The Taming of the Shrew (1967) - full transcript

Baptista, a rich Paduan merchant, announces that his fair young daughter, Bianca, will remain unwed until her older sister, Katharina, a hellish shrew, has wed. Lucentio, a student and the son of a wealthy Pisan merchant, has fallen in love with Bianca. He poses as a tutor of music and poetry to gain entrance to the Baptista household and to be near Bianca. Meanwhile, Petruchio, a fortune-hunting scoundrel from Verona, arrives in Padua, hoping to capture a wealthy wife. Hortensio, another suitor of Bianca, directs Petruchio's attention to Katharina. When Hortensio warns him about Katharina's scolding tongue and fiery temper, Petruchio is challenged and resolves to capture her love. Hortensio and another suitor of Bianca, Gremio, agree to cover Petruchio's costs as he pursues Katharina.




Master Lucentio.

Now, in fulfillment
of my great desire

to see fair Padua,
nursery of arts,

I am arriv'd in
fruitful Lombardy,

the pleasant
garden of great Italy.

And by my father's
love and leave am arm'd

with his good will
and thy good company.

So shall I please my father,
Lord Vincentio,

who sent me hither
from our home in Pisa,

on this, the first day
of the scholar's year,

to study at the university, and deck
his fortune with my virtuous deeds.

Here let us breathe
and haply institute

a course of learning
and ingenious studies.

And therefore, Tranio,
for the time I'll study Virtue,

and that part of philosophy

will I apply which
treats of happiness

by virtue
specially to be achiev'd.

Tell me, Tranio,

tell me thy mind, for I have
Pisa left and am to Padua come.

As he that leaves a shallow plash
to plunge him in the deep,

and with satiety seeks
to quench his thirst.

Why then, Lucentio,
gentle master mine.

I am in all
affected as yourself,

glad that you thus
continue your resolve

to suck the sweets
of sweet philosophy.


But let us not be
so confined by learning

that love becomes an outcast

quite abjur'd.

No profit grows where is no
pleasure taken. Huh?




Come scholar come scholar

Tell me true

What can I teach
you to do do do?

Teach me no
scholarship nor no trade

Teach me to tumble thee

My little pretty maid

Lucentio? Lucentio!





Unveil! Unveil!


Unveil! Unveil!

Who would his love bestow

On looks he may never know?

Lady unveil unveil unveil

- Beauty's a thing to show.
- No.

To show

O let me tell gentle maiden

Let me tell

If it be true

That thy beauty casts a spell

If true it be

Take pity and give me leave

To do for thee

All that Adam did for Eve

I'll do it well gentle maid

I'll do it well


Tranio, I burn,
I pine, I perish, Tranio,

if I achieve not
that young modest girl.


Is it possible that love should
of a sudden take such hold?


Haste to the house.
Your sister is mad.

Out of my way, fool!

Bianca! Bianca!

Bianca... Bianca! Bian...

Signor Baptista...

importune me no further,

for how I firmly am
resolv'd you know,

not to bestow my
younger daughter Bianca

before I have
a husband for the elder.


Before I have
a husband for the elder!

If either of you
two love Katharina,

leave shall you have
to court her at your pleasure.

O, hideous pleasure.
She's too rough for me.

I pray you, Father,

is it your will to make a whore
of me among these mates?

Mates, maid, how mean you that?

- No mates for you unless you
were of milder, gentler mold.

I' faith, sir, you
shall have no need to fear.

Such mating is not
half way to my heart.

But if it were,
doubt not my care should be

to paint your face,
and use you like a fool.

And comb your noddle
with a three-legg'd stool.

That wench is stark mad
or wonderful forward.

But in the other's silence I do see
Maid's mild behavior and sobriety.

Let it not
displease thee, good Bianca,

For I will love thee
none the less my girl.

You are my most
obedient and loving daughter.

Pretty pet!

O, sister,
content you in my discontent.

Sir, to your pleasure
humbly I subscribe.

My books and instruments
shall be my company,

on them to look
and practice by myself.

O, Tranio, thou may'st
hear a goddess speak.

Go in, Bianca.

O, no!

Why, will you lock her up, Signor
Baptista, for this fiend of hell,

and make her bear
the penance of her tongue?

Gentlemen, content ye.
I am resolv'd.


And for I know
she taketh most delight

in music,
instruments, and poetry.

Schoolmasters will I keep within
my house fit to instruct her youth.

If you, Hortensio, or Signor
Gremio, you, know any such,

conduct them hither, for to
schoolmasters I will be very kind.

And so farewell.

Fiend of hell!


If you love the maid, bend thoughts
and wits to achieve her.

Thus it stands. Her elder
sister is so curst and shrewd

that till the father
rids his hands of her, Master,

your love must lie
a maid at home.

Ah, Tranio,
what a cruel father's he!

But... Art thou not advis'd

he took some care to get her cunning
schoolmasters to instruct her?

I have it, Tranio.

By my hand, Master, both our
inventions meet and jump in one.


You will be the schoolmaster, and
undertake the teaching of the maid.

We have not yet
been seen in any house,

nor can we be distinguish'd by
our faces for man or master.

Then it follows thus.

Thou shalt be master,
Tranio, in my stead,

and be in Padua here
Vincentio's son.

I am content to be Lucentio,
because so well I love Lucentio.

Keep house, and port,
and servants, as I should.

And introduce me
as a schoolmaster,

fit to instruct Baptista's
youngest daughter.

'Tis hatch'd, and shall be so.



Signor Gremio!

A truce to our enmity,

for the time it profits us
better to be friends.

This matter toucheth us both.

We may yet again have access
to our fair mistress

and be happy rivals
for Bianca's love,

if we labor to effect
one thing especially.

What's that, I pray?

Marry, sir, to get
a husband for her sister.

A husband? A devil.

- I say a husband.
- I say a devil.

Now thinkest thou, Hortensio,
though her father be very rich,

any man is such a fool
as to be married to hell?


Rush, Gremio.

Though it pass your patience and
mine to endure her loud alarums,

why, man, there be
good fellows in the world,

if one could but light on them,

would take her
with all her faults,

for the sake of
her father's fortune.

I would not do it
for a mine of gold.

Help Katharina to a husband

and we help Bianca
to become a wife.

Thine or mine?

He that runs fastest gets the ring.
How say you, Signor Gremio?

I am agreed.

- There must be such a man.
- Yes.

I would give
the best horse in Padua

to whoever would
thoroughly woo her,

wed her, bed her,
and rid the house of her.

There must be such a man.

There must be such a man.

There must be such a man.

Out of my path!

O, Grumio!


Here, Sirrah Grumio,
knock, I say.

Knock, sir?
Whom should I knock?

A- ha!

Is there any man has
rebused your worship?

Villain, I say,
knock me here soundly.

Knock you where, sir?

Knock me at my
friend Hortensio's gate,

and rap me well,
or I'll knock your knave's pate.

Ah! My master is
grown quarrelsome.

I should knock you first, and then
I know after who comes by the worst.

Sirrah, will you not knock?
Or I'll ring it.

Masters! Help, masters!
My master is mad.

Ring when I tell you.



Ah! Well met,
my dearest friend, Hortensio.


What's the matter?

Rise, Grumio, rise.

If this be not a lawful cause for me
to leave his service, look you, sir.

He bid me knock...

Senseless villain.

Signor Hortensio, I bade this
rascal knock upon my gate,

and could not for my
heart get him to do it.

Knock at the gate? O heavens!

Spake you not the words plain,
"Knock me here..."?

Sirrah, be gone,
or talk not, I advise you.

Signor Petruchio,
what happy gale

blows you to Padua
here from old Verona?

You and your trusty,
pleasant servant Grumio.

Signor Hortensio,
thus it stands with me

Antonio, my father, is deceas'd,

and I have thrust myself
into this maze,

haply as best I may to
thrive and wive.


Thrive and wive.


Saidst thou?

Her father is Baptista Minola,
an affable and courteous gentleman.

Her name is Katharina Minola.


Petruchio, shall I
then come roundly to thee,

and wish thee to
a shrewd ill-favor'd wife?

Thou'dst thank me but
a little for my counsel,

and yet I promise
thee she shall be rich,

and very rich.

But then,
th'art too much my friend,

and I'll not wish thee to her.

