Arts
ACT I. SCENE II. Padua. Before HORTENSIO'S houseEnter PETRUCHIO and his man GRUMIOPETRUCHIO. Verona, for a while I take my leave,To see my friends in Padua; but of allMy best beloved and approved friend,Hortensio; and I trow this is his house.Here, sirrah Grumio, knock, I say.GRUMIO. Knock, sir! Whom should I knock?Is there any man has rebus'd your worship?PETRUCHIO. Villain, I say, knock me here soundly.GRUMIO. Knock you here, sir? Why, sir, what am I, sir, that Ishould knock you here, sir?PETRUCHIO. Villain, I say, knock me at this gate,And rap me well, or I'll knock your knave's pate.GRUMIO. My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock you first,And then I know after who comes by the worst.PETRUCHIO. 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]GRUMIO. Help, masters, help! My master is mad.PETRUCHIO. Now knock when I bid you, sirrah villain!Enter HORTENSIOHORTENSIO. How now! what's the matter? My old friend Grumio and mygood friend Petruchio! How do you all at Verona?PETRUCHIO. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray?'Con tutto il cuore ben trovato' may I say.HORTENSIO. Alla nostra casa ben venuto,Molto honorato signor mio Petruchio.Rise, Grumio, rise; we will compound this quarrel.GRUMIO. Nay, 'tis no matter, sir, what he 'leges in Latin. If thisbe not a lawful cause for me to leave his service- look you, sir:he bid me knock him and rap him soundly, sir. Well, was it fitfor a servant to use his master so; being, perhaps, for aught Isee, 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.PETRUCHIO. A senseless villain! Good Hortensio,I bade the rascal knock upon your gate,And could not get him for my heart to do it.GRUMIO. Knock at the gate? O heavens! Spake you not these wordsplain: 'Sirrah knock me here, rap me here, knock me well, andknock me soundly'? And come you now with 'knocking at the gate'?PETRUCHIO. Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you.HORTENSIO. 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 galeBlows you to Padua here from old Verona?PETRUCHIO. Such wind as scatters young men through the worldTo 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 deceas'd,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.HORTENSIO. Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to theeAnd wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife?Thou'dst thank me but a little for my counsel,And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich,And very rich; but th'art too much my friend,And I'll not wish thee to her.PETRUCHIO. Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as weFew words suffice; and therefore, if thou knowOne 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 shrewdAs Socrates' Xanthippe or a worse-She moves me not, or not removes, at least,Affection's edge in me, were she as roughAs are the swelling Adriatic seas.I come to wive it wealthily in Padua;If wealthily, then happily in Padua.GRUMIO. Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what his mind is.Why, give him gold enough and marry him to a puppet or anaglet-baby, or an old trot with ne'er a tooth in her head, thoughshe has as many diseases as two and fifty horses. Why, nothingcomes amiss, so money comes withal.HORTENSIO. 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 wifeWith 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 measureThat, were my state far worser than it is,I would not wed her for a mine of gold.PETRUCHIO. 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 loudAs thunder when the clouds in autumn crack.HORTENSIO. Her father is Baptista Minola,An affable and courteous gentleman;Her name is Katherina Minola,Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue.