sarnab/Shakespeare_Corpus · Datasets at Hugging Face

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TRANIO: And here I take the unfeigned oath, Never to marry with her though she would entreat: Fie on her! see, how beastly she doth court him!
HORTENSIO: Would all the world but he had quite forsworn! For me, that I may surely keep mine oath, I will be married to a wealthy widow, Ere three days pass, which hath as long loved me As I have loved this proud disdainful haggard. And so farewell, Signior Lucentio. Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love: and so I take my leave, In resolution as I swore before.
TRANIO: Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case! Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love, And have forsworn you with Hortensio.
BIANCA: Tranio, you jest: but have you both forsworn me?
TRANIO: Mistress, we have.
LUCENTIO: Then we are rid of Licio.
TRANIO: I' faith, he'll have a lusty widow now, That shall be wood and wedded in a day.
BIANCA: God give him joy!
TRANIO: Ay, and he'll tame her.
BIANCA: He says so, Tranio.
TRANIO: Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school.
BIANCA: The taming-school! what, is there such a place?
TRANIO: Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master; That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long, To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue.
BIONDELLO: O master, master, I have watch'd so long That I am dog-weary: but at last I spied An ancient angel coming down the hill, Will serve the turn.
TRANIO: What is he, Biondello?
BIONDELLO: Master, a mercatante, or a pedant, I know not what; but format in apparel, In gait and countenance surely like a father.
LUCENTIO: And what of him, Tranio?
TRANIO: If he be credulous and trust my tale, I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio, And give assurance to Baptista Minola, As if he were the right Vincentio Take in your love, and then let me alone.
Pedant: God save you, sir!
TRANIO: And you, sir! you are welcome. Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest?
Pedant: Sir, at the farthest for a week or two: But then up farther, and as for as Rome; And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life.
TRANIO: What countryman, I pray?
Pedant: Of Mantua.
TRANIO: Of Mantua, sir? marry, God forbid! And come to Padua, careless of your life?
Pedant: My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard.
TRANIO: 'Tis death for any one in Mantua To come to Padua. Know you not the cause? Your ships are stay'd at Venice, and the duke, For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him, Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly: 'Tis, marvel, but that you are but newly come, You might have heard it else proclaim'd about.
Pedant: Alas! sir, it is worse for me than so; For I have bills for money by exchange From Florence and must here deliver them.
TRANIO: Well, sir, to do you courtesy, This will I do, and this I will advise you: First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa?
Pedant: Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been, Pisa renowned for grave citizens.
TRANIO: Among them know you one Vincentio?
Pedant: I know him not, but I have heard of him; A merchant of incomparable wealth.
TRANIO: He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say, In countenance somewhat doth resemble you.
BIONDELLO:
TRANIO: To save your life in this extremity, This favour will I do you for his sake; And think it not the worst of an your fortunes That you are like to Sir Vincentio. His name and credit shall you undertake, And in my house you shall be friendly lodged: Look that you take upon you as you should; You understand me, sir: so shall you stay Till you have done your business in the city: If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it.
Pedant: O sir, I do; and will repute you ever The patron of my life and liberty.
TRANIO: Then go with me to make the matter good. This, by the way, I let you understand; my father is here look'd for every day, To pass assurance of a dower in marriage 'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here: In all these circumstances I'll instruct you: Go with me to clothe you as becomes you.
GRUMIO: No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my life.
KATHARINA: The more my wrong, the more his spite appears: What, did he marry me to famish me? Beggars, that come unto my father's door, Upon entreaty have a present aims; If not, elsewhere they meet with charity: But I, who never knew how to entreat, Nor never needed that I should entreat, Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep, With oath kept waking and with brawling fed: And that which spites me more than all these wants, He does it under name of perfect love; As who should say, if I should sleep or eat, 'Twere deadly sickness or else present death. I prithee go and get me some repast; I care not what, so it be wholesome food.
GRUMIO: What say you to a neat's foot?
KATHARINA: 'Tis passing good: I prithee let me have it.
GRUMIO: I fear it is too choleric a meat. How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd?
KATHARINA: I like it well: good Grumio, fetch it me.
GRUMIO: I cannot tell; I fear 'tis choleric. What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
KATHARINA: A dish that I do love to feed upon.