O' my word,
and she knew him as well as I do,

she'd think scolding
would do him little good.

Signor Hortensio,

'twixt such friends
as we few words suffice.

And therefore, if you know one
rich enough to be Petruchio's wife.

Since wealth's the 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.

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 old trot with
ne'er a tooth in her head,

and though she have as many
diseases as two and fifty horses.

Why, nothing comes amiss,
so money comes withal.

Crowns have I in my purse,
and goods at home.

And so am come
abroad to see the world.

To find a fortune and to woo...

A wife.

And when I came
at last to wife

With a heigh-ho

The wind and the rain

By swaggering
could I never thrive

For the rain it
raineth every day

I will not sleep, Hortensio,
till I see her.

With a heigh-ho

The wind and the rain

For the rain it raineth every

By swaggering

By swaggering
could I never thrive

For the rain it
raineth every day

When that I was
a tiny little boy

With a heigh-ho

The wind and the rain

A foolish thing was but a toy

The rain it raineth

Now, Petruchio.

If I do...

If I do plot thy
match with Katharina,

there is a favor
I would ask of thee

to help me woo her
younger sister, Bianca.

Ask it, and so it be
not gold, 'tis grant'd.

Then shall my friend
Petruchio do me grace,

and offer me
disguis'd in sober robes

to old Baptista
as a schoolmaster.

As a schoolmaster.

Well versed 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
woo her by myself.

Unrecognized by ancient Gremio!

'Tis Gremio,
the rival of my love.

God save you, Signor Gremio.

And you are well met,
Signor Hortensio.

Know you where I am going?

To Baptista.

I promis'd to
enquire most carefully

about a schoolmaster
for fair Bianca,

and by good fortune...


I have lighted well
on this young man.

Go on now.

A proper stripling
and an amorous.

'Tis well. And I have here another
gentleman, Signor Petruchio of Verona.

Who will undertake
to woo the curst Katharine.

Yea, and to marry her,
if her dowry please.

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 wildcat?

And will I live?

Signor Petruchio.

I'll mar thee till no man
dare look on thee.

No... No. No!


Take that! And that!

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 not I
in a pitched battle heard

loud 'larums, neighing steeds,
and trumpets' clang?

Let me crack thee!

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 farmer's fire?

Rush, tush, fear boys with bugs!

Nay, I will swear so loud.

O, no! Sister, no!

O, good sister, wrong me not,
nor wrong yourself,

to make a bondmaid
and a slave of me.


Of all thy suitors here
I charge thee tell

whom dost thou lov'st best.

Believe me, sister,

of all the men alive I never
yet beheld that special face

which I could fancy
more than any other.

Minion, thou liest.

Katharina! Katharina! Bianca!

Daughters! Daughters!

What, in my sight?

Ah, Bianca, get thee in.

Why dost thou wrong her
that did ne'er wrong thee?

When did she cross
thee with a bitter word?

Nay, now I see.

She is your treasure,
she must have a husband,

I must dance barefoot
on her wedding-day.

Daughter Katharina, I pray you!

Talk not to me,
I will go sit and weep,

till I can find
occasion for revenge.

Katharina! Katharina!

Signor Baptista.

Good morrow, good my neighbor.

Neighbor, I promis'd
to enquire most carefully

about a schoolmaster
for fair Bianca.

Well read in poetry
and other books,

and by good fortune,
I have lighted well.

Neighbor, I freely give
unto you this young scholar,

that hath long been
studying at Rheims

and other universities where
he has acquir'd his learning,

cunning in Latin...

And Greek...

And other languages.

His name is Cambio.

Pray accept his service.


A thousand thanks, Signor.


May I be so bold as to ask
the cause of your coming?

Ya! 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.


Lucentio is my name.

His name is Litio,
born in Mantua.

Lucentio is my name,

and I, this little packet
of Greek and Latin...



Pray, have you not a daughter
call'd Katharina, fair and virtuous?

I have a daughter,
sir, call'd Katharine.

And I, sir, if I get
your daughter's love,

what dowry shall I
have with her as wife?

Nay, nay! You are too blunt,
go to it orderly.

But whence are you?

What may I call your name?

Signor Baptista,
my business asketh haste,

and every day
I cannot come to woo.

