, away! for he is coming hither.
Exeunt
Re-enter PETRUCHIO

Thus have I politicly begun my reign,
And 'tis my hope to end successfully.
My falcon now is sharp and passing empty;
And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged,
For then she never looks upon her lure.
Another way I have to man my haggard,
To make her come and know her keeper's call,
That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites
That bate and beat and will not be obedient.
She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat;
Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not;
As with the meat, some undeserved fault
I'll find about the making of the bed;
And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster,
This way the coverlet, another way the sheets:
Ay, and amid this hurly I intend
That all is done in reverend care of her;
And in conclusion she shall watch all night:
And if she chance to nod I'll rail and brawl
And with the clamour keep her still awake.
This is a way to kill a wife with kindness;
And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour.
He that knows better how to tame a shrew,
Now let him speak: 'tis charity to show.
Exit

Enter TRANIO and HORTENSIO

Is't possible, friend Licio, that Mistress Bianca
Doth fancy any other but Lucentio?
I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand.

Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said,
Stand by and mark the manner of his teaching.
Enter BIANCA and LUCENTIO

Now, mistress, profit you in what you read?

What, master, read you? first resolve me that.

I read that I profess, the Art to Love.

And may you prove, sir, master of your art!

While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart!

Quick proceeders, marry! Now, tell me, I pray,
You that durst swear at your mistress Bianca
Loved none in the world so well as Lucentio.

O despiteful love! unconstant womankind!
I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful.

Mistake no more: I am not Licio,
Nor a musician, as I seem to be;
But one that scorn to live in this disguise,
For such a one as leaves a gentleman,
And makes a god of such a cullion:
Know, sir, that I am call'd Hortensio.

Signior Hortensio, I have often heard
Of your entire affection to Bianca;
And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness,
I will with you, if you be so *******ed,
Forswear Bianca and her love for ever.

See, how they kiss and court! Signior Lucentio,
Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow
Never to woo her no more, but do forswear her,
As one unworthy all the former favours
That I have fondly flatter'd her withal.

And here I take the unfeigned oath,
Never to marry with her though she would entreat:
Fie on her! see, how beastly she doth court him!

Would all the world but he had quite forsworn!
For me, that I may surely keep mine oath,
I will be married to a wealthy widow,
Ere three days pass, which hath as long loved me
As I have loved this proud disdainful haggard.
And so farewell, Signior Lucentio.
Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks,
Shall win my love: and so I take my leave,
In resolution as I swore before.
Exit

Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace
As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case!
Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love,
And have forsworn you with Hortensio.

Tranio, you jest: but have you both forsworn me?

Mistress, we have.

Then we are rid of Licio.

I' faith, he'll have a lusty widow now,
That shall be wood and wedded in a day.

God give him joy!

Ay, and he'll tame her.

He says so, Tranio.

Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school.

The taming-school! what, is there such a place?

Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master;
That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long,
To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue.
Enter BIONDELLO

O master, master, I have watch'd so long
That I am dog-weary: but at last I spied
An ancient angel coming down the hill,
Will serve the turn.

What is he, Biondello?

Master, a mercatante, or a pedant,
I know not what; but format in apparel,
In gait and countenance surely like a father.

And what of him, Tranio?

If he be credulous and trust my tale,
I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio,
And give assurance to Baptista Minola,
As if he were the right Vincentio
Take in your love, and then let me alone.
Exeunt LUCENTIO and BIANCA
Enter a Pedant

God save you, sir!

And you, sir! you are welcome.
Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest?

Sir, at the farthest for a week or two:
But then up farther, and as for as Rome;
And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life.

What countryman, I pray?

Of Mantua.

Of Mantua, sir? marry, God forbid!
And come to Padua, careless of your life?

My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard.

'Tis death for any one in Mantua
To come to Padua. Know you not the cause?
Your ships are stay'd at Venice, and the duke,
For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him,
Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly:
'Tis, marvel, but that you are but newly come,
You might have heard it else proclaim'd about.

Alas! sir, it is worse for me than so;
For I have bills for money by exchange
From Florence and must here deliver them.

Well, sir, to do you courtesy,
This will I do, and this I will advise you:
First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa?

Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been,
Pisa renowned for grave citizens.

Among them know you one Vincentio?

I know him not, but I have heard of him;
A merchant of incomparable wealth.

He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say,
In countenance somewhat doth resemble you.

[Aside] As much as an apple doth an oyster,
and all one.

To save your life in this extremity,
This favour will I do you for his sake;
And think it not the worst of an your fortunes
That you are like to Sir Vincentio.
His name and credit shall you undertake,
And in my house you shall be friendly lodged:
Look that you take upon you as you should;
You understand me, sir: so shall you stay
Till you have done your business in the city:
If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it.

O sir, I do; and will repute you ever
The patron of my life and liberty.

Then go with me to make the matter good.
This, by the way, I let you understand;
my father is here look'd for every day,
To pass assurance of a dower in marriage
'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here:
In all these circumstances I'll instruct you:
Go with me to clothe you as becomes you.
Exeunt

Enter KATHARINA and GRUMIO

No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my life.

The more my wrong, the more his spite appears:
What, did he marry me to famish me?
Beggars, that come unto my father's door,
Upon entreaty have a present aims;
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity:
But I, who never knew how to entreat,
Nor never needed that I should entreat,
Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep,
With oath kept waking and with brawling fed:
And that which spites me more than all these wants,
He does it under name of perfect love;
As who should say, if I should sleep or eat,
'Twere deadly sickness or else present death.
I prithee go and get me some repast;
I care not what, so it be wholesome food.

What say you to a neat's foot?

'Tis passing good: I prithee let me have it.

I fear it is too choleric a meat.
How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd?

I like it well: good Grumio, fetch it me.

I cannot tell; I fear 'tis choleric.
What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?

A dish that I do love to feed upon.

Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.

Why then, the beef, and let the mustard rest.

Nay then, I will not: you shall have the mustard,
Or else you get no beef of Grumio.

Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.

Why then, the mustard without the beef.

Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave,
Beats him
That feed'st me with the very name of meat:
Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you,
That triumph thus upon my misery!
Go, get thee gone, I say.
Enter PETRUCHIO and HORTENSIO with meat

How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort?

Mistress, what cheer?

Faith, as cold as can be.

Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully upon me.
Here love; thou see'st how diligent I am
To dress thy meat myself and bring it thee:
I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.
What, not a word? Nay, then thou lovest it not;
And all my pains is sorted to no proof.
Here, take away this dish.

I pray you, let it stand.

The poorest service is repaid with thanks;
And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.

I thank you, sir.

Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame.
Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.

[Aside] Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest me.
Much good do it unto thy gentle heart!
Kate, eat apace: and now, my honey love,
Will we return unto thy father's house
And revel it as bravely as the best,
With silken coats and caps and golden rings,
With ruffs and cuffs and fardingales and things;
With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery,
With amber bracelets, beads and all this knavery.
What, hast thou dined? The tailor stays thy leisure,
To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure.
Enter Tailor
Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments;
Lay forth the gown.
Enter Haberdasher
What news with you, sir?

Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.

Why, this was moulded on a porringer;
A velvet dish: fie, fie! 'tis lewd and filthy:
Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-****l,
A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap:
Away with it! come, let me have a bigger.

I'll have no bigger: this doth fit the time,
And gentlewomen wear such caps as these

When you are gentle, you shall have one too,
And not till then.

[Aside] That will not be in haste.

Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak;
And speak I will; I am no child, no babe:
Your betters have endured me say my mind,
And if you cannot, best you stop your ears.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,
Or else my heart concealing it will break,
And rather than it shall, I will be free
Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.

Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap,
A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie:
I love thee well, in that thou likest it not.

Love me or love me not, I like the cap;
And it I will have, or I will have none.
Exit Haberdasher

Thy gown? why, ay: come, tailor, let us see't.
O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here?
What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon:
What, up and down, carved like an apple-tart?
Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash,
Like to a censer in a barber's shop:
Why, what, i' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?

[Aside] I see she's like to have neither cap nor gown.

You bid me make it orderly and well,
According to the fashion and the time.

Marry, and did; but if you be remember'd,
I did not bid you mar it to the time.
Go, hop me over every kennel home,
For you shall hop without my custom, sir:
I'll none of it: hence! make your best of it.

I never saw a better-fashion'd gown,
More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable:
Belike you mean to make a puppet of me.

Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee.

She says your worship means to make
a puppet of her.

O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread,
thou thimble,
Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail!
Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou!
Braved in mine own house with a skein of thread?
Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant;
Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard
As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou livest!
I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.

Your worship is deceived; the gown is made
Just as my master had direction:
Grumio gave order how it should be done.

I gave him no order; I gave him the stuff.

But how did you desire it should be made?

Marry, sir, with needle and thread.

But did you not request to have it cut?

Thou hast faced many things.

I have.

Face not me: thou hast braved many men; brave not
me; I will neither be faced nor braved. I say unto
thee, I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did
not bid him cut it to pieces: ergo, thou liest.

Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify

Read it.

The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so.

[Reads] 'Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown:'

Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in
the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom
of brown thread: I said a gown.

Proceed.

[Reads] 'With a small compassed cape:'

I confess the cape.

[Reads] 'With a trunk sleeve:'

I confess two sleeves.

[Reads] 'The sleeves curiously cut.'

Ay, there's the villany.

Error i' the bill, sir; error i' the bill.
I commanded the sleeves should be cut out and
sewed up again; and that I'll prove upon thee,
though thy little finger be armed in a thimble.

This is true that I say: an I had thee
in place where, thou shouldst know it.

I am for thee straight: take thou the
bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me.

God-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall have no odds.

Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me.

You are i' the right, sir: 'tis for my mistress.

Go, take it up unto thy master's use.

Villain, not for thy life: take up my mistress'
gown for thy master's use!

Why, sir, what's your conceit in that?

O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for:
Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use!
O, fie, fie, fie!

[Aside] Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid.
Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more.

Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown tomorrow:
Take no unkindness of his hasty words:
Away! I say; commend me to thy master.
Exit Tailor

Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father's
Even in these honest mean habiliments:
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor;
For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
What is the jay more precious than the lark,
Because his fathers are more beautiful?
Or is the adder better than the eel,
Because his painted skin *******s the eye?
O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse
For this poor furniture and mean array.
if thou account'st it shame. lay it on me;
And therefore frolic: we will hence forthwith,
To feast and sport us at thy father's house.
Go, call my men, and let us straight to him;
And bring our horses unto Long-lane end;
There will we mount, and thither walk on foot
Let's see; I think 'tis now some seven o'clock,
And well we may come there by dinner-time.

I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two;
And 'twill be supper-time ere you come there.

It shall be seven ere I go to horse:
Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do,
You are still crossing it. Sirs, let't alone:
I will not go to-day; and ere I do,
It shall be what o'clock I say it is.

[Aside] Why, so this gallant will command the sun.
Exeunt

Enter TRANIO, and the Pedant dressed like VINCENTIO

Sir, this is the house: please it you that I call?

Ay, what else? and but I be deceived
Signior Baptista may remember me,
Near twenty years ago, in Genoa,
Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus.

'Tis well; and hold your own, in any case,
With such austerity as 'longeth to a father.

