Kitabı oku: «The Taming of the Shrew», sayfa 2

 
    Here comes the rogue. Sirrah, where have you been?
  BIONDELLO. Where have I been! Nay, how now! where are you?
    Master, has my fellow Tranio stol'n your clothes?
    Or you stol'n his? or both? Pray, what's the news?
  LUCENTIO. Sirrah, come hither; 'tis no time to jest,
    And therefore frame your manners to the time.
    Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life,
    Puts my apparel and my count'nance on,
    And I for my escape have put on his;
    For in a quarrel since I came ashore
    I kill'd a man, and fear I was descried.
    Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes,
    While I make way from hence to save my life.
    You understand me?
  BIONDELLO. I, sir? Ne'er a whit.
  LUCENTIO. And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth:
    Tranio is chang'd into Lucentio.
  BIONDELLO. The better for him; would I were so too!
  TRANIO. So could I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after,
    That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngest daughter.
    But, sirrah, not for my sake but your master's, I advise
    You use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies.
    When I am alone, why, then I am Tranio;
    But in all places else your master Lucentio.
  LUCENTIO. Tranio, let's go.
    One thing more rests, that thyself execute-
    To make one among these wooers. If thou ask me why-
    Sufficeth, my reasons are both good and weighty. Exeunt
 

The Presenters above speak

 
  FIRST SERVANT. My lord, you nod; you do not mind the play.
  SLY. Yes, by Saint Anne do I. A good matter, surely; comes
there
    any more of it?
  PAGE. My lord, 'tis but begun.
  SLY. 'Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady
    Would 'twere done! [They sit and mark]
 

SCENE II. Padua. Before HORTENSIO'S house

Enter PETRUCHIO and his man GRUMIO

 
  PETRUCHIO. 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.
 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 I
    should 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 HORTENSIO

 
  HORTENSIO. How now! what's the matter? My old friend Grumio and
my
    good 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
this
    be 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
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.
  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 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'?
  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 gale
    Blows you to Padua here from old Verona?
  PETRUCHIO. 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 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 thee
    And 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 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.
  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 an
    aglet-baby, or an old trot with ne'er a tooth in her head,
though
    she has as many diseases as two and fifty horses. Why,
nothing
    comes 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 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.
  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 loud
    As 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.
  PETRUCHIO. 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.
  GRUMIO. I pray you, sir, let him go while the humour lasts. O'
my
    word, and 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; and 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.
  HORTENSIO. 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 Bianca;
    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 rehears'd-
    That ever Katherina will be woo'd.
    Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en,
    That none shall have access unto Bianca
    Till Katherine the curst have got a husband.
  GRUMIO. Katherine the curst!
    A title for a maid of all titles the worst.
  HORTENSIO. Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace,
    And offer me disguis'd 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.
 

Enter GREMIO with LUCENTIO disguised as CAMBIO

 
  GRUMIO. Here's no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks, how
the
    young folks lay their heads together! Master, master, look
about
    you. Who goes there, ha?
  HORTENSIO. Peace, Grumio! It is the rival of my love.
Petruchio,
    stand by awhile.
  GRUMIO. A proper stripling, and an amorous!
                                              [They stand aside]
  GREMIO. O, very well; I have perus'd 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 perfum'd;
    For she is sweeter than perfume itself
    To whom they go to. What will you read to her?
  LUCENTIO. Whate'er I read to her, I'll plead for you
    As for my patron, stand you so assur'd,
    As firmly as yourself were still in place;
    Yea, and perhaps with more successful words
    Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir.
  GREMIO. O this learning, what a thing it is!
  GRUMIO. O this woodcock, what an ass it is!
  PETRUCHIO. Peace, sirrah!
  HORTENSIO. Grumio, mum! [Coming forward]
    God save you, Signior Gremio!
  GREMIO. And you are well met, Signior Hortensio.
    Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola.
    I promis'd to enquire carefully
    About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca;
    And by good fortune I have lighted well
    On this young man; for learning and behaviour
    Fit for her turn, well read in poetry
    And other books- good ones, I warrant ye.
  HORTENSIO. 'Tis well; and I have met a gentleman
    Hath promis'd 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.
  GREMIO. Beloved of me- and that my deeds shall prove.
  GRUMIO. And that his bags shall prove.
  HORTENSIO. 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 Katherine;
    Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please.
  GREMIO. So said, so done, is well.
    Hortensio, have you told him all her faults?
  PETRUCHIO. I know she is an irksome brawling scold;
    If that be all, masters, I hear no harm.
  GREMIO. No, say'st me so, friend? What countryman?
  PETRUCHIO. 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.
  GREMIO. O Sir, such a life with such a wife were strange!
    But if you have a stomach, to't a God's name;
    You shall have me assisting you in all.
    But will you woo this wild-cat?
  PETRUCHIO. Will I live?
  GRUMIO. Will he woo her? Ay, or I'll hang her.
  PETRUCHIO. 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 fariner's fire?
    Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs.
  GRUMIO. For he fears none.
  GREMIO. Hortensio, hark:
    This gentleman is happily arriv'd,
    My mind presumes, for his own good and ours.
  HORTENSIO. I promis'd we would be contributors
    And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe'er.
  GREMIO. And so we will- provided that he win her.
  GRUMIO. I would I were as sure of a good dinner.
 

Enter TRANIO, bravely apparelled as LUCENTIO, and BIONDELLO

 
  TRANIO. 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?
  BIONDELLO. He that has the two fair daughters; is't he you
mean?
  TRANIO. Even he, Biondello.
  GREMIO. Hark you, sir, you mean not her to-
  TRANIO. Perhaps him and her, sir; what have you to do?
  PETRUCHIO. Not her that chides, sir, at any hand, I pray.
  TRANIO. I love no chiders, sir. Biondello, let's away.
  LUCENTIO. [Aside] Well begun, Tranio.
  HORTENSIO. Sir, a word ere you go.
    Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no?
  TRANIO. And if I be, sir, is it any offence?
  GREMIO. No; if without more words you will get you hence.
  TRANIO. Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free
    For me as for you?
  GREMIO. But so is not she.
 
 
  TRANIO. For what reason, I beseech you?
  GREMIO. For this reason, if you'll know,
    That she's the choice love of Signior Gremio.
  HORTENSIO. That she's the chosen of Signior Hortensio.
  TRANIO. 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.
  GREMIO. What, this gentleman will out-talk us all!
  LUCENTIO. Sir, give him head; I know he'll prove a jade.
  PETRUCHIO. Hortensio, to what end are all these words?
  HORTENSIO. Sir, let me be so bold as ask you,
    Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter?
  TRANIO. 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.
  PETRUCHIO. Sir, sir, the first's for me; let her go by.
  GREMIO. Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules,
    And let it be more than Alcides' twelve.
  PETRUCHIO. Sir, understand you this of me, in sooth:
    The youngest 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.
  TRANIO. 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.
  HORTENSIO. 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.
  TRANIO. 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.
  GRUMIO, BIONDELLO. O excellent motion! Fellows, let's be gone.
  HORTENSIO. The motion's good indeed, and be it so.
    Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto. Exeunt
 

ACT II. SCENE I. Padua. BAPTISTA'S house

Enter KATHERINA and BIANCA

 
  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.
  KATHERINA. 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.
  KATHERINA. 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.
  KATHERINA. 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.
  KATHERINA. [Strikes her] If that be jest, then an the rest was
so.
 

Enter BAPTISTA

 
  BAPTISTA. Why, how now, dame! Whence grows this insolence?
    Bianca, stand aside- poor girl! she weeps.
                                                [He unbinds her]
    Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her.
    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?
  KATHERINA. Her silence flouts me, and I'll be reveng'd.
                                            [Flies after BIANCA]
  BAPTISTA. What, in my sight? Bianca, get thee in.
                                                     Exit BIANCA
  KATHERINA. 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 KATHERINA
  BAPTISTA. Was ever gentleman thus griev'd as I?
    But who comes here?
 

Enter GREMIO, with LUCENTIO in the habit of a mean man;

PETRUCHIO, with HORTENSIO as a musician; and TRANIO,

as LUCENTIO, with his boy, BIONDELLO, bearing a lute and

 
books
  GREMIO. Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.
  BAPTISTA. Good morrow, neighbour Gremio.
    God save you, gentlemen!
  PETRUCHIO. And you, good sir! Pray, have you not a daughter
    Call'd Katherina, fair and virtuous?
  BAPTISTA. I have a daughter, sir, call'd Katherina.
  GREMIO. You are too blunt; go to it orderly.
  PETRUCHIO. 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 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. Y'are 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.
  PETRUCHIO. 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?
  PETRUCHIO. Petruchio 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, Petruchio, I pray,
    Let us that are poor petitioners speak too.
    Bacare! you are marvellous forward.
  PETRUCHIO. O, pardon me, Signior Gremio! I would fain be doing.
  GREMIO. 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 languages, as
the
    other in music and mathematics. His name is Cambio. Pray
accept
    his service.
  BAPTISTA. 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?
  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.
    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 leading HORTENSIO carrying the lute and LUCENTIO with the books

 
    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.
  PETRUCHIO. 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 bettered rather than decreas'd.
    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.
  PETRUCHIO. 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 specialities be therefore drawn between us,
    That covenants may be kept on either hand.
  BAPTISTA. Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd,
    That is, her love; for that is all in all.
  PETRUCHIO. 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 arm'd for some unhappy words.
  PETRUCHIO. Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds,
    That shake not though they blow perpetually.
 

Re-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 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 she had studied to misuse me so.
  PETRUCHIO. 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. 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.
    Signior Petruchio, will you go with us,
    Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you?
  PETRUCHIO. I pray you do. Exeunt all but PETRUCHIO
    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 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 KATHERINA