Array MyBooks Classics - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare - Illustrated edition (37 plays, 160 sonnets and 5 Poetry Books With Active Table of Contents)

That down fell priest and book, and book and priest.

“Now take them up,” quoth he, “if any list.”

Tra.

What said the wench when he rose again?

Gre.

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 plays.

Enter Petruchio, Kate, Bianca, Hortensio [as Litio], Baptista, [Grumio, and Train].

Pet.

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.

Bap.

Is’t possible you will away to-night?

Pet.

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.

Tra.

Let us entreat you stay till after dinner.

Pet.

It may not be.

Gre.

Let me entreat you.

Pet.

It cannot be.

Kath.

Let me entreat you.

Pet.

I am content.

Kath.

Are you content to stay?

Pet.

I am content you shall entreat me stay,

But yet not stay, entreat me how you can.

Kath.

Now if you love me stay.

Pet.

Grumio, my horse.

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

Kath.

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.

Pet.

O Kate, content thee, prithee be not angry.

Kath.

I will be angry; what hast thou to do?

Father, be quiet, he shall stay my leisure.

Gre.

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

Kath.

Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner.

I see a woman may be made a fool,

If she had not a spirit to resist.

Pet.

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, Katherina, [and Grumio].

Bap.

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

Gre.

Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing.

Tra.

Of all mad matches never was the like.

Luc.

Mistress, what’s your opinion of your sister?

Bian.

That being mad herself, she’s madly mated.

Gre.

I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated.

Bap.

Neighbors 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.

Tra.

Shall sweet Bianca practice how to bride it?

Bap.

She shall, Lucentio. Come, gentlemen, let’s go.

Exeunt.

¶

Francis Wheatley , p. — John Peter Simon , e.

Enter Grumio.

Gru. Fie, fie on all tir’d jades, on all mad masters, and all foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? Was ever man so ray’d? 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.

Curt. Who is that calls so coldly?

Gru. 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.

Curt. Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio?

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

Curt. Is she so hot a shrew as she’s reported?

Gru. She was, good Curtis, before this frost; but thou know’st winter tames man, woman, and beast; for it hath tam’d my old master and my new mistress and myself, fellow Curtis.

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

Gru. 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?

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

Gru. 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.

Curt. There’s fire ready, and therefore, good Grumio, the news.

Gru. Why, “Jack, boy! ho, boy!” and as much news as wilt thou.

Curt. Come, you are so full of cony-catching!

Gru. Why, therefore fire, for I have caught extreme cold. Where’s the cook? Is supper ready, the house trimm’d, rushes strew’d, cobwebs swept, the servingmen in their new fustian, [their] white stockings, and every officer his wedding garment on? Be the Jacks fair within, the Gills fair without, the carpets laid, and every thing in order?

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

Gru. First, know my horse is tir’d, my master and mistress fall’n out.