I warrant you.
Enter BIONDELLO
But, sir, here comes your boy;
'Twere good he were school'd.

Fear you not him. Sirrah Biondello,
Now do your duty throughly, I advise you:
Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio.

Tut, fear not me.

But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista?

I told him that your father was at Venice,
And that you look'd for him this day in Padua.

Thou'rt a tall fellow: hold thee that to drink.
Here comes Baptista: set your countenance, sir.
Enter BAPTISTA and LUCENTIO
Signior Baptista, you are happily met.
To the Pedant
Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of:
I pray you stand good father to me now,
Give me Bianca for my patrimony.

Soft son!
Sir, by your leave: having come to Padua
To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio
Made me acquainted with a weighty cause
Of love between your daughter and himself:
And, for the good report I hear of you
And for the love he beareth to your daughter
And she to him, to stay him not too long,
I am *******, in a good father's care,
To have him match'd; and if you please to like
No worse than I, upon some agreement
Me shall you find ready and willing
With one consent to have her so bestow'd;
For curious I cannot be with you,
Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well.

Sir, pardon me in what I have to say:
Your plainness and your shortness please me well.
Right true it is, your son Lucentio here
Doth love my daughter and she loveth him,
Or both dissemble deeply their affections:
And therefore, if you say no more than this,
That like a father you will deal with him
And pass my daughter a sufficient dower,
The match is made, and all is done:
Your son shall have my daughter with consent.

I thank you, sir. Where then do you know best
We be affied and such assurance ta'en
As shall with either part's agreement stand?

Not in my house, Lucentio; for, you know,
Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants:
Besides, old Gremio is hearkening still;
And happily we might be interrupted.

Then at my lodging, an it like you:
There doth my father lie; and there, this night,
We'll pass the business privately and well.
Send for your daughter by your servant here:
My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently.
The worst is this, that, at so slender warning,
You are like to have a thin and slender pittance.

It likes me well. Biondello, hie you home,
And bid Bianca make her ready straight;
And, if you will, tell what hath happened,
Lucentio's father is arrived in Padua,
And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife.

I pray the gods she may with all my heart!

Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone.
Exit BIONDELLO
Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way?
Welcome! one mess is like to be your cheer:
Come, sir; we will better it in Pisa.

I follow you.
Exeunt TRANIO, Pedant, and BAPTISTA
Re-enter BIONDELLO

Cambio!

What sayest thou, Biondello?

You saw my master wink and laugh upon you?

Biondello, what of that?

Faith, nothing; but has left me here behind, to
expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens.

I pray thee, moralize them.

Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking with the
deceiving father of a deceitful son.

And what of him?

His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper.

And then?

The old priest of Saint Luke's church is at your
command at all hours.

And what of all this?

I cannot tell; expect they are busied about a
counterfeit assurance: take you assurance of her,
'cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum:' to the
church; take the priest, clerk, and some sufficient
honest witnesses: If this be not that you look for,
I have no more to say, But bid Bianca farewell for
ever and a day.

Hearest thou, Biondello?

I cannot tarry: I knew a wench married in an
afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley to
stuff a rabbit; and so may you, sir: and so, adieu,
sir. My master hath appointed me to go to Saint
Luke's, to bid the priest be ready to come against
you come with your appendix.
Exit

I may, and will, if she be so *******ed:
She will be pleased; then wherefore should I doubt?
Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her:
It shall go hard if Cambio go without her.
Exit

Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, HORTENSIO, and Servants

Come on, i' God's name; once more toward our father's.
Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon!

The moon! the sun: it is not moonlight now.

I say it is the moon that shines so bright.

I know it is the sun that shines so bright.

Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself,
It shall be moon, or star, or what I list,
Or ere I journey to your father's house.
Go on, and fetch our horses back again.
Evermore cross'd and cross'd; nothing but cross'd!

Say as he says, or we shall never go.

Forward, I pray, since we have come so far,
And be it moon, or sun, or what you please:
An if you please to call it a rush-candle,
Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.

I say it is the moon.

I know it is the moon.

Nay, then you lie: it is the blessed sun.

Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun:
But sun it is not, when you say it is not;
And the moon changes even as your mind.
What you will have it named, even that it is;
And so it shall be so for Katharina.

Petruchio, go thy ways; the field is won.

Well, forward, forward! thus the bowl should run,
And not unluckily against the bias.
But, soft! company is coming here.
Enter VINCENTIO
To VINCENTIO
Good morrow, gentle mistress: where away?
Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,
Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman?
Such war of white and red within her cheeks!
What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty,
As those two eyes become that heavenly face?
Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee.
Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake.

A' will make the man mad, to make a woman of him.

Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet,
Whither away, or where is thy abode?
Happy the parents of so fair a child;
Happier the man, whom favourable stars
Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow!

Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art not mad:
This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd,
And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is.

Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,
That have been so bedazzled with the sun
That everything I look on seemeth green:
Now I perceive thou art a reverend father;
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.

Do, good old grandsire; and withal make known
Which way thou travellest: if along with us,
We shall be joyful of thy company.

Fair sir, and you my merry mistress,
That with your strange encounter much amazed me,
My name is call'd Vincentio; my dwelling Pisa;
And bound I am to Padua; there to visit
A son of mine, which long I have not seen.

What is his name?

Lucentio, gentle sir.

Happily we met; the happier for thy son.
And now by law, as well as reverend age,
I may entitle thee my loving father:
The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman,
Thy son by this hath married. Wonder not,
Nor be grieved: she is of good esteem,
Her dowery wealthy, and of worthy birth;
Beside, so qualified as may beseem
The spouse of any noble gentleman.
Let me embrace with old Vincentio,
And wander we to see thy honest son,
Who will of thy arrival be full joyous.

But is it true? or else is it your pleasure,
Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest
Upon the company you overtake?

I do assure thee, father, so it is.

Come, go along, and see the truth hereof;
For our first merriment hath made thee jealous.
Exeunt all but HORTENSIO

Well, Petruchio, this has put me in heart.
Have to my widow! and if she be froward,
Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward.
Exit

GREMIO discovered. Enter behind BIONDELLO, LUCENTIO, and BIANCA

Softly and swiftly, sir; for the priest is ready.

I fly, Biondello: but they may chance to need thee
at home; therefore leave us.

Nay, faith, I'll see the church o' your back; and
then come back to my master's as soon as I can.
Exeunt LUCENTIO, BIANCA, and BIONDELLO

I marvel Cambio comes not all this while.
Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, VINCENTIO, GRUMIO, with Attendants

Sir, here's the door, this is Lucentio's house:
My father's bears more toward the market-place;
Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir.

You shall not choose but drink before you go:
I think I shall command your welcome here,
And, by all likelihood, some cheer is toward.
Knocks

They're busy within; you were best knock louder.
Pedant looks out of the window

What's he that knocks as he would beat down the gate?

Is Signior Lucentio within, sir?

He's within, sir, but not to be spoken withal.

What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two, to
make merry withal?

Keep your hundred pounds to yourself: he shall
need none, so long as I live.

Nay, I told you your son was well beloved in Padua.
Do you hear, sir? To leave frivolous circumstances,
I pray you, tell Signior Lucentio that his father is
come from Pisa, and is here at the door to speak with him.

Thou liest: his father is come from Padua and here
looking out at the ********

Art thou his father?

Ay, sir; so his mother says, if I may believe her.

[To VINCENTIO] Why, how now, gentleman! why, this
is flat knavery, to take upon you another man's name.

Lay hands on the villain: I believe a' means to
cozen somebody in this city under my countenance.
Re-enter BIONDELLO

I have seen them in the church together: God send
'em good shipping! But who is here? mine old
master Vincentio! now we are undone and brought to nothing.

[Seeing BIONDELLO]
Come hither, crack-hemp.

Hope I may choose, sir.

Come hither, you rogue. What, have you forgot me?

Forgot you! no, sir: I could not forget you, for I
never saw you before in all my life.

What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see
thy master's father, Vincentio?

What, my old worshipful old master? yes, marry, sir:
see where he looks out of the ********

Is't so, indeed.
Beats BIONDELLO

Help, help, help! here's a madman will murder me.
Exit

Help, son! help, Signior Baptista!
Exit from above

Prithee, Kate, let's stand aside and see the end of
this controversy.
They retire
Re-enter Pedant below; TRANIO, BAPTISTA, and Servants

Sir, what are you that offer to beat my servant?

What am I, sir! nay, what are you, sir? O immortal
gods! O fine villain! A silken doublet! a velvet
hose! a scarlet cloak! and a copatain hat! O, I
am undone! I am undone! while I play the good
husband at home, my son and my servant spend all at
the university.

How now! what's the matter?

What, is the man lunatic?

Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your
habit, but your words show you a madman. Why, sir,
what 'cerns it you if I wear pearl and gold? I
thank my good father, I am able to maintain it.

Thy father! O villain! he is a sailmaker in Bergamo.

You mistake, sir, you mistake, sir. Pray, what do
you think is his name?

His name! as if I knew not his name: I have brought
him up ever since he was three years old, and his
name is Tranio.

Away, away, mad ass! his name is Lucentio and he is
mine only son, and heir to the lands of me, Signior Vincentio.

Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his master! Lay hold
on him, I charge you, in the duke's name. O, my
son, my son! Tell me, thou villain, where is my son Lucentio?

Call forth an officer.
Enter one with an Officer
Carry this mad knave to the gaol. Father Baptista,
I charge you see that he be forthcoming.

Carry me to the gaol!

Stay, officer: he shall not go to prison.

Talk not, Signior Gremio: I say he shall go to prison.

Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be
cony-catched in this business: I dare swear this
is the right Vincentio.

Swear, if thou darest.

Nay, I dare not swear it.

Then thou wert best say that I am not Lucentio.

Yes, I know thee to be Signior Lucentio.

Away with the dotard! to the gaol with him!

Thus strangers may be hailed and abused: O
monstrous villain!
Re-enter BIONDELLO, with LUCENTIO and BIANCA

O! we are spoiled and--yonder he is: deny him,
forswear him, or else we are all undone.

[Kneeling] Pardon, sweet father.

Lives my sweet son?
Exeunt BIONDELLO, TRANIO, and Pedant, as fast as may be

Pardon, dear father.

How hast thou offended?
Where is Lucentio?

Here's Lucentio,
Right son to the right Vincentio;
That have by marriage made thy daughter mine,
While counterfeit supposes bleared thine eyne.

Here's packing, with a witness to deceive us all!

Where is that damned villain Tranio,
That faced and braved me in this matter so?

Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio?

Cambio is changed into Lucentio.

Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love
Made me exchange my state with Tranio,
While he did bear my countenance in the town;
And happily I have arrived at the last
Unto the wished haven of my bliss.
What Tranio did, myself enforced him to;
Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake.

I'll slit the villain's nose, that would have sent
me to the gaol.

But do you hear, sir? have you married my daughter
without asking my good will?

Fear not, Baptista; we will ******* you, go to: but
I will in, to be revenged for this villany.
Exit

And I, to sound the depth of this knavery.
Exit

Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown.
Exeunt LUCENTIO and BIANCA

My cake is dough; but I'll in among the rest,
Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast.
Exit

Husband, let's follow, to see the end of this ado.

First kiss me, Kate, and we will.

What, in the midst of the street?