GRUMIO: Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.
KATHARINA: Why then, the beef, and let the mustard rest.
GRUMIO: Nay then, I will not: you shall have the mustard, Or else you get no beef of Grumio.
KATHARINA: Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.
GRUMIO: Why then, the mustard without the beef.
KATHARINA: Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, That feed'st me with the very name of meat: Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you, That triumph thus upon my misery! Go, get thee gone, I say.
PETRUCHIO: How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort?
HORTENSIO: Mistress, what cheer?
KATHARINA: Faith, as cold as can be.
PETRUCHIO: Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully upon me. Here love; thou see'st how diligent I am To dress thy meat myself and bring it thee: I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. What, not a word? Nay, then thou lovest it not; And all my pains is sorted to no proof. Here, take away this dish.
KATHARINA: I pray you, let it stand.
PETRUCHIO: The poorest service is repaid with thanks; And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.
KATHARINA: I thank you, sir.
HORTENSIO: Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame. Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.
PETRUCHIO:
Haberdasher: Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.
PETRUCHIO: Why, this was moulded on a porringer; A velvet dish: fie, fie! 'tis lewd and filthy: Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell, A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap: Away with it! come, let me have a bigger.
KATHARINA: I'll have no bigger: this doth fit the time, And gentlewomen wear such caps as these
PETRUCHIO: When you are gentle, you shall have one too, And not till then.
HORTENSIO:
KATHARINA: Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak; And speak I will; I am no child, no babe: Your betters have endured me say my mind, And if you cannot, best you stop your ears. My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, Or else my heart concealing it will break, And rather than it shall, I will be free Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.
PETRUCHIO: Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap, A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie: I love thee well, in that thou likest it not.
KATHARINA: Love me or love me not, I like the cap; And it I will have, or I will have none.
PETRUCHIO: Thy gown? why, ay: come, tailor, let us see't. O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here? What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon: What, up and down, carved like an apple-tart? Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash, Like to a censer in a barber's shop: Why, what, i' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?
HORTENSIO:
Tailor: You bid me make it orderly and well, According to the fashion and the time.
PETRUCHIO: Marry, and did; but if you be remember'd, I did not bid you mar it to the time. Go, hop me over every kennel home, For you shall hop without my custom, sir: I'll none of it: hence! make your best of it.
KATHARINA: I never saw a better-fashion'd gown, More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable: Belike you mean to make a puppet of me.
PETRUCHIO: Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee.
Tailor: She says your worship means to make a puppet of her.
PETRUCHIO: O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread, thou thimble, Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail! Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou! Braved in mine own house with a skein of thread? Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant; Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou livest! I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.
Tailor: Your worship is deceived; the gown is made Just as my master had direction: Grumio gave order how it should be done.
GRUMIO: I gave him no order; I gave him the stuff.
Tailor: But how did you desire it should be made?
GRUMIO: Marry, sir, with needle and thread.
Tailor: But did you not request to have it cut?
GRUMIO: Thou hast faced many things.
Tailor: I have.
GRUMIO: Face not me: thou hast braved many men; brave not me; I will neither be faced nor braved. I say unto thee, I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces: ergo, thou liest.
Tailor: Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify
PETRUCHIO: Read it.
GRUMIO: The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so.
Tailor:
GRUMIO: Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom of brown thread: I said a gown.
PETRUCHIO: Proceed.
Tailor:
GRUMIO: I confess the cape.
Tailor:
GRUMIO: I confess two sleeves.
Tailor:
PETRUCHIO: Ay, there's the villany.
GRUMIO: Error i' the bill, sir; error i' the bill. I commanded the sleeves should be cut out and sewed up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble.
Tailor: This is true that I say: an I had thee in place where, thou shouldst know it.
GRUMIO: I am for thee straight: take thou the bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me.
HORTENSIO: God-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall have no odds.
PETRUCHIO: Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me.

TRANIO: And here I take the unfeigned oath, Never to marry with her though she would entreat: Fie on her! see, how beastly she doth court him!

HORTENSIO: Would all the world but he had quite forsworn! For me, that I may surely keep mine oath, I will be married to a wealthy widow, Ere three days pass, which hath as long loved me As I have loved this proud disdainful haggard. And so farewell, Signior Lucentio. Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love: and so I take my leave, In resolution as I swore before.

TRANIO: Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case! Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love, And have forsworn you with Hortensio.

BIANCA: Tranio, you jest: but have you both forsworn me?

TRANIO: Mistress, we have.

LUCENTIO: Then we are rid of Licio.

TRANIO: I' faith, he'll have a lusty widow now, That shall be wood and wedded in a day.

BIANCA: God give him joy!

TRANIO: Ay, and he'll tame her.

BIANCA: He says so, Tranio.

TRANIO: Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school.

BIANCA: The taming-school! what, is there such a place?

TRANIO: Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master; That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long, To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue.

BIONDELLO: O master, master, I have watch'd so long That I am dog-weary: but at last I spied An ancient angel coming down the hill, Will serve the turn.

TRANIO: What is he, Biondello?

BIONDELLO: Master, a mercatante, or a pedant, I know not what; but format in apparel, In gait and countenance surely like a father.

LUCENTIO: And what of him, Tranio?

TRANIO: If he be credulous and trust my tale, I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio, And give assurance to Baptista Minola, As if he were the right Vincentio Take in your love, and then let me alone.

Pedant: God save you, sir!

TRANIO: And you, sir! you are welcome. Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest?

Pedant: Sir, at the farthest for a week or two: But then up farther, and as for as Rome; And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life.

TRANIO: What countryman, I pray?

Pedant: Of Mantua.

TRANIO: Of Mantua, sir? marry, God forbid! And come to Padua, careless of your life?

Pedant: My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard.

TRANIO: 'Tis death for any one in Mantua To come to Padua. Know you not the cause? Your ships are stay'd at Venice, and the duke, For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him, Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly: 'Tis, marvel, but that you are but newly come, You might have heard it else proclaim'd about.

Pedant: Alas! sir, it is worse for me than so; For I have bills for money by exchange From Florence and must here deliver them.

TRANIO: Well, sir, to do you courtesy, This will I do, and this I will advise you: First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa?

Pedant: Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been, Pisa renowned for grave citizens.

TRANIO: Among them know you one Vincentio?

Pedant: I know him not, but I have heard of him; A merchant of incomparable wealth.

TRANIO: He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say, In countenance somewhat doth resemble you.

BIONDELLO:

TRANIO: To save your life in this extremity, This favour will I do you for his sake; And think it not the worst of an your fortunes That you are like to Sir Vincentio. His name and credit shall you undertake, And in my house you shall be friendly lodged: Look that you take upon you as you should; You understand me, sir: so shall you stay Till you have done your business in the city: If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it.

Pedant: O sir, I do; and will repute you ever The patron of my life and liberty.

TRANIO: Then go with me to make the matter good. This, by the way, I let you understand; my father is here look'd for every day, To pass assurance of a dower in marriage 'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here: In all these circumstances I'll instruct you: Go with me to clothe you as becomes you.

GRUMIO: No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my life.

KATHARINA: The more my wrong, the more his spite appears: What, did he marry me to famish me? Beggars, that come unto my father's door, Upon entreaty have a present aims; If not, elsewhere they meet with charity: But I, who never knew how to entreat, Nor never needed that I should entreat, Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep, With oath kept waking and with brawling fed: And that which spites me more than all these wants, He does it under name of perfect love; As who should say, if I should sleep or eat, 'Twere deadly sickness or else present death. I prithee go and get me some repast; I care not what, so it be wholesome food.

GRUMIO: What say you to a neat's foot?

KATHARINA: 'Tis passing good: I prithee let me have it.

GRUMIO: I fear it is too choleric a meat. How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd?

KATHARINA: I like it well: good Grumio, fetch it me.

GRUMIO: I cannot tell; I fear 'tis choleric. What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?

KATHARINA: A dish that I do love to feed upon.

GRUMIO: Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.

KATHARINA: Why then, the beef, and let the mustard rest.

GRUMIO: Nay then, I will not: you shall have the mustard, Or else you get no beef of Grumio.

KATHARINA: Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.

GRUMIO: Why then, the mustard without the beef.

KATHARINA: Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, That feed'st me with the very name of meat: Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you, That triumph thus upon my misery! Go, get thee gone, I say.

PETRUCHIO: How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort?

HORTENSIO: Mistress, what cheer?

KATHARINA: Faith, as cold as can be.

PETRUCHIO: Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully upon me. Here love; thou see'st how diligent I am To dress thy meat myself and bring it thee: I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. What, not a word? Nay, then thou lovest it not; And all my pains is sorted to no proof. Here, take away this dish.

KATHARINA: I pray you, let it stand.

PETRUCHIO: The poorest service is repaid with thanks; And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.

KATHARINA: I thank you, sir.

HORTENSIO: Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame. Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.

PETRUCHIO:

Haberdasher: Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.

PETRUCHIO: Why, this was moulded on a porringer; A velvet dish: fie, fie! 'tis lewd and filthy: Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell, A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap: Away with it! come, let me have a bigger.

KATHARINA: I'll have no bigger: this doth fit the time, And gentlewomen wear such caps as these

PETRUCHIO: When you are gentle, you shall have one too, And not till then.

HORTENSIO:

KATHARINA: Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak; And speak I will; I am no child, no babe: Your betters have endured me say my mind, And if you cannot, best you stop your ears. My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, Or else my heart concealing it will break, And rather than it shall, I will be free Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.

PETRUCHIO: Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap, A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie: I love thee well, in that thou likest it not.

KATHARINA: Love me or love me not, I like the cap; And it I will have, or I will have none.

PETRUCHIO: Thy gown? why, ay: come, tailor, let us see't. O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here? What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon: What, up and down, carved like an apple-tart? Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash, Like to a censer in a barber's shop: Why, what, i' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?

HORTENSIO:

Tailor: You bid me make it orderly and well, According to the fashion and the time.

PETRUCHIO: Marry, and did; but if you be remember'd, I did not bid you mar it to the time. Go, hop me over every kennel home, For you shall hop without my custom, sir: I'll none of it: hence! make your best of it.

KATHARINA: I never saw a better-fashion'd gown, More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable: Belike you mean to make a puppet of me.

PETRUCHIO: Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee.

Tailor: She says your worship means to make a puppet of her.

PETRUCHIO: O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread, thou thimble, Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail! Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou! Braved in mine own house with a skein of thread? Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant; Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou livest! I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.

Tailor: Your worship is deceived; the gown is made Just as my master had direction: Grumio gave order how it should be done.

GRUMIO: I gave him no order; I gave him the stuff.

Tailor: But how did you desire it should be made?

GRUMIO: Marry, sir, with needle and thread.

Tailor: But did you not request to have it cut?

GRUMIO: Thou hast faced many things.

Tailor: I have.

GRUMIO: Face not me: thou hast braved many men; brave not me; I will neither be faced nor braved. I say unto thee, I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces: ergo, thou liest.

Tailor: Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify

PETRUCHIO: Read it.

GRUMIO: The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so.

Tailor:

GRUMIO: Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom of brown thread: I said a gown.

PETRUCHIO: Proceed.

Tailor:

GRUMIO: I confess the cape.

Tailor:

GRUMIO: I confess two sleeves.

Tailor:

PETRUCHIO: Ay, there's the villany.

GRUMIO: Error i' the bill, sir; error i' the bill. I commanded the sleeves should be cut out and sewed up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble.

Tailor: This is true that I say: an I had thee in place where, thou shouldst know it.

GRUMIO: I am for thee straight: take thou the bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me.

HORTENSIO: God-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall have no odds.

PETRUCHIO: Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me.