I am a gentleman of Verona, sir,

that hearing of her beauty
and her wit,

her affability
and gentle modesty.

Her wondrous qualities
and mild behavior,

am bold to show myself a
forward guest within your house,

to make mine eye the witness of
that report I have so often heard.

Petruchio is my name,
Antonio's son,

a man well known
throughout all Italy.

Now, sir,
if I get your daughter's love,

what dowry shall I
have with her as wife?

After my death

the one half of my lands,

and in possession

twenty thousand crowns.

Saving your tale, Petruchio,

I pray let us that are poor
petitioners speak too.

And for that dowry

I'll assure her of her widowhood,
be it that she survive me,

with all my lands
and leases whatsoever.


Signor Antonio's son!


Take you the lute,
you the set of books.

You shall go see your pupils.


Sirrah, lead these
gentlemen to my daughters.

Tell her they are her tutors.
Bid her use them well.


All my lands and leases

Let specialties be
therefore drawn between us,

that covenants may be
kept on either hand.

Ay, when one special
thing is well obtain'd,

I mean, her love,

for that is all in all.

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.

Vile instrument!

Fat-fingered gut plucker!

Twangling Jack!

But be thou arm'd for

some unhappy words.

Signor Baptista!
Master! Master!

How now, my friend,
why dost thou look so pale?

For fear, I promise you,
if I look pale.

And will my daughter
prove a good musician?

She'll sooner prove a soldier.

Iron may hold with her,
but never lutes.

Now, by the world,
it is a lusty wench.

O, how I long to
have some chat with her.

- Come with me,
and be not so discomfited.

Proceed in practice
with my younger daughter.

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 refuse to wed...

Refuse to wed,

I'll crave the day when
I shall ask the banns, and...

When be married.

Good morrow, Kate.

That's your name, I hear.

Well, have you heard,
but something hard of hearing.

They call me
Katharine that do talk of me.

You lie, I' faith, for
you are call'd plain Kate,

and bonny Kate,
and sometimes Kate the curst.

But Kate, the prettiest
Kate in Christendom,

Kate of Kate Hall,
my super-dainty Kate.

For dainties are all Kates,
and therefore, Kate,

take this of me,
Kate of my consolation.

Hearing thy mildness
prais'd in every town.

Thy virtues spoken of,
and thy beauty sounded.

Yet not so deeply
as thou dost deserve.

Myself am mov'd to
woo thee for my wife.


In good time!

Let him that mov'd you hither
remove you hence.

I knew you at the first
you were a movable.

Why, what's a movable?

A stool. Like this!

Then, sit on me.

Asses are made to bear,
and so are you.

Women are
made to bear, and so are you.

Not such a load as yours,
if me you mean.

Nay, come, good Kate,
I will not burden thee!

For, knowing thee to
be but young and light.

Too light for such
a swain as you to catch.

Father! This man...

Vincentio, my father, hath no
less than three great argosies,

besides two merchant ships
and 12 light galleys.


Nay, leave his lecture.

Fiddler, forbear.
You grow too forward, sir.

Have you so soon
forgot the entertainment

her sister Katharine
welcom'd you withal?

Wrangling pedant!

This is the patroness
of heavenly harmony.

Preposterous ass! You may go
walk, and give me leave awhile.

Go tune your instrument.

My instrument's in tune.

Spit in the hole, man,
and tune again.

Think upon that, sir,
and keep your place.

You'll leave his lecture
when I am in tune?

That will be never.

Good morrow, Kate.

Good Kate. I am a gentleman...

That I'll try.

Come, come, you wasp,
I' faith, you are too angry.

If I be waspish,
best beware my sting.

My remedy, then,
is to pluck it out.

Ay, if the fool
could find where it lies.

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

- In his tongue.
- Whose tongue?

Yours, if you talk of tales,
and so farewell.

What, with my tongue
in your tail?


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

If... if you strike me,
you are no gentleman.

Now, Kate, I am
a husband for your choice...

You rogue!

For by this light,
whereby I see thy beauty.

Thy beauty that doth
make me like thee well...

Monstrous villain, go!

Thou must be married to
no man but me.

Thou must be married to
no man but me.

For I am he am born
to tame you, Kate.