What, art thou ashamed of me?

No, sir, God forbid; but ashamed to kiss.

Why, then let's home again. Come, sirrah, let's away.

Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now pray thee, love, stay.

Is not this well? Come, my sweet Kate:
Better once than never, for never too late.
Exeunt

Enter BAPTISTA, VINCENTIO, GREMIO, the Pedant, LUCENTIO, BIANCA, PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, HORTENSIO, and Widow, TRANIO, BIONDELLO, and GRUMIO the Serving-men with Tranio bringing in a banquet

At last, though long, our jarring notes agree:
And time it is, when raging war is done,
To smile at scapes and perils overblown.
My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome,
While I with self-same kindness welcome thine.
Brother Petruchio, sister Katharina,
And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow,
Feast with the best, and welcome to my house:
My banquet is to close our stomachs up,
After our great good cheer. Pray you, sit down;
For now we sit to chat as well as eat.

Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat!

Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchio.

Padua affords nothing but what is kind.

For both our sakes, I would that word were true.

Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow.

Then never trust me, if I be afeard.

You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense:
I mean, Hortensio is afeard of you.

He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.

Roundly replied.

Mistress, how mean you that?

Thus I conceive by him.

Conceives by me! How likes Hortensio that?

My widow says, thus she conceives her tale.

Very well mended. Kiss him for that, good widow.

'He that is giddy thinks the world turns round:'
I pray you, tell me what you meant by that.

Your husband, being troubled with a shrew,
Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe:
And now you know my meaning,

A very mean meaning.

Right, I mean you.

And I am mean indeed, respecting you.

To her, Kate!

To her, widow!

A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down.

That's my office.

Spoke like an officer; ha' to thee, lad!
Drinks to HORTENSIO

How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks?

Believe me, sir, they butt together well.

Head, and butt! an hasty-witted body
Would say your head and butt were head and horn.

Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken'd you?

Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I'll sleep again.

Nay, that you shall not: since you have begun,
Have at you for a bitter jest or two!

Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush;
And then pursue me as you draw your bow.
You are welcome all.
Exeunt BIANCA, KATHARINA, and Widow

She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio.
This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not;
Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd.

O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his greyhound,
Which runs himself and catches for his master.

A good swift simile, but something currish.

'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself:
'Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay.

O ho, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now.

I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio.

Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here?

A' has a little gall'd me, I confess;
And, as the jest did glance away from me,
'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright.

Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio,
I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.

Well, I say no: and therefore for assurance
Let's each one send unto his wife;
And he whose wife is most obedient
To come at first when he doth send for her,
Shall win the wager which we will propose.

*******. What is the wager?

Twenty crowns.

Twenty crowns!
I'll venture so much of my hawk or hound,
But twenty times so much upon my wife.

A hundred then.

*******.

A match! 'tis done.

Who shall begin?

That will I.
Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me.

I go.
Exit

Son, I'll be your half, Bianca comes.

I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself.
Re-enter BIONDELLO
How now! what news?

Sir, my mistress sends you word
That she is busy and she cannot come.

How! she is busy and she cannot come!
Is that an answer?

Ay, and a kind one too:
Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse.

I hope better.

Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife
To come to me forthwith.
Exit BIONDELLO

O, ho! entreat her!
Nay, then she must needs come.

I am afraid, sir,
Do what you can, yours will not be entreated.
Re-enter BIONDELLO
Now, where's my wife?

She says you have some goodly jest in hand:
She will not come: she bids you come to her.

Worse and worse; she will not come! O vile,
Intolerable, not to be endured!
Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress;
Say, I command her to come to me.
Exit GRUMIO

I know her answer.

What?

She will not.

The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.

Now, by my holidame, here comes Katharina!
Re-enter KATARINA

What is your will, sir, that you send for me?

Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife?

They sit conferring by the parlor fire.

Go fetch them hither: if they deny to come.
Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands:
Away, I say, and bring them hither straight.
Exit KATHARINA

Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.

And so it is: I wonder what it bodes.

Marry, peace it bodes, and love and quiet life,
And awful rule and right supremacy;
And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy?

Now, fair befal thee, good Petruchio!
The wager thou hast won; and I will add
Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns;
Another dowry to another daughter,
For she is changed, as she had never been.

Nay, I will win my wager better yet
And show more sign of her obedience,
Her new-built virtue and obedience.
See where she comes and brings your froward wives
As prisoners to her womanly persuasion.
Re-enter KATHARINA, with BIANCA and Widow
Katharina, that cap of yours becomes you not:
Off with that bauble, throw it under-foot.

Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh,
Till I be brought to such a silly pass!

Fie! what a foolish duty call you this?

I would your duty were as foolish too:
The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca,
Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time.

The more fool you, for laying on my duty.

Katharina, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women
What duty they do owe their lords and husbands.

Come, come, you're mocking: we will have no telling.

Come on, I say; and first begin with her.

She shall not.

I say she shall: and first begin with her.

Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow,
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor:
It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads,
Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds,
And in no sense is meet or amiable.
A woman moved is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty;
And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance commits his body
To painful labour both by sea and land,
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks and true obedience;
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince
Even such a woman oweth to her husband;
And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And not obedient to his honest will,
What is she but a foul contending rebel
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
I am ashamed that women are so simple
To offer war where they should kneel for peace;
Or seek for rule, supremacy and sway,
When they are bound to serve, love and obey.
Why are our bodies soft and weak and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
But that our soft conditions and our hearts
Should well agree with our external parts?
Come, come, you froward and unable worms!
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason haply more,
To bandy word for word and frown for frown;
But now I see our lances are but straws,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
And place your hands below your husband's foot:
In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready; may it do him ease.

Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.

Well, go thy ways, old lad; for thou shalt ha't.

'Tis a good hearing when children are toward.

But a harsh hearing when women are froward.

Come, Kate, we'll to bed.
We three are married, but you two are sped.
To LUCENTIO
'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white;
And, being a winner, God give you good night!
Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA

Now, go thy ways; thou hast tamed a curst shrew.

'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tamed so.
Exeunt

of thunder and lightning heard.
Enter a Master and a Boatswain

Boatswain!

Here, master: what cheer?

Good, speak to the mariners: fall to't, yarely,
or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.
Exit
Enter Mariners

Heigh, my hearts! cheerly, cheerly, my hearts!
yare, yare! Take in the topsail. Tend to the
master's whistle. Blow, till thou burst thy wind,
if room enough!
Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, FERDINAND, GONZALO, and others

Good boatswain, have care. Where's the master?
Play the men.

I pray now, keep below.

Where is the master, boatswain?

Do you not hear him? You mar our labour: keep your
cabins: you do assist the storm.

Nay, good, be patient.

When the sea is. Hence! What cares these roarers
for the name of king? To cabin: silence! trouble us not.

Good, yet remember whom thou hast aboard.

None that I more love than myself. You are a
counsellor; if you can command these elements to
silence, and work the peace of the present, we will
not hand a rope more; use your authority: if you
cannot, give thanks you have lived so long, and make
yourself ready in your cabin for the mischance of
the hour, if it so hap. Cheerly, good hearts! Out
of our way, I say.
Exit

I have great comfort from this fellow: methinks he
hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is
perfect gallows. Stand fast, good Fate, to his
hanging: make the rope of his destiny our cable,
for our own doth little advantage. If he be not
born to be hanged, our case is miserable.
Exeunt
Re-enter Boatswain

Down with the topmast! yare! lower, lower! Bring
her to try with main-course.
A cry within
A plague upon this howling! they are louder than
the weather or our office.
Re-enter SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, and GONZALO
Yet again! what do you here? Shall we give o'er
and drown? Have you a mind to sink?

A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous,
incharitable dog!

Work you then.

Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker!
We are less afraid to be drowned than thou art.

I'll warrant him for drowning; though the ship were
no stronger than a nut****l and as leaky as an
unstanched wench.

Lay her a-hold, a-hold! set her two courses off to
sea again; lay her off.
Enter Mariners wet

All lost! to prayers, to prayers! all lost!

What, must our mouths be cold?

The king and prince at prayers! let's assist them,
For our case is as theirs.

I'm out of patience.

We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards:
This wide-chapp'd rascal--would thou mightst lie drowning
The washing of ten tides!

He'll be hang'd yet,
Though every drop of water swear against it
And gape at widest to glut him.
A confused noise within: 'Mercy on us!'-- 'We split, we split!'--'Farewell, my wife and children!'-- 'Farewell, brother!'--'We split, we split, we split!'

Let's all sink with the king.

Let's take leave of him.
Exeunt ANTONIO and SEBASTIAN

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an
acre of barren ground, long heath, brown furze, any
thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain
die a dry death.
Exeunt

Enter PROSPERO and MIRANDA

If by your art, my dearest father, you have
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.
The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,
But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,
Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffered
With those that I saw suffer: a brave vessel,
Who had, no doubt, some noble creature in her,
Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock
Against my very heart. Poor souls, they perish'd.
Had I been any god of power, I would
Have sunk the sea within the earth or ere
It should the good ship so have swallow'd and
The fraughting souls within her.

Be collected:
No more amazement: tell your piteous heart
There's no harm done.

O, woe the day!

No harm.
I have done nothing but in care of thee,
Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, who
Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing
Of whence I am, nor that I am more better
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell,
And thy no greater father.

More to know
Did never meddle with my thoughts.

'Tis time
I should inform thee farther. Lend thy hand,
And pluck my magic garment from me. So:
Lays down his mantle
Lie there, my art. Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.
The direful spectacle of the wreck, which touch'd
The very virtue of compassion in thee,
I have with such provision in mine art
So safely ordered that there is no soul--
No, not so much perdition as an hair
Betid to any creature in the vessel
Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st sink. Sit down;
For thou must now know farther.

You have often
Begun to tell me what I am, but stopp'd
And left me to a bootless inquisition,
Concluding 'Stay: not yet.'

The hour's now come;
The very minute bids thee ope thine ear;
Obey and be attentive. Canst thou remember
A time before we came unto this cell?
I do not think thou canst, for then thou wast not
Out three years old.

Certainly, sir, I can.

By what? by any other house or person?
Of any thing the image tell me that
Hath kept with thy remembrance.

'Tis far off
And rather like a dream than an assurance
That my remembrance warrants. Had I not
Four or five women once that tended me?

Thou hadst, and more, Miranda. But how is it
That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else
In the dark backward and abysm of time?
If thou remember'st aught ere thou camest here,
How thou camest here thou mayst.

But that I do not.

Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve year since,
Thy father was the Duke of Milan and
A prince of power.

Sir, are not you my father?

Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and
She said thou wast my daughter; and thy father
Was Duke of Milan; and thou his only heir
And princess no worse issued.

O the heavens!
What foul play had we, that we came from thence?
Or blessed was't we did?

Both, both, my girl:
By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heaved thence,
But blessedly holp hither.

O, my heart bleeds
To think o' the teen that I have turn'd you to,
Which is from my remembrance! Please you, farther.

My brother and thy uncle, call'd Antonio--
I pray thee, mark me--that a brother should
Be so perfidious!--he whom next thyself
Of all the world I loved and to him put
The manage of my state; as at that time
Through all the signories it was the first
And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed
In dignity, and for the liberal arts
Without a parallel; those being all my study,
The government I cast upon my brother
And to my state grew stranger, being transported
And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle--
Dost thou attend me?

