Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

Автор книги: William Shakespeare

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 250 страниц)

2.1 Enter Katherina and Bianca, her hands bound

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 goods,

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.

KATHERINE

Of all thy suitors here I charge thee tell

Whom thou lov’st best. See thou dissemble not.

BIANCA

Believe me, sister, of all the men alive

I never yet beheld that special face

Which I could fancy more than any other.

KATHERINE

Minion, thou liest. Is’t not Hortensio?

BIANCA

If you affect him, sister, here I swear

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

KATHERINE

O then, belike you fancy riches more.

You will have Gremio to keep you fair.

BIANCA

Is it for him you do envy me so?

Nay, then, you jest, and now I well perceive

You have but jested with me all this while.

I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands.

KATHERINE (strikes her)

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

Enter Baptista

BAPTISTA

Why, how now, dame, whence grows this insolence?

Bianca, stand aside.—Poor girl, she weeps.—

Go ply thy needle, meddle not with her.

(To Katherine) For shame, thou hilding of a devilish

spirit,

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

When did she cross thee with a bitter word?

KATHERINE

Her silence flouts me, and I’ll be revenged.

She flies after Bianca

BAPTISTA

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

Exit Bianca

KATHERINE

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

She is your treasure, she must have a husband.

I must dance barefoot on her wedding day,

And for your love to her lead apes in hell.

Talk not to me. I will go sit and weep

Till I can find occasion of revenge.

Exit

BAPTISTA

Was ever gentleman thus grieved as I?

But who comes here?

Enter Gremio, Lucentio as a schoolmaster in the

habit of a mean man, Petruccio with Hortensio as a

musician, Tranio as Lucentio, with Biondello his

boy bearing a lute and books

GREMIO Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.

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

PETRUCCIO

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

Called Katherina, fair and virtuous?

BAPTISTA

I have a daughter, sir, called Katherina.

GREMIO

You are too blunt. Go to it orderly.

PETRUCCIO

You wrong me, Signor Gremio. Give me leave.

(To Baptista) I am a gentleman of Verona, sir,

That hearing of her beauty and her wit,

Her affability and bashful modesty,

Her wondrous qualities and mild behaviour,

Am bold to show myself a forward guest

Within your house to make mine eye the witness

Of that report which I so oft have heard,

And for an entrance to my entertainment

I do present you with a man of mine (presenting

Hortensio)

Cunning in music and the mathematics

To instruct her fully in those sciences,

Whereof I know she is not ignorant.

Accept of him, or else you do me wrong.

His name is Licio, born in Mantua.

BAPTISTA

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

But for my daughter, Katherine, this I know:

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

PETRUCCIO

I see you do not mean to part with her,

Or else you like not of my company.

BAPTISTA

Mistake me not, I speak but as I find.

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

PETRUCCIO

Petruccio is my name, Antonio’s son,

A man well known throughout all Italy.

BAPTISTA

I know him well. You are welcome for his sake.

GREMIO

Saving your tale, Petruccio, I pray

Let us that are poor petitioners speak too.

Baccare, you are marvellous forward.

PETRUCCIO

O pardon me, Signor Gremio, I would fain be doing.

GREMIO

I doubt it not, sir. But you will curse your wooing. (To Baptista) Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am sure of it. To express the like kindness, myself, that have been more kindly beholden 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 languages as the other in music and mathematics. His name is Cambio. Pray accept his service.

BAPTISTA A thousand thanks, Signor 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?

TRANIO

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.

BAPTISTA

Lucentio is your name—of whence, I pray?

TRANIO

Of Pisa, sir, son to Vincentio.

BAPTISTA

A mighty man of Pisa. By report

I know him well. You are very welcome, sir.

(To Hortensio) Take you the lute, (to Lucentio) 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]

(To Petruccio) 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.

PETRUCCIO

Signor 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 bettered rather than decreased.

Then tell me, if I get your daughter’s love,

What dowry shall I have with her to wife?

BAPTISTA

After my death the one half of my lands,

And in possession twenty thousand crowns.

PETRUCCIO

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.

BAPTISTA

Ay, when the special thing is well obtained—

That is her love, for that is all in all.

PETRUCCIO

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.

BAPTISTA

Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed.

But be thou armed for some unhappy words.

PETRUCCIO

Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds,

That shakes not though they blow perpetually.

Enter Hortensio with his head broke

BAPTISTA

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

HORTENSIO

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

BAPTISTA

What, will my daughter prove a good musician?

HORTENSIO

I think she’ll sooner prove a soldier.

Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.

BAPTISTA

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

HORTENSIO

Why no, for she hath broke the lute to me.

I did but tell her she mistook her frets,

And bowed 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.

PETRUCCIO

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!

BAPTISTA (to Hortensio)

Well, go with me, and be not so discomfited.

