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,