Sir, most heedfully.

Being once perfected how to grant suits,
How to deny them, who to advance and who
To trash for over-topping, new created
The creatures that were mine, I say, or changed 'em,
Or else new form'd 'em; having both the key
Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state
To what tune pleased his ear; that now he was
The ivy which had hid my princely trunk,
And suck'd my verdure out on't. Thou attend'st not.

O, good sir, I do.

I pray thee, mark me.
I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated
To closeness and the bettering of my mind
With that which, but by being so retired,
O'er-prized all popular rate, in my false brother
Awaked an evil nature; and my trust,
Like a good parent, did beget of him
A falsehood in its contrary as great
As my trust was; which had indeed no limit,
A confidence sans bound. He being thus lorded,
Not only with what my revenue yielded,
But what my power might else exact, like one
Who having into truth, by telling of it,
Made such a sinner of his memory,
To credit his own lie, he did believe
He was indeed the duke; out o' the substitution
And executing the outward face of royalty,
With all prerogative: hence his ambition growing--
Dost thou hear?

Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.

To have no screen between this part he play'd
And him he play'd it for, he needs will be
Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library
Was dukedom large enough: of temporal royalties
He thinks me now incapable; confederates--
So dry he was for sway--wi' the King of Naples
To give him annual tribute, do him homage,
Subject his coronet to his crown and bend
The dukedom yet unbow'd--alas, poor Milan!--
To most ignoble stooping.

O the heavens!

Mark his condition and the event; then tell me
If this might be a brother.

I should sin
To think but nobly of my grandmother:
Good wombs have borne bad sons.

Now the condition.
The King of Naples, being an enemy
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit;
Which was, that he, in lieu o' the premises
Of homage and I know not how much tribute,
Should presently extirpate me and mine
Out of the dukedom and confer fair Milan
With all the honours on my brother: whereon,
A treacherous army levied, one midnight
Fated to the purpose did Antonio open
The gates of Milan, and, i' the dead of darkness,
The ministers for the purpose hurried thence
Me and thy crying self.

Alack, for pity!
I, not remembering how I cried out then,
Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint
That wrings mine eyes to't.

Hear a little further
And then I'll bring thee to the present business
Which now's upon's; without the which this story
Were most impertinent.

Wherefore did they not
That hour destroy us?

Well demanded, wench:
My tale provokes that question. Dear, they durst not,
So dear the love my people bore me, nor set
A mark so bloody on the business, but
With colours fairer painted their foul ends.
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark,
Bore us some leagues to sea; where they prepared
A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats
Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist us,
To cry to the sea that roar'd to us, to sigh
To the winds whose pity, sighing back again,
Did us but loving wrong.

Alack, what trouble
Was I then to you!

O, a cherubim
Thou wast that did preserve me. Thou didst smile.
Infused with a fortitude from heaven,
When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt,
Under my burthen groan'd; which raised in me
An undergoing stomach, to bear up
Against what should ensue.

How came we ashore?

By Providence divine.
Some food we had and some fresh water that
A noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo,
Out of his charity, being then appointed
Master of this design, did give us, with
Rich garments, linens, stuffs and necessaries,
Which since have steaded much; so, of his gentleness,
Knowing I loved my books, he furnish'd me
From mine own library with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom.

Would I might
But ever see that man!

Now I arise:
Resumes his mantle
Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here in this island we arrived; and here
Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princesses can that have more time
For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.

Heavens thank you for't! And now, I pray you, sir,
For still 'tis beating in my mind, your reason
For raising this sea-storm?

Know thus far forth.
By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune,
Now my dear lady, hath mine enemies
Brought to this shore; and by my prescience
I find my zenith doth depend upon
A most auspicious star, whose influence
If now I court not but omit, my fortunes
Will ever after droop. Here cease more questions:
Thou art inclined to sleep; 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way: I know thou canst not choose.
MIRANDA sleeps
Come away, servant, come. I am ready now.
Approach, my Ariel, come.
Enter ARIEL

All hail, great master! grave sir, hail! I come
To answer thy best pleasure; be't to fly,
To swim, to dive into the fire, to ride
On the curl'd clouds, to thy strong bidding task
Ariel and all his quality.

Hast thou, spirit,
Perform'd to point the tempest that I bade thee?

To every article.
I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flamed amazement: sometime I'ld divide,
And burn in many places; on the topmast,
The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet and join. Jove's lightnings, the precursors
O' the dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary
And sight-outrunning were not; the fire and cracks
Of sulphurous roaring the most mighty Neptune
Seem to besiege and make his bold waves tremble,
Yea, his dread trident shake.

My brave spirit!
Who was so firm, so constant, that this coil
Would not infect his reason?

Not a soul
But felt a fever of the mad and play'd
Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners
Plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel,
Then all afire with me: the king's son, Ferdinand,
With hair up-staring,--then like reeds, not hair,--
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, 'Hell is empty
And all the devils are here.'

Why that's my spirit!
But was not this nigh shore?

Close by, my master.

But are they, Ariel, safe?

Not a hair perish'd;
On their sustaining garments not a blemish,
But fresher than before: and, as thou badest me,
In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle.
The king's son have I landed by himself;
Whom I left cooling of the air with sighs
In an odd angle of the isle and sitting,
His arms in this sad knot.

Of the king's ship
The mariners say how thou hast disposed
And all the rest o' the fleet.

Safely in harbour
Is the king's ship; in the deep nook, where once
Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew
From the still-vex'd Bermoothes, there she's hid:
The mariners all under hatches stow'd;
Who, with a charm join'd to their suffer'd labour,
I have left asleep; and for the rest o' the fleet
Which I dispersed, they all have met again
And are upon the Mediterranean flote,
Bound sadly home for Naples,
Supposing that they saw the king's ship wreck'd
And his great person perish.

Ariel, thy charge
Exactly is perform'd: but there's more work.
What is the time o' the day?

Past the mid season.

At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now
Must by us both be spent most preciously.

Is there more toil? Since thou dost give me pains,
Let me remember thee what thou hast promised,
Which is not yet perform'd me.

How now? moody?
What is't thou canst demand?

My liberty.

Before the time be out? no more!

I prithee,
Remember I have done thee worthy service;
Told thee no lies, made thee no mistakings, served
Without or grudge or grumblings: thou didst promise
To bate me a full year.

Dost thou forget
From what a torment I did free thee?

No.

Thou dost, and think'st it much to tread the ooze
Of the salt deep,
To run upon the sharp wind of the north,
To do me business in the veins o' the earth
When it is baked with frost.

I do not, sir.

Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thou forgot
The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy
Was grown into a hoop? hast thou forgot her?

No, sir.

Thou hast. Where was she born? speak; tell me.

Sir, in Argier.

O, was she so? I must
Once in a month recount what thou hast been,
Which thou forget'st. This damn'd witch Sycorax,
For mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible
To enter human hearing, from Argier,
Thou know'st, was banish'd: for one thing she did
They would not take her life. Is not this true?

Ay, sir.

This blue-eyed hag was hither brought with child
And here was left by the sailors. Thou, my slave,
As thou report'st thyself, wast then her servant;
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands,
Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
By help of her more potent ministers
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain
A dozen years; within which space she died
And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans
As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island--
Save for the son that she did litter here,
A freckled whelp hag-born--not honour'd with
A human shape.

Yes, Caliban her son.

Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban
Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st
What torment I did find thee in; thy groans
Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts
Of ever angry bears: it was a torment
To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax
Could not again undo: it was mine art,
When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape
The pine and let thee out.

I thank thee, master.

If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak
And peg thee in his knotty entrails till
Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.

Pardon, master;
I will be correspondent to command
And do my spiriting gently.

Do so, and after two days
I will discharge thee.

That's my noble master!
What shall I do? say what; what shall I do?

Go make thyself like a nymph o' the sea: be subject
To no sight but thine and mine, invisible
To every eyeball else. Go take this shape
And hither come in't: go, hence with diligence!
Exit ARIEL
Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; Awake!

The strangeness of your story put
Heaviness in me.

Shake it off. Come on;
We'll visit Caliban my slave, who never
Yields us kind answer.

'Tis a villain, sir,
I do not love to look on.

But, as 'tis,
We cannot miss him: he does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood and serves in offices
That profit us. What, ho! slave! Caliban!
Thou earth, thou! speak.

[Within] There's wood enough within.

Come forth, I say! there's other business for thee:
Come, thou tortoise! when?
Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph
Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,
Hark in thine ear.

My lord it shall be done.
Exit

Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself
Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!
Enter CALIBAN

As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd
With raven's feather from unwholesome fen
Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye
And blister you all o'er!

For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work,
All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd
As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging
Than bees that made 'em.

I must eat my dinner.
This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother,
Which thou takest from me. When thou camest first,
Thou strokedst me and madest much of me, wouldst give me
Water with berries in't, and teach me how
To name the bigger light, and how the less,
That burn by day and night: and then I loved thee
And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle,
The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile:
Cursed be I that did so! All the charms
Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!
For I am all the subjects that you have,
Which first was mine own king: and here you sty me
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me
The rest o' the island.

Thou most lying slave,
Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have used thee,
Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodged thee
In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate
The honour of my child.

O ho, O ho! would't had been done!
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else
This isle with Calibans.

Abhorred slave,
Which any print of goodness wilt not take,
Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee,
Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour
One thing or other: when thou didst not, savage,
Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like
A thing most brutish, I endow'd thy purposes
With words that made them known. But thy vile race,
Though thou didst learn, had that in't which
good natures
Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou
Deservedly confined into this rock,
Who hadst deserved more than a prison.

You taught me ********; and my profit on't
Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you
For learning me your ********!

Hag-seed, hence!
Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou'rt best,
To answer other business. Shrug'st thou, malice?
If thou neglect'st or dost unwillingly
What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps,
Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

No, pray thee.
Aside
I must obey: his art is of such power,
It would control my dam's god, Setebos,
and make a vassal of him.

So, slave; hence!
Exit CALIBAN
Re-enter ARIEL, invisible, playing and singing; FERDINAND following
ARIEL'S song.
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:
Courtsied when you have and kiss'd
The wild waves whist,
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
Hark, hark!
Burthen [dispersedly, within
The watch-dogs bark!
Burthen Bow-wow
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.

Where should this music be? i' the air or the earth?
It sounds no more: and sure, it waits upon
Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the king my father's wreck,
This music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury and my passion
With its sweet air: thence I have follow'd it,
Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.
No, it begins again.
ARIEL sings
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell
Burthen Ding-dong
Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell.

The ditty does remember my drown'd father.
This is no mortal business, nor no sound
That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.

The fringed curtains of thine eye advance
And say what thou seest yond.

What is't? a spirit?
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form. But 'tis a spirit.

No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses
As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest
Was in the wreck; and, but he's something stain'd
With grief that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him
A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows
And strays about to find 'em.

I might call him
A thing divine, for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.

[Aside] It goes on, I see,
As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee
Within two days for this.

Most sure, the goddess
On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my prayer
May know if you remain upon this island;
And that you will some good instruction give
How I may bear me here: my prime request,
Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!
If you be maid or no?