To bring you from
a wildcat to a Kate

conformable as
other household Kates.

Conformable as
other household Kates.


Thou canst not frown,
thou canst not look askance.

Nor bite the lip,
as angry wenches will.

Nor hast thou
pleasure to be cross in talk.

But thou with mildness
entertain'st thy wooers,

with gentle conference,
soft and affable.

And will you, nill you,

I will marry you.

I'd rather die!


My 20,000 crowns.


Signor Baptista!

Signor Baptista! Katharina!



Call you me daughter?

Now I promise you have show'd
a tender fatherly regard

to wish me
wed to one half lunatic,

a madcap ruffian
and a swearing Jack,

who thinks with oaths
to face the matter out.

Signor Petruchio...

How speed you with your wooing?

How but well, sir?
How but well?

It were impossible
I should speed amiss.

In sooth, you scape not so.

I chafe you, if I tarry.
Let me go.

'Twas told me you were rough,
and coy, and sullen,

and now I find
report a very liar.

For thou art pleasant,
gamesome, passing courteous,

and slow in speech,
but sweet as spring-time flowers.

Where did you study
all this goodly speech?

It is extempore,
from my mother-wit.

A witty mother,
with a witless son.

Am I not wise?

Enough to keep you warm.

Marry, so I mean to
warm me in thy bed.

And will you, nill you,
I will marry you.

Why does the world
report that Kate doth limp?

O slanderous world!

Kate like the hazel-tree
is straight and slender,

and brown in hue as hazel-nuts
and sweeter than the kernels.

Signor Baptista...

Gentlemen, content you,

I will compound this strife.

'Tis deeds must win the prize,

and he among you who can assure
my daughter greatest wealth

shall have Bianca's love.


Here comes your father.
Never make denial.

I must and will have
Katharine for my wife.

Was ever match
clapp'd up so suddenly?

But now, Baptista,
to your younger daughter.


I must confess
your offer is the best.

Albeit his father
sign the covenant.

Albeit he hath
a father so to sign.

And if your father make her
the assurance, she is your own.

Signor Petruchio.


'Tis thus.

Yourself and all the world that talk'd
of her have talk'd amiss of her.

She is not proud,
but modest as the dove.

She is not hot,
but temperate as the morn.

And to conclude, we have
'greed so well together

that upon Sunday
is the wedding-day.

I'll see thee
hang'd on Sunday first.

'Twas bargain'd 'twixt us,
when we were alone,

that she shall still
seem curst in company.

Of all things living,
a man's the worst.

I tell you 'tis incredible to
believe how much she loves me.

I'll see thee
hang'd on Sunday first.

O, my sweet Katharina.

O, the kindest Kate!

She hung about my neck,
and kiss on kiss.

She vied so fast,
protesting oath on oath,

that in a twink
she won me to her love.

O, you are novices.

'Tis a world to see,
when she and I are both alone,

how tame a milksop wretch
can make the cursest shrew.

Of all things living,
a man's the worst.


Father and friends.
Father and friends, adieu.

I will to Venice to buy apparel
'gainst the wedding-day.

We will have rings,
and things, and fine array.

And... Kiss me, Kate,

we will be married o' Sunday.

Ring-a-ding ring-a-ding

Hark to the steeple ringing

Ring-a-ding ring-a-ding

Ding-dong bell

Signor Baptista!









Petruchio is coming.

What will be said?

What mockery will it be
to lack the bridegroom

when the priest attends to speak
the ceremonial rites of marriage!

What says Lucentio
to this shame of ours?

No shame but mine.

Now must the world point at
poor Katharina, and say...

Mad Petruchio's wife, if it would
please him come and marry her.

Petruchio is coming!
Petruchio is coming!

Petruchio is coming!
Petruchio is coming!

In an old hat and an old jerkin.

A pair of old
breeches thrice turned,

with an old mothy saddle
and stirrups of different families.

How does my father?

Good morrow, gentles.

Gentles, methinks you frown.

And wherefore gaze
this goodly company,

as if they saw some
wondrous monument,

some comet, or unusual prodigy?

Fie, doff this habit,
shame on your estate.

An eyesore to our
solemn festival!

What, will you be
married to my daughter thus?