Proceed in practice with my younger daughter.

She’s apt to learn, and thankful for good turns.

Signor Petruccio, will you go with us,

Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you ?

PETRUCCIO

I pray you, do.

Exeunt all but Petruccio

I’ll 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 washed 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, Petruccio, speak.

Enter Katherina

Good morrow, Kate, for that’s your name, I hear.

KATHERINE

Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing.

They call me Katherine that do talk of me.

PETRUCCIO

You lie, in faith, for you are called 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 cates, 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.

KATHERINE

Moved? In good time. Let him that moved you hither

Re-move you hence. I knew you at the first

You were a movable.

PETRUCCIO

Why, what’s a movable?

KATHERINE

A joint-stool.

PETRUCCIO

Thou hast hit it. Come, sit on me.

KATHERINE

Asses are made to bear, and so are you.

PETRUCCIO

Women are made to bear, and so are you.

KATHERINE

No such jade as you, if me you mean.

PETRUCCIO

Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee,

For knowing thee to be but young and light.

KATHERINE

Too light for such a swain as you to catch,

And yet as heavy as my weight should be. 205

PETRUCCIO

Should be?—should buzz.

KATHERINE Well ta’en, and like a buzzard.

PETRUCCIO

O slow-winged turtle, shall a buzzard take thee?

KATHERINE

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

PETRUCCIO

Come, come, you wasp, i’faith you are too angry.

KATHERINE

If I be waspish, best beware my sting.

PETRUCCIO

My remedy is then to pluck it out.

KATHERINE

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

PETRUCCIO

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

KATHERINE In his tongue.

PETRUCCIO Whose tongue?

KATHERINE

Yours, if you talk of tales, and so farewell.

PETRUCCIO

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

KATHERINE That I’ll try.

She strikes him

PETRUCCIO

I swear I’ll cuff you if you strike again.

KATHERINE So may you lose your arms.

If you strike me you are no gentleman,

And if no gentleman, why then, no arms.

PETRUCCIO

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

KATHERINE What is your crest—a coxcomb?

PETRUCCIO

A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.

KATHERINE

No cock of mine. You crow too like a craven.

PETRUCCIO

Nay, come, Kate, come. You must not look so sour.

KATHERINE

It is my fashion when I see a crab.

PETRUCCIO

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

KATHERINE There is, there is.

PETRUCCIO Then show it me. 230

KATHERINE

Had I a glass I would.

PETRUCCIO

What, you mean my face?

KATHERINE

Well aimed, of such a young one.

PETRUCCIO

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

KATHERINE

Yet you are withered.

PETRUCCIO ‘Tis with cares.

KATHERINE

I care not.

PETRUCCIO

Nay, hear you, Kate. In sooth, you scape not so. 235

KATHERINE

I chafe you if I tarry. Let me go.

PETRUCCIO

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 art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous,

But slow in speech, yet sweet as springtime 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 sland’rous world ! Kate like the hazel twig

Is straight and slender, and as brown in hue

As hazelnuts, and sweeter than the kernels.

O let me see thee walk. Thou dost not halt.

KATHERINE

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

PETRUCCIO

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.

KATHERINE

Where did you study all this goodly speech?

PETRUCCIO

It is extempore, from my mother-wit.

KATHERINE

A witty mother, witless else her son.

PETRUCCIO

Am I not wise?

KATHERINE Yes, keep you warm.

PETRUCCIO

Marry, so I mean, sweet Katherine, 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,

Enter Baptista, Gremio, and Tranio as Lucentio

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 Katherine to my wife.

BAPTISTA Now, Signor Petruccio, how speed you with my daughter? 276

PETRUCCIO How but well, sir, how but well?

It were impossible I should speed amiss.

BAPTISTA

Why, how now, daughter Katherine—in your dumps?

KATHERINE

Call you me daughter? Now I promise you 280

You have showed a tender fatherly regard,

To wish me wed to one half-lunatic,

A madcap ruffian and a swearing Jack,

That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.

PETRUCCIO

Father, ‘tis thus: yourself and all the world 285

That talked of her have talked 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, 290

And Roman Lucrece for her chastity.

And to conclude, we have ’greed so well together

That upon Sunday is the wedding day.

KATHERINE

I’ll see thee hanged on Sunday first.

GREMIO Hark, Petruccio, she says she’ll see thee hanged first. 296

TRANIO

Is this your speeding ? Nay then, goodnight our part.

PETRUCCIO

Be patient, gentlemen. I choose her for myself.

If she and I be pleased, what’s that to you?

Tis bargained ‘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 I

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 Katherine shall be fine.

BAPTISTA

I know not what to say, but give me your hands.

God send you joy, Petruccio! ’Tis a match.

GREMIO and TRANIO

Amen, say we. We will be witnesses.

PETRUCCIO

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 Petruccio and Katherine, severally

GREMIO

Was ever match clapped up so suddenly?

BAPTISTA

Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant’s part,

And venture madly on a desperate mart.

TRANIO

‘Twas a commodity lay fretting by you.

’Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.

BAPTISTA

The gain I seek is quiet in the match.

GREMIO

No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch.

But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter.

Now is the day we long have looked for.

I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.

TRANIO

And I am one that love Bianca more

Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.

GREMIO

Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I.

TRANIO

Greybeard, thy love doth freeze.

GREMIO But thine doth fry.

Skipper, stand back. ’Tis age that nourisheth.

TRANIO

But youth in ladies’ eyes that flourisheth.

BAPTISTA A

Content 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, Signor Gremio, what can you assure her?

GREMIO

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 stuffed my crowns,

In cypress chests my arras counterpoints,

Costly apparel, tents and canopies,

Fine linen, Turkey cushions bossed with pearl,

Valance of Venice gold in needlework, 350

Pewter, and brass, and all things that belongs

To house or housekeeping. Then at my farm

I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,

Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls,

And all things answerable to this portion. 355

Myself am struck in years, I must confess,

And if I die tomorrow this is hers,

If whilst I live she will be only mine.

TRANIO

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 Signor Gremio has in Padua,

Besides two thousand ducats by the year

Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure.

What, have I pinched you, Signor Gremio?

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?

TRANIO

Gremio, ‘tis known my father hath no less

Than three great argosies, besides two galliasses

And twelve tight galleys. These I will assure her,

And twice as much whate’er thou off’rest next.

GREMIO

Nay, I have offered 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.

TRANIO

Why then, the maid is mine from all the world.

By your firm promise Gremio is out-vied.

BAPTISTA

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?

TRANIO

That’s but a cavil. He is old, I young.

GREMIO

And may not young men die as well as old ?

BAPTISTA Well, gentlemen,

I am thus resolved. On Sunday next, you know,

My daughter Katherine is to be married.

(To Tranio) Now, on the Sunday following shall

Bianca

Be bride to you, if you make this assurance;

If not, to Signor Gremio.

And so I take my leave, and thank you both.

GREMIO

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 ! I

An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy.

Exit

TRANIO

A vengeance on your crafty withered 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 called 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

3.1 Enter Lucentio with books, as Cambio, Hortensio with a lute, as Licio, and Bianca

LUCENTIO

Fiddler, forbear. You grow too forward, sir.

Have you so soon forgot the entertainment

Her sister Katherine welcomed you withal?

HORTENSIO

But, wrangling pedant, this Bianca 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.

LUCENTIO

Preposterous ass, that never read so far

To know the cause why music was ordained!

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.

HORTENSIO

Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.

BIANCA

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.

(To Hortensio) Take you your instrument, play you the

whiles.

His lecture will be done ere you have tuned.

HORTENSIO

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

LUCENTIO

That will be never. Tune your instrument.

Hortensio tunes his lute. Lucentio opens a book

BIANCA Where left we last?

LUCENTIO Here, madam.

(Reads) ‘Hie ibat Simois, hie est Sigeia tellus, Hie steterat Priami regia celsa senis.’

BIANCA Construe them.

LUCENTIO ‘Hie 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.

HORTENSIO Madam, my instrument’s in tune.

BIANCA Let’s hear. (Hortensio plays) O fie, the treble jars.

LUCENTIO Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.

Hortensio tunes his lute again

BIANCA 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.

HORTENSIO

Madam, ’tis now in tune.

LUCENTIO All but the bass.

HORTENSIO

The bass 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.

BIANCA (to Lucentio)

In time I may believe; yet, I mistrust.

LUCENTIO

Mistrust it not, for sure Aeacides

Was Ajax, called so from his grandfather.

BIANCA

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 master, take it not unkindly, pray,

That I have been thus pleasant with you both.

HORTENSIO (to Lucentio)

You may go walk and give me leave awhile.

My lessons make no music in three parts.

LUCENTIO

Are you so formal, sir? Well, I must wait.

(Aside) And watch withal, for but I be deceived

Our fine musician groweth amorous.

HORTENSIO

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.

He gives a paper

BIANCA

Why, I am past my gamut long ago.

HORTENSIO

Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.

BIANCA (reads)

‘Gam-ut 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—so), 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 odd inventions.

Enter a Messenger

MESSENGER

Mistress, your father prays you leave your books

And help to dress your sister’s chamber up.

You know tomorrow is the wedding day.

BIANCA

Farewell, sweet masters both. I must be gone.

LUCENTIO

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

Exeunt Bianca, Messenger, and Lucentio

HORTENSIO

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 wand’ring eyes on every stale,

Seize thee that list. If once I find thee ranging,

Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing.

Exit