No wonder, sir;
But certainly a maid.

My ********! heavens!
I am the best of them that speak this speech,
Were I but where 'tis spoken.

How? the best?
What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?

A single thing, as I am now, that wonders
To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me;
And that he does I weep: myself am Naples,
Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld
The king my father wreck'd.

Alack, for mercy!

Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan
And his brave son being twain.

[Aside] The Duke of Milan
And his more braver daughter could control thee,
If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first sight
They have changed eyes. Delicate Ariel,
I'll set thee free for this.
To FERDINAND
A word, good sir;
I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word.

Why speaks my father so ungently? This
Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first
That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father
To be inclined my way!

O, if a virgin,
And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you
The queen of Naples.

Soft, sir! one word more.
Aside
They are both in either's powers; but this swift business
I must uneasy make, lest too light winning
Make the prize light.
To FERDINAND
One word more; I charge thee
That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp
The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself
Upon this island as a spy, to win it
From me, the lord on't.

No, as I am a man.

There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple:
If the ill spirit have so fair a house,
Good things will strive to dwell with't.

Follow me.
Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come;
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together:
Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be
The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

No;
I will resist such entertainment till
Mine enemy has more power.
Draws, and is charmed from moving

O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle and not fearful.

What? I say,
My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscience
Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy ward,
For I can here disarm thee with this stick
And make thy weapon drop.

Beseech you, father.

Hence! hang not on my garments.

Sir, have pity;
I'll be his surety.

Silence! one word more
Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
An advocate for an imposter! hush!
Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!
To the most of men this is a Caliban
And they to him are angels.

My affections
Are then most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

Come on; obey:
Thy nerves are in their infancy again
And have no vigour in them.

So they are;
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats,
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.

[Aside] It works.
To FERDINAND
Come on.
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel!
To FERDINAND
Follow me.
To ARIEL
Hark what thou else shalt do me.

Be of comfort;
My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted
Which now came from him.

Thou shalt be free
As mountain winds: but then exactly do
All points of my command.

To the syllable.

Come, follow. Speak not for him.
Exeunt

Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others

Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause,
So have we all, of joy; for our escape
Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe
Is common; every day some sailor's wife,
The masters of some merchant and the merchant
Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,
I mean our preservation, few in millions
Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.

Prithee, peace.

He receives comfort like cold porridge.

The visitor will not give him o'er so.

Look he's winding up the watch of his wit;
by and by it will strike.

Sir,--

One: tell.

When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd,
Comes to the entertainer--

A dollar.

Dolour comes to him, indeed: you
have spoken truer than you purposed.

You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

Therefore, my lord,--

Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!

I prithee, spare.

Well, I have done: but yet,--

He will be talking.

Which, of he or Adrian, for a good
wager, first begins to crow?

The old cock.

The cockerel.

Done. The wager?

A laughter.

A match!

Though this island seem to be desert,--

Ha, ha, ha! So, you're paid.

Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible,--

Yet,--

Yet,--

He could not miss't.

It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate
temperance.

Temperance was a delicate wench.

Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.

The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.

As if it had lungs and rotten ones.

Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen.

Here is everything advantageous to life.

True; save means to live.

Of that there's none, or little.

How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

The ground indeed is tawny.

With an eye of green in't.

He misses not much.

No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.

But the rarity of it is,--which is indeed almost
beyond credit,--

As many vouched rarities are.

That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in
the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and
glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with
salt water.

If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not
say he lies?

Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report

Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we
put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of
the king's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.

'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to
their queen.

Not since widow Dido's time.

Widow! a pox o' that! How came that widow in?
widow Dido!

What if he had said 'widower AEneas' too? Good Lord,
how you take it!

'Widow Dido' said you? you make me study of that:
she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.

Carthage?

I assure you, Carthage.

His word is more than the miraculous harp; he hath
raised the wall and houses too.

What impossible matter will he make easy next?

I think he will carry this island home in his pocket
and give it his son for an apple.

And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring
forth more islands.

Ay.

Why, in good time.

Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now
as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage
of your daughter, who is now queen.

And the rarest that e'er came there.

Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido.

Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I
wore it? I mean, in a sort.

That sort was well fished for.

When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?

You cram these words into mine ears against
The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy removed
I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee?

Sir, he may live:
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head
'Bove the *******ious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt
He came alive to land.

No, no, he's gone.

Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,
That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,
But rather lose her to an African;
Where she at least is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.

Prithee, peace.

You were kneel'd to and importuned otherwise
By all of us, and the fair soul herself
Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at
Which end o' the beam should bow. We have lost your
son,
I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have
More widows in them of this business' making
Than we bring men to comfort them:
The fault's your own.

So is the dear'st o' the loss.

My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness
And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaster.

Very well.

And most chirurgeonly.

It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.

Foul weather?

Very foul.

Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,--

He'ld sow't with nettle-seed.

Or docks, or mallows.

And were the king on't, what would I do?

'Scape being drunk for want of wine.

I' the commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things; for no kind of traffic
Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
No use of ****l, corn, or wine, or oil;
No occupation; all men idle, all;
And women too, but innocent and pure;
No sovereignty;--

Yet he would be king on't.

The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the
beginning.

All things in common nature should produce
Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,
Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.

No marrying 'mong his subjects?

None, man; all idle: whores and knaves.

I would with such perfection govern, sir,
To excel the golden age.

God save his majesty!

Long live Gonzalo!

And,--do you mark me, sir?

Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.

I do well believe your highness; and
did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen,
who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that
they always use to laugh at nothing.

'Twas you we laughed at.

Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing
to you: so you may continue and laugh at
nothing still.

What a blow was there given!

An it had not fallen flat-long.

You are gentlemen of brave ****l; you would lift
the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue
in it five weeks without changing.
Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music

We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.

Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

No, I warrant you; I will not adventure
my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh
me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Go sleep, and hear us.
All sleep except ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO

What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find
They are inclined to do so.

Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.

We two, my lord,
Will guard your person while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.

Thank you. Wondrous heavy.
ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL

What a strange drowsiness possesses them!

It is the quality o' the climate.

Why
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
Myself disposed to sleep.

Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent;
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
Worthy Sebastian? O, what might?--No more:--
And yet me thinks I see it in thy face,
What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.

What, art thou waking?

Do you not hear me speak?

I do; and surely
It is a sleepy ******** and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep
With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
And yet so fast asleep.

Noble Sebastian,
Thou let'st thy fortune sleep--die, rather; wink'st
Whiles thou art waking.

Thou dost snore distinctly;
There's meaning in thy snores.

I am more serious than my custom: you
Must be so too, if heed me; which to do
Trebles thee o'er.

Well, I am standing water.

I'll teach you how to flow.

Do so: to ebb
Hereditary sloth instructs me.

O,
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish
Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,
You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,
Most often do so near the bottom run
By their own fear or sloth.

Prithee, say on:
The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim
A matter from thee, and a birth indeed
Which throes thee much to yield.

Thus, sir:
Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,
Who shall be of as little memory
When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuade,--
For he's a spirit of persuasion, only
Professes to persuade,--the king his son's alive,
'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd
And he that sleeps here swims.

I have no hope
That he's undrown'd.

O, out of that 'no hope'
What great hope have you! no hope that way is
Another way so high a hope that even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me
That Ferdinand is drown'd?

He's gone.

Then, tell me,
Who's the next heir of Naples?

Claribel.

She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells
Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples
Can have no note, unless the sun were post--
The man i' the moon's too slow--till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable; she that--from whom?
We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again,
And by that destiny to perform an act
Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come
In yours and my discharge.

What stuff is this! how say you?
'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis;
So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions
There is some space.

A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, 'How shall that Claribel
Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake.' Say, this were death
That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse
Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples
As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate
As amply and unnecessarily
As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?

Methinks I do.

And how does your *******
Tender your own good fortune?

I remember
You did supplant your brother Prospero.

True:
And look how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater than before: my brother's servants
Were then my fellows; now they are my men.

But, for your conscience?

Ay, sir; where lies that? if 'twere a kibe,
'Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not
This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,
That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they
And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother,
No better than the earth he lies upon,
If he were that which now he's like, that's dead;
Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,
To the perpetual wink for aye might put
This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk;
They'll tell the clock to any business that
We say befits the hour.

Thy case, dear friend,
Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan,
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou payest;
And I the king shall love thee.

Draw together;
And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.

O, but one word.
They talk apart
Re-enter ARIEL, invisible

My master through his art foresees the danger
That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth--
For else his project dies--to keep them living.
Sings in GONZALO's ear
While you here do snoring lie,
Open-eyed conspiracy
His time doth take.
If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber, and beware:
Awake, awake!

Then let us both be sudden.

Now, good angels
Preserve the king.
They wake

Why, how now? ho, awake! Why are you drawn?
Wherefore this ghastly looking?

What's the matter?

Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like bulls, or rather lions: did't not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly.

I heard nothing.

O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear,
To make an earthquake! sure, it was the roar
Of a whole herd of lions.

Heard you this, Gonzalo?

Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me:
I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd,
I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise,
That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard,
Or that we quit this place; let's draw our weapons.

Lead off this ground; and let's make further search
For my poor son.

Heavens keep him from these beasts!
For he is, sure, i' the island.

Lead away.

Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:
So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.
Exeunt

Enter CALIBAN with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard

All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make him
By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin--shows, pitch me i' the mire,
Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but
For every trifle are they set upon me;
Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me
And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount
Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I
All wound with adders who with cloven tongues
Do hiss me into madness.
Enter TRINCULO
Lo, now, lo!
Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me
For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat;
Perchance he will not mind me.

Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off
any weather at all, and another storm brewing;
I hear it sing i' the wind: yond same black
cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul
bombard that would shed his liquor. If it
should thunder as it did before, I know not
where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot
choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we
here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish:
he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-
like smell; a kind of not of the newest Poor-
John. A strange fish! Were I in England now,
as once I was, and had but this fish painted,
not a holiday fool there but would give a piece
of silver: there would this monster make a
man; any strange beast there makes a man:
when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame
beggar, they will lazy out ten to see a dead
Indian. Legged like a man and his fins like
arms! Warm o' my troth! I do now let loose
my opinion; hold it no longer: this is no fish,
but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a
thunderbolt.
Thunder
Alas, the storm is come again! my best way is to
creep under his gaberdine; there is no other
****ter hereabouts: misery acquaints a man with
strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the
dregs of the storm be past.
Enter STEPHANO, singing: a bottle in his hand

I shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I die ashore--
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's
funeral: well, here's my comfort.
Drinks
Sings
The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I,
The gunner and his mate
Loved Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery,
But none of us cared for Kate;
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!
She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch,
Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch:
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang!
This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort.
Drinks

Do not torment me: Oh!

What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put
tricks upon's with savages and men of Ind, ha? I
have not scaped drowning to be afeard now of your
four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as
ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground;
and it shall be said so again while Stephano
breathes at's nostrils.

The spirit torments me; Oh!

This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who
hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil
should he learn our ********? I will give him some
relief, if it be but for that. if I can recover him
and keep him tame and get to Naples with him, he's a
present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's leather.

Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood home faster.

He's in his fit now and does not talk after the
wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have
never drunk wine afore will go near to remove his
fit. If I can recover him and keep him tame, I will
not take too much for him; he shall pay for him that
hath him, and that soundly.

Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I
know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee.

Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that
which will give ******** to you, cat: open your
mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you,
and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend:
open your chaps again.

I should know that voice: it should be--but he is
drowned; and these are devils: O defend me!

Four legs and two voices: a most delicate monster!
His forward voice now is to speak well of his
friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches
and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will
recover him, I will help his ague. Come. Amen! I
will pour some in thy other mouth.

Stephano!

Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This is
a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no
long spoon.

Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me and
speak to me: for I am Trinculo--be not afeard--thy
good friend Trinculo.

If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I'll pull thee
by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs,
these are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How
camest thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? can
he vent Trinculos?

I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke. But
art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now thou art
not drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid me
under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of
the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O
Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scaped!

Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.

[Aside] These be fine things, an if they be
not sprites.
That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor.
I will kneel to him.

How didst thou 'scape? How camest thou hither?
swear by this bottle how thou camest hither. I
escaped upon a butt of sack which the sailors
heaved o'erboard, by this bottle; which I made of
the bark of a tree with mine own hands since I was
cast ashore.

I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject;
for the liquor is not earthly.

Here; swear then how thou escapedst.

Swum ashore. man, like a duck: I can swim like a
duck, I'll be sworn.

Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a
duck, thou art made like a goose.

O Stephano. hast any more of this?

The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by the
sea-side where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf!
how does thine ague?

Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven?

Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man i'
the moon when time was.

I have seen thee in her and I do adore thee:
My mistress show'd me thee and thy dog and thy bush.

Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish
it anon with new *******s swear.

By this good light, this is a very shallow monster!
I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The man i'
the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well
drawn, monster, in good sooth!

I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island;
And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god.

By this light, a most perfidious and drunken
monster! when 's god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle.

I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject.

Come on then; down, and swear.

I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed
monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my
heart to beat him,--

Come, kiss.

But that the poor monster's in drink: an abominable monster!

I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries;
I'll fish for thee and get thee wood enough.
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!
I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
Thou wondrous man.

A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a
Poor drunkard!

I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;
And I with my long nails will dig thee pignuts;
Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee
To clustering filberts and sometimes I'll get thee
Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?

I prithee now, lead the way without any more
talking. Trinculo, the king and all our company
else being drowned, we will inherit here: here;
bear my bottle: fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by
and by again.

[Sings drunkenly]
Farewell master; farewell, farewell!

A howling monster: a drunken monster!

No more dams I'll make for fish
Nor fetch in firing
At requiring;
Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish
'Ban, 'Ban, Cacaliban
Has a new master: get a new man.
Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom,
hey-day, freedom!

O brave monster! Lead the way.
Exeunt

Enter CALIBAN with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard

All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall and make him
By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch,
Fright me with urchin--shows, pitch me i' the mire,
Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but
For every trifle are they set upon me;
Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me
And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount
Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I
All wound with adders who with cloven tongues
Do hiss me into madness.
Enter TRINCULO
Lo, now, lo!
Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me
For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat;
Perchance he will not mind me.

Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off
any weather at all, and another storm brewing;
I hear it sing i' the wind: yond same black
cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul
bombard that would shed his liquor. If it
should thunder as it did before, I know not
where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot
choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we
here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish:
he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-
like smell; a kind of not of the newest Poor-
John. A strange fish! Were I in England now,
as once I was, and had but this fish painted,
not a holiday fool there but would give a piece
of silver: there would this monster make a
man; any strange beast there makes a man:
when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame
beggar, they will lazy out ten to see a dead
Indian. Legged like a man and his fins like
arms! Warm o' my troth! I do now let loose
my opinion; hold it no longer: this is no fish,
but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a
thunderbolt.
Thunder
Alas, the storm is come again! my best way is to
creep under his gaberdine; there is no other
****ter hereabouts: misery acquaints a man with
strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the
dregs of the storm be past.
Enter STEPHANO, singing: a bottle in his hand

I shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I die ashore--
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's
funeral: well, here's my comfort.
Drinks
Sings
The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I,
The gunner and his mate
Loved Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery,
But none of us cared for Kate;
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!
She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch,
Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch:
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang!
This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort.
Drinks

Do not torment me: Oh!

What's the matter? Have we devils here? Do you put
tricks upon's with savages and men of Ind, ha? I
have not scaped drowning to be afeard now of your
four legs; for it hath been said, As proper a man as
ever went on four legs cannot make him give ground;
and it shall be said so again while Stephano
breathes at's nostrils.

The spirit torments me; Oh!

This is some monster of the isle with four legs, who
hath got, as I take it, an ague. Where the devil
should he learn our ********? I will give him some
relief, if it be but for that. if I can recover him
and keep him tame and get to Naples with him, he's a
present for any emperor that ever trod on neat's leather.

Do not torment me, prithee; I'll bring my wood home faster.

He's in his fit now and does not talk after the
wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if he have
never drunk wine afore will go near to remove his
fit. If I can recover him and keep him tame, I will
not take too much for him; he shall pay for him that
hath him, and that soundly.

Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou wilt anon, I
know it by thy trembling: now Prosper works upon thee.

Come on your ways; open your mouth; here is that
which will give ******** to you, cat: open your
mouth; this will shake your shaking, I can tell you,
and that soundly: you cannot tell who's your friend:
open your chaps again.

I should know that voice: it should be--but he is
drowned; and these are devils: O defend me!

Four legs and two voices: a most delicate monster!
His forward voice now is to speak well of his
friend; his backward voice is to utter foul speeches
and to detract. If all the wine in my bottle will
recover him, I will help his ague. Come. Amen! I
will pour some in thy other mouth.

Stephano!

Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy, mercy! This is
a devil, and no monster: I will leave him; I have no
long spoon.

Stephano! If thou beest Stephano, touch me and
speak to me: for I am Trinculo--be not afeard--thy
good friend Trinculo.

If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I'll pull thee
by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's legs,
these are they. Thou art very Trinculo indeed! How
camest thou to be the siege of this moon-calf? can
he vent Trinculos?

I took him to be killed with a thunder-stroke. But
art thou not drowned, Stephano? I hope now thou art
not drowned. Is the storm overblown? I hid me
under the dead moon-calf's gaberdine for fear of
the storm. And art thou living, Stephano? O
Stephano, two Neapolitans 'scaped!

Prithee, do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.

[Aside] These be fine things, an if they be
not sprites.
That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor.
I will kneel to him.

How didst thou 'scape? How camest thou hither?
swear by this bottle how thou camest hither. I
escaped upon a butt of sack which the sailors
heaved o'erboard, by this bottle; which I made of
the bark of a tree with mine own hands since I was
cast ashore.

I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject;
for the liquor is not earthly.

Here; swear then how thou escapedst.

Swum ashore. man, like a duck: I can swim like a
duck, I'll be sworn.

Here, kiss the book. Though thou canst swim like a
duck, thou art made like a goose.

O Stephano. hast any more of this?

The whole butt, man: my cellar is in a rock by the
sea-side where my wine is hid. How now, moon-calf!
how does thine ague?

Hast thou not dropp'd from heaven?

Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man i'
the moon when time was.

I have seen thee in her and I do adore thee:
My mistress show'd me thee and thy dog and thy bush.

Come, swear to that; kiss the book: I will furnish
it anon with new *******s swear.

By this good light, this is a very shallow monster!
I afeard of him! A very weak monster! The man i'
the moon! A most poor credulous monster! Well
drawn, monster, in good sooth!

I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island;
And I will kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my god.

By this light, a most perfidious and drunken
monster! when 's god's asleep, he'll rob his bottle.

I'll kiss thy foot; I'll swear myself thy subject.

Come on then; down, and swear.

I shall laugh myself to death at this puppy-headed
monster. A most scurvy monster! I could find in my
heart to beat him,--

Come, kiss.

But that the poor monster's in drink: an abominable monster!

I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries;
I'll fish for thee and get thee wood enough.
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!
I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee,
Thou wondrous man.

A most ridiculous monster, to make a wonder of a
Poor drunkard!

I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow;
And I with my long nails will dig thee pignuts;
Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee
To clustering filberts and sometimes I'll get thee
Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?

I prithee now, lead the way without any more
talking. Trinculo, the king and all our company
else being drowned, we will inherit here: here;
bear my bottle: fellow Trinculo, we'll fill him by
and by again.

[Sings drunkenly]
Farewell master; farewell, farewell!

A howling monster: a drunken monster!

No more dams I'll make for fish
Nor fetch in firing
At requiring;
Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish
'Ban, 'Ban, Cacaliban
Has a new master: get a new man.
Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom,
hey-day, freedom!

O brave monster! Lead the way.
Exeunt

Enter FERDINAND, bearing a log

There be some sports are painful, and their labour
Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness
Are nobly undergone and most poor matters
Point to rich ends. This my mean task
Would be as heavy to me as odious, but
The mistress which I serve quickens what's dead
And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is
Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed,
And he's composed of harshness. I must remove
Some thousands of these logs and pile them up,
Upon a sore injunction: my sweet mistress
Weeps when she sees me work, and says, such baseness
Had never like executor. I forget:
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours,
Most busy lest, when I do it.
Enter MIRANDA; and PROSPERO at a distance, unseen

Alas, now, pray you,
Work not so hard: I would the lightning had
Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to pile!
Pray, set it down and rest you: when this burns,
'Twill weep for having wearied you. My father
Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself;
He's safe for these three hours.

O most dear mistress,
The sun will set before I shall discharge
What I must strive to do.

If you'll sit down,
I'll bear your logs the while: pray, give me that;
I'll carry it to the pile.

No, precious creature;
I had rather crack my sinews, break my back,
Than you should such dishonour undergo,
While I sit lazy by.

It would become me
As well as it does you: and I should do it
With much more ease; for my good will is to it,
And yours it is against.

Poor worm, thou art infected!
This visitation shows it.

You look wearily.

No, noble mistress;'tis fresh morning with me
When you are by at night. I do beseech you--
Chiefly that I might set it in my prayers--
What is your name?

Miranda.--O my father,
I have broke your hest to say so!

Admired Miranda!
Indeed the top of admiration! worth
What's dearest to the world! Full many a lady
I have eyed with best regard and many a time
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage
Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues
Have I liked several women; never any
With so fun soul, but some defect in her
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed
And put it to the foil: but you, O you,
So perfect and so peerless, are created
Of every creature's best!

I do not know
One of my sex; no woman's face remember,
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen
More that I may call men than you, good friend,
And my dear father: how features are abroad,
I am skilless of; but, by my modesty,
The jewel in my dower, I would not wish
Any companion in the world but you,
Nor can imagination form a shape,
Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle
Something too wildly and my father's precepts
I therein do forget.

I am in my condition
A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king;
I would, not so!--and would no more endure
This wooden slavery than to suffer
The flesh-fly blow my mouth. Hear my soul speak:
The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service; there resides,
To make me slave to it; and for your sake
Am I this patient log--man.

Do you love me?

O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound
And crown what I profess with kind event
If I speak true! if hollowly, invert
What best is boded me to mischief! I
Beyond all limit of what else i' the world
Do love, prize, honour you.

I am a fool
To weep at what I am glad of.

Fair encounter
Of two most rare affections! Heavens rain grace
On that which breeds between 'em!

Wherefore weep you?

At mine unworthiness that dare not offer
What I desire to give, and much less take
What I shall die to want. But this is trifling;
And all the more it seeks to hide itself,
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning!
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence!
I am your wife, it you will marry me;
If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow
You may deny me; but I'll be your servant,
Whether you will or no.

My mistress, dearest;
And I thus humble ever.

My husband, then?

Ay, with a heart as willing
As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand.

And mine, with my heart in't; and now farewell
Till half an hour hence.

A thousand thousand!
Exeunt FERDINAND and MIRANDA severally

So glad of this as they I cannot be,
Who are surprised withal; but my rejoicing
At nothing can be more. I'll to my book,
For yet ere supper-time must I perform
Much business appertaining.
Exit

Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO

Tell not me; when the butt is out, we will drink
water; not a drop before: therefore bear up, and
board 'em. Servant-monster, drink to me.

Servant-monster! the folly of this island! They
say there's but five upon this isle: we are three
of them; if th' other two be brained like us, the
state totters.

Drink, servant-monster, when I bid thee: thy eyes
are almost set in thy head.

Where should they be set else? he were a brave
monster indeed, if they were set in his tail.

My man-monster hath drown'd his tongue in sack:
for my part, the sea cannot drown me; I swam, ere I
could recover the shore, five and thirty leagues off
and on. By this light, thou shalt be my lieutenant,
monster, or my standard.

Your lieutenant, if you list; he's no standard.

We'll not run, Monsieur Monster.

Nor go neither; but you'll lie like dogs and yet say
nothing neither.

Moon-calf, speak once in thy life, if thou beest a
good moon-calf.

How does thy honour? Let me lick thy shoe.
I'll not serve him; he's not valiant.

Thou liest, most ignorant monster: I am in case to
justle a constable. Why, thou deboshed fish thou,
was there ever man a coward that hath drunk so much
sack as I to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie,
being but half a fish and half a monster?

Lo, how he mocks me! wilt thou let him, my lord?

'Lord' quoth he! That a monster should be such a natural!

Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, I prithee.

Trinculo, keep a good tongue in your head: if you
prove a mutineer,--the next tree! The poor monster's
my subject and he shall not suffer indignity.

I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be pleased to
hearken once again to the suit I made to thee?

Marry, will I kneel and repeat it; I will stand,
and so shall Trinculo.
Enter ARIEL, invisible

As I told thee before, I am subject to a tyrant, a
sorcerer, that by his cunning hath cheated me of the island.

Thou liest.

Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou: I would my
valiant master would destroy thee! I do not lie.

Trinculo, if you trouble him any more in's tale, by
this hand, I will supplant some of your teeth.

Why, I said nothing.

Mum, then, and no more. Proceed.

I say, by sorcery he got this isle;
From me he got it. if thy greatness will
Revenge it on him,--for I know thou darest,
But this thing dare not,--

That's most certain.

Thou shalt be lord of it and I'll serve thee.

How now shall this be compassed?
Canst thou bring me to the party?

Yea, yea, my lord: I'll yield him thee asleep,
Where thou mayst knock a nail into his bead.

Thou liest; thou canst not.

What a pied ninny's this! Thou scurvy patch!
I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows
And take his bottle from him: when that's gone
He shall drink nought but brine; for I'll not show him
Where the quick freshes are.

Trinculo, run into no further danger:
interrupt the monster one word further, and,
by this hand, I'll turn my mercy out o' doors
and make a stock-fish of thee.

Why, what did I? I did nothing. I'll go farther
off.

Didst thou not say he lied?

Thou liest.

Do I so? take thou that.
Beats TRINCULO
As you like this, give me the lie another time.

I did not give the lie. Out o' your
wits and bearing too? A pox o' your bottle!
this can sack and drinking do. A murrain on
your monster, and the devil take your fingers!

Ha, ha, ha!

Now, forward with your tale. Prithee, stand farther
off.

Beat him enough: after a little time
I'll beat him too.

Stand farther. Come, proceed.

Why, as I told thee, 'tis a custom with him,
I' th' afternoon to sleep: there thou mayst brain him,
Having first seized his books, or with a log
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake,
Or cut his wezand with thy knife. Remember
First to possess his books; for without them
He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
One spirit to command: they all do hate him
As rootedly as I. Burn but his books.
He has brave utensils,--for so he calls them--
Which when he has a house, he'll deck withal
And that most deeply to consider is
The beauty of his daughter; he himself
Calls her a nonpareil: I never saw a woman,
But only Sycorax my dam and she;
But she as far surpasseth Sycorax
As great'st does least.

Is it so brave a lass?

Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I warrant.
And bring thee forth brave brood.

Monster, I will kill this man: his daughter and I
will be king and queen--save our graces!--and
Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys. Dost thou
like the plot, Trinculo?

Excellent.

Give me thy hand: I am sorry I beat thee; but,
while thou livest, keep a good tongue in thy head.

Within this half hour will he be asleep:
Wilt thou destroy him then?

Ay, on mine honour.

This will I tell my master.

Thou makest me merry; I am full of pleasure:
Let us be jocund: will you troll the catch
You taught me but while-ere?

At thy request, monster, I will do reason, any
reason. Come on, Trinculo, let us sing.
Sings
Flout 'em and scout 'em
And scout 'em and flout 'em
Thought is free.

That's not the tune.
Ariel plays the tune on a tabour and pipe

What is this same?

This is the tune of our catch, played by the picture
of Nobody.

If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness:
if thou beest a devil, take't as thou list.

O, forgive me my sins!

He that dies pays all debts: I defy thee. Mercy upon us!

Art thou afeard?

No, monster, not I.

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again.

This will prove a brave kingdom to me, where I shall
have my music for nothing.

When Prospero is destroyed.

That shall be by and by: I remember the story.

The sound is going away; let's follow it, and
after do our work.

Lead, monster; we'll follow. I would I could see
this tabourer; he lays it on.

Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano.
Exeunt

Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others

By'r lakin, I can go no further, sir;
My old bones ache: here's a maze trod indeed
Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience,
I needs must rest me.

Old lord, I cannot blame thee,
Who am myself attach'd with weariness,
To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest.
Even here I will put off my hope and keep it
No longer for my flatterer: he is drown'd
Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks
Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.

[Aside to SEBASTIAN] I am right glad that he's so
out of hope.
Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose
That you resolved to effect.

[Aside to ANTONIO] The next advantage
Will we take throughly.

[Aside to SEBASTIAN] Let it be to-night;
For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they
Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance
As when they are fresh.

[Aside to ANTONIO] I say, to-night: no more.
Solemn and strange music

What harmony is this? My good friends, hark!

Marvellous sweet music!
Enter PROSPERO above, invisible. Enter several strange Shapes, bringing in a banquet; they dance about it with gentle actions of salutation; and, inviting the King, & c. to eat, they depart

Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?

A living drollery. Now I will believe
That there are unicorns, that in Arabia
There is one tree, the phoenix' throne, one phoenix
At this hour reigning there.

I'll believe both;
And what does else want credit, come to me,
And I'll be sworn 'tis true: travellers ne'er did
lie,
Though fools at home condemn 'em.

If in Naples
I should report this now, would they believe me?
If I should say, I saw such islanders--
For, certes, these are people of the island--
Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, note,
Their manners are more gentle-kind than of
Our human generation you shall find
Many, nay, almost any.

[Aside] Honest lord,
Thou hast said well; for some of you there present
Are worse than devils.

I cannot too much muse
Such shapes, such gesture and such sound, expressing,
Although they want the use of tongue, a kind
Of excellent dumb discourse.

[Aside] Praise in departing.

They vanish'd strangely.

No matter, since
They have left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.
Will't please you taste of what is here?

Not I.

Faith, sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,
Who would believe that there were mountaineers
Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em
Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men
Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find
Each putter-out of five for one will bring us
Good warrant of.

I will stand to and feed,
Although my last: no matter, since I feel
The best is past. Brother, my lord the duke,
Stand to and do as we.
Thunder and lightning. Enter ARIEL, like a harpy; claps his wings upon the table; and, with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes

You are three men of sin, whom Destiny,
That hath to instrument this lower world
And what is in't, the never-surfeited sea
Hath caused to belch up you; and on this island
Where man doth not inhabit; you 'mongst men
Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad;
And even with such-like valour men hang and drown
Their proper selves.
ALONSO, SEBASTIAN & c. draw their swords
You fools! I and my fellows
Are ministers of Fate: the elements,
Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well
Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at stabs
Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish
One dowle that's in my plume: my fellow-ministers
Are like invulnerable. If you could hurt,
Your swords are now too massy for your strengths
And will not be uplifted. But remember--
For that's my business to you--that you three
From Milan did supplant good Prospero;
Exposed unto the sea, which hath requit it,
Him and his innocent child: for which foul deed
The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have
Incensed the seas and shores, yea, all the creatures,
Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso,
They have bereft; and do pronounce by me:
Lingering perdition, worse than any death
Can be at once, shall step by step attend
You and your ways; whose wraths to guard you from--
Which here, in this most desolate isle, else falls
Upon your heads--is nothing but heart-sorrow
And a clear life ensuing.
He vanishes in thunder; then, to soft music enter the Shapes again, and dance, with mocks and mows, and carrying out the table

Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou
Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring:
Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated
In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life
And observation strange, my meaner ministers
Their several kinds have done. My high charms work
And these mine enemies are all knit up
In their distractions; they now are in my power;
And in these fits I leave them, while I visit
Young Ferdinand, whom they suppose is drown'd,
And his and mine loved darling.
Exit above

I' the name of something holy, sir, why stand you
In this strange stare?

O, it is monstrous, monstrous:
Methought the billows spoke and told me of it;
The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder,
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced
The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass.
Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded, and
I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sounded
And with him there lie mudded.
Exit

But one fiend at a time,
I'll fight their legions o'er.

I'll be thy second.
Exeunt SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO

All three of them are desperate: their great guilt,
Like poison given to work a great time after,
Now 'gins to bite the spirits. I do beseech you
That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly
And hinder them from what this ecstasy
May now provoke them to.

Follow, I pray you.
Exeunt

Enter PROSPERO, FERDINAND, and MIRANDA

If I have too austerely punish'd you,
Your compensation makes amends, for I
Have given you here a third of mine own life,
Or that for which I live; who once again
I tender to thy hand: all thy vexations
Were but my trials of thy love and thou
Hast strangely stood the test here, afore Heaven,
I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand,
Do not smile at me that I boast her off,
For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise
And make it halt behind her.

I do believe it
Against an oracle.

Then, as my gift and thine own acquisition
Worthily purchased take my daughter: but
If thou dost break her virgin-knot before
All sanctimonious ceremonies may
With full and holy rite be minister'd,
No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall
To make this contract grow: but barren hate,
Sour-eyed disdain and discord shall bestrew
The union of your bed with weeds so loathly
That you shall hate it both: therefore take heed,
As Hymen's lamps shall light you.

As I hope
For quiet days, fair issue and long life,
With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den,
The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion.
Our worser genius can, shall never melt
Mine honour into lust, to take away
The edge of that day's celebration
When I shall think: or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd,
Or Night kept chain'd below.

Fairly spoke.
Sit then and talk with her; she is thine own.
What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel!
Enter ARIEL

What would my potent master? here I am.

Thou and thy meaner fellows your last service
Did worthily perform; and I must use you
In such another trick. Go bring the rabble,
O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place:
Incite them to quick motion; for I must
Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple
Some vanity of mine art: it is my promise,
And they expect it from me.

Presently?

Ay, with a twink.

Before you can say 'come' and 'go,'
And breathe twice and cry 'so, so,'
Each one, tripping on his toe,
Will be here with mop and mow.
Do you love me, master? no?

Dearly my delicate Ariel. Do not approach
Till thou dost hear me call.

Well, I conceive.
Exit

Look thou be true; do not give dalliance
Too much the rein: the strongest oaths are straw
To the fire i' the blood: be more abstemious,
Or else, good night your vow!

I warrant you sir;
The white cold virgin snow upon my heart
Abates the ardour of my liver.

Well.
Now come, my Ariel! bring a corollary,
Rather than want a spirit: appear and pertly!
No tongue! all eyes! be silent.
Soft music
Enter IRIS

Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats and pease;
Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep;
Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims,
Which spongy April at thy hest betrims,
To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom -groves,
Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,
Being lass-lorn: thy pole-clipt vineyard;
And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard,
Where thou thyself dost air;--the queen o' the sky,
Whose watery arch and messenger am I,
Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace,
Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,
To come and sport: her peacocks fly amain:
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.
Enter CERES

Hail, many-colour'd messenger, that ne'er
Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter;
Who with thy saffron wings upon my flowers
Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers,
And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown
My bosky acres and my unshrubb'd down,
Rich scarf to my proud earth; why hath thy queen
Summon'd me hither, to this short-grass'd green?

A contract of true love to celebrate;
And some donation freely to estate
On the blest lovers.

Tell me, heavenly bow,
If Venus or her son, as thou dost know,
Do now attend the queen? Since they did plot
The means that dusky Dis my daughter got,
Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company
I have forsworn.

Of her society
Be not afraid: I met her deity
Cutting the clouds towards Paphos and her son
Dove-drawn with her. Here thought they to have done
Some wanton charm upon this man and maid,
Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paid
Till Hymen's torch be lighted: but vain;
Mars's hot minion is returned again;
Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows,
Swears he will shoot no more but play with sparrows
And be a boy right out.

High'st queen of state,
Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait.
Enter JUNO

How does my bounteous sister? Go with me
To bless this twain, that they may prosperous be
And honour'd in their issue.
They sing:

Honour, riches, marriage-blessing,
Long continuance, and increasing,
Hourly joys be still upon you!
Juno sings her blessings upon you.

Earth's increase, foison plenty,
Barns and garners never empty,
Vines and clustering bunches growing,
Plants with goodly burthen bowing;
Spring come to you at the farthest
In the very end of harvest!
Scarcity and want shall shun you;
Ceres' blessing so is on you.

This is a most majestic vision, and
Harmoniously charmingly. May I be bold
To think these spirits?

Spirits, which by mine art
I have from their confines call'd to enact
My present fancies.

Let me live here ever;
So rare a wonder'd father and a wife
Makes this place Paradise.
Juno and Ceres whisper, and send Iris on employment

Sweet, now, silence!
Juno and Ceres whisper seriously;
There's something else to do: hush, and be mute,
Or else our spell is marr'd.

You nymphs, call'd Naiads, of the windring brooks,
With your sedged crowns and ever-harmless looks,
Leave your crisp channels and on this green land
Answer your summons; Juno does command:
Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate
A contract of true love; be not too late.
Enter certain Nymphs
You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,
Come hither from the furrow and be merry:
Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put on
And these fresh nymphs encounter every one
In country footing.
Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they join with the Nymphs in a graceful dance; towards the end whereof PROSPERO starts suddenly, and speaks; after which, to a strange, hollow, and confused noise, they heavily vanish

[Aside] I had forgot that foul conspiracy
Of the beast Caliban and his confederates
Against my life: the minute of their plot
Is almost come.
To the Spirits
Well done! avoid; no more!

This is strange: your father's in some passion
That works him strongly.

Never till this day
Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd.

You do look, my son, in a moved sort,
As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd;
Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled:
Be not disturb'd with my infirmity:
If you be pleased, retire into my cell
And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk,
To still my beating mind.

We wish your peace.
Exeunt

Come with a thought I thank thee, Ariel: come.
Enter ARIEL

Thy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy pleasure?

Spirit,
We must prepare to meet with Caliban.

Ay, my commander: when I presented Ceres,
I thought to have told thee of it, but I fear'd
Lest I might anger thee.

Say again, where didst thou leave these varlets?

I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking;
So fun of valour that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces; beat the ground
For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
Towards their project. Then I beat my tabour;
At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd
their ears,
Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses
As they smelt music: so I charm'd their ears
That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through
Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns,
Which entered their frail shins: at last I left them
I' the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,
There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake
O'erstunk their feet.

This was well done, my bird.
Thy shape invisible retain thou still:
The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither,
For stale to catch these thieves.

I go, I go.
Exit

A devil, a born devil, on whose nature
Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains,
Humanely taken, all, all lost, quite lost;
And as with age his body uglier grows,
So his mind cankers. I will plague them all,
Even to roaring.
Re-enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, & c
Come, hang them on this line.
PROSPERO and ARIEL remain invisible. Enter CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, all wet

Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not
Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell.

Monster, your fairy, which you say is
a harmless fairy, has done little better than
played the Jack with us.

Monster, I do smell all horse-piss; at
which my nose is in great indignation.

So is mine. Do you hear, monster? If I should take
a displeasure against you, look you,--

Thou wert but a lost monster.

Good my lord, give me thy favour still.
Be patient, for the prize I'll bring thee to
Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore speak softly.
All's hush'd as midnight yet.

Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool,--

There is not only disgrace and dishonour in that,
monster, but an infinite loss.

That's more to me than my wetting: yet this is your
harmless fairy, monster.

I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o'er ears
for my labour.

Prithee, my king, be quiet. Seest thou here,
This is the mouth o' the cell: no noise, and enter.
Do that good mischief which may make this island
Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,
For aye thy foot-licker.

Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts.

O king Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano! look
what a wardrobe here is for thee!

Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.

O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery.
O king Stephano!

Put off that gown, Trinculo; by this hand, I'll have
that gown.

Thy grace shall have it.

The dropsy drown this fool I what do you mean
To dote thus on such luggage? Let's alone
And do the murder first: if he awake,
From toe to crown he'll fill our skins with pinches,
Make us strange stuff.

Be you quiet, monster. Mistress line,
is not this my jerkin? Now is the jerkin under
the line: now, jerkin, you are like to lose your
hair and prove a bald jerkin.

Do, do: we steal by line and level, an't like your grace.

I thank thee for that jest; here's a garment for't:
wit shall not go unrewarded while I am king of this
country. 'Steal by line and level' is an excellent
pass of pate; there's another garment for't.

Monster, come, put some lime upon your fingers, and
away with the rest.

I will have none on't: we shall lose our time,
And all be turn'd to barnacles, or to apes
With foreheads villanous low.

Monster, lay-to your fingers: help to bear this
away where my hogshead of wine is, or I'll turn you
out of my kingdom: go to, carry this.

And this.

Ay, and this.
A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers Spirits, in shape of dogs and hounds, and hunt them about, PROSPERO and ARIEL setting them on

Hey, Mountain, hey!

Silver I there it goes, Silver!

Fury, Fury! there, Tyrant, there! hark! hark!
CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and TRINCULO, are driven out
Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints
With dry convulsions, shorten up their sinews
With aged cramps, and more pinch-spotted make them
Than pard or cat o' mountain.

Hark, they roar!

Let them be hunted soundly. At this hour
Lie at my mercy all mine enemies:
Shortly shall all my labours end, and thou
Shalt have the air at freedom: for a little
Follow, and do me service.
Exeunt

Enter PROSPERO in his magic robes, and ARIEL

Now does my project gather to a head:
My charms crack not; my spirits obey; and time
Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day?

On the sixth hour; at which time, my lord,
You said our work should cease.

I did say so,
When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit,
How fares the king and's followers?

Confined together
In the same fashion as you gave in charge,
Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir,
In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell;
They cannot budge till your release. The king,
His brother and yours, abide all three distracted
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly
Him that you term'd, sir, 'The good old lord Gonzalo;'
His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops
From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works 'em
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.

Dost thou think so, spirit?

Mine would, sir, were I human.

And mine shall.
Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling
Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply,
Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art?
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,
Yet with my nobler reason 'gaitist my fury
Do I take part: the rarer action is
In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel:
My charms I'll break, their senses I'll restore,
And they shall be themselves.

I'll fetch them, sir.
Exit

Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves,
And ye that on the sands with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him
When he comes back; you demi-puppets that
By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid,
Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm'd
The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,
And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault
Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak
With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory
Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck'd up
The pine and cedar: graves at my command
Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forth
By my so potent art. But this rough magic
I here abjure, and, when I have required
Some heavenly music, which even now I do,
To work mine end upon their senses that
This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff,
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I'll drown my book.
Solemn music
Re-enter ARIEL before: then ALONSO, with a frantic gesture, attended by GONZALO; SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO in like manner, attended by ADRIAN and FRANCISCO they all enter the circle which PROSPERO had made, and there stand charmed; which PROSPERO observing, speaks:
A solemn air and the best comforter
To an unsettled fancy cure thy brains,
Now useless, boil'd within thy skull! There stand,
For you are spell-stopp'd.
Holy Gonzalo, honourable man,
Mine eyes, even sociable to the show of thine,
Fall fellowly drops. The charm dissolves apace,
And as the morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reason. O good Gonzalo,
My true preserver, and a loyal sir
To him you follow'st! I will pay thy graces
Home both in word and deed. Most cruelly
Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter:
Thy brother was a furtherer in the act.
Thou art pinch'd fort now, Sebastian. Flesh and blood,
You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition,
Expell'd remorse and nature; who, with Sebastian,
Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,
Would here have kill'd your king; I do forgive thee,
Unnatural though thou art. Their understanding
Begins to swell, and the approaching tide
Will shortly fill the reasonable shore
That now lies foul and muddy. Not one of them
That yet looks on me, or would know me Ariel,
Fetch me the hat and rapier in my cell:
I will discase me, and myself present
As I was sometime Milan: quickly, spirit;
Thou shalt ere long be free.
ARIEL sings and helps to attire him
Where the bee sucks. there suck I:
In a cowslip's bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

Why, that's my dainty Ariel! I shall miss thee:
But yet thou shalt have freedom: so, so, so.
To the king's ship, invisible as thou art:
There shalt thou find the mariners asleep
Under the hatches; the master and the boatswain
Being awake, enforce them to this place,
And presently, I prithee.

I drink the air before me, and return
Or ere your pulse twice beat.
Exit

All torment, trouble, wonder and amazement
Inhabits here: some heavenly power guide us
Out of this fearful country!

Behold, sir king,
The wronged Duke of Milan, Prospero:
For more assurance that a living prince
Does now speak to thee, I embrace thy body;
And to thee and thy company I bid
A hearty welcome.