Taming of the Shrew Scene

Well you have heard, but something hard of hearing:

They call me Katharina that do talk of me.

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

Moved in good time: let him that moved you hither

Remove you hence: I knew you at the first

You were a moveable

You lie, in faith; for you are call’d plain Kate…

Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.

A join’d-stool.

Why, what’s a moveable?

Asses are made to bear, and so are

you.

Thou has hit it: come, sit on me.

No such jade as you, if me you mean.

Women are made to bear, and so are you.

Too light for such a swain as you to catch;

And yet as heavy as my weight should be.

Alas! good Kate, I will not burden thee;

For, knowing thee to be but young and light—

Well ta’en, and like a buzzard.

Should be! Should—buzz!

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

O slow wing’s turtle! shall a buzzard take thee?

If I he waspish, best beware my sting.

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

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

My remedy is then, to pluck it out.

In his tongue.

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

Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell.

Whose tongue?

That I’ll try.

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

So may you lose your arms:

If you strike me, you are no gentleman;

And if no gentleman, why then no arms.

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

What is your crest? a coxcomb?

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

No cock of mine; you crow too like a craven.

A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.

It is my fashion, when I see a crab.

Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour.

There is, there is.

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

Had I a glass, I would.

Then show it me.

Well aim’d of such a young one.

What, you mean my face?

Yet you are wither’d.

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

I care not

‘‘Tis with cares.

I chafe you, if I tarry: let me go.

Nay, hear you, Kate; in sooth you scape not so.

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

No, not a whit: I find you passing gentle…

O, let me see thee walk: thou dost not halt.

Where did you study all this goodly speech?

Did ever Dian so become a grove…

And then let Kate be chaste and Dian sportful!

A witty mother! witless else her son.

It is extempore, from my mother-wit.

Yes; keep you warm.

Am I not wise?