Good sooth, even thus.
Therefore ha' done with words.

To me she's married,
not unto my clothes.

But what a fool
I am to chat with you,

when I should bid
good morrow to my bride,

and seal the title
with a lovely kiss.

Nay, by God's wounds.




wilt thou take Katharina
to be thy lawful wedded wife?



wilt thou take Katharina
to be thy lawful wedded wife?

The ring.

The ring.

The ring...

The ring...

Petruchio, wilt thou take Katharina
to be thy lawful wedded wife?

Marry I will!



wilt thou take Petruchio to be
thy lawful wedded husband?

I will n...



Fall to, good people.
Eat and drink your fill.


Gentlemen and friends,
I thank you for your pains.

I know you think to
dine with me today,

and have prepar'd
great store of wedding cheer,

but so it is,
business doth call me hence.

And therefore here
I mean to take my leave.

Is't possible you
will away tonight?

I must away today
before night comes.

Make it no wonder.

If you knew my business, you would
entreat me rather go than stay.

And honest company,
I thank you all

that have beheld me
give myself away

to this most patient,
sweet, and virtuous wife.

Dine with my father,
drink a health to me.

For I must hence,
and farewell to you all.

Let us entreat you
stay till after dinner.

It may not be.

- Let me entreat you.
- It cannot be.

Let me entreat you.

I am content.

Are you content to stay?

I am content you
should entreat me stay.

But yet not stay,
entreat me how you can.

Grumio, my horses.

Ay, sir, they be ready.

Nay then, do what thou canst,
I will not go today.

No, nor tomorrow,
till I please myself.

The door is open, sir,
there lies the way,

you may be jogging
till your boots are green.

For me, I'll not be gone
till I please myself.

Daughter, content ye,
prithee be not angry.

I will be angry,
what hast thou to do?

Father, be quiet,
he shall stay my leisure.

forward to the bridal dinner.

I see a woman may be made a fool

if she had not
the spirit to resist.

They shall go forward, Kate,
at thy command.

Obey the bride,
you that attend on her.

Go to the feast,
revel and domineer,

carouse full measure
to her maidenhead.

Be mad and merry,
or go hang yourselves.

But for my bonny Kate,
she must with me.

Nay, look not big, nor stamp,
nor stare, nor fret.

I will be master
of what is mine own.

She is my goods,
my chattels, she is my house.

My household stuff,
my field, my barn,

my horse, my ox, my ass, my
anything, and here she stands,

touch her whoever dares!

I'll bring mine action on the proudest
he that stops my way in Padua.

Grumio, draw forth thy weapon,
we are beset with thieves,

rescue thy mistress
if thou be'est a man.

Fear not, sweet wench,
they shall not touch thee, Kate.

I'll buckler thee
against a million.

Father! Father!



O, go hang yourselves!

You foul, loathsome swine.

A pox on thee.

Come up. Hup! Hup! Hup!

Had they not gone quickly,
I should have died with laughing.

Of all mad matches
never was the like.

Mistress, what's your
opinion of your sister?

That being mad herself,
she's madly mated.

I warrant you,
Petruchio is Kated.

Come, Kate. Come, Kate.
Forward, Kate, forward.

You fool!

Follow me, Kate,
if thou be not too feeble.

Come, Kate.

Wed to one half lunatic,
a madcap ruffian...

Hey, master!


Hup, there.

A pox on thee!


Where be these knaves?

What, no man at door to hold
my stirrup nor to take my horse?

Gregory? Philip?

Nathaniel? Curtis?


More. More.

Where is the life where is
the life that late I led?

Where is the life
that late I led?

It's gone it's gone

It's gone it's gone it's gone

It's gone

Sit down, Kate, and welcome.

You logger-headed
and unpolish'd grooms!

What, no attendance?
No regard? No duty?

You peasant swain!

You whoreson malt-horse drudge!

Did not I bid thee
ride ahead post-haste,

and have all things made
proper for thy mistress?

Nathaniel's coat, sir,
was not ready made,

and Gregory's pumps
were all unpink'd I' th' heel.

And Philip's dagger
was not fully sheath'd.

Yet, as they are,
here are they come to serve you.

Go, rascals, go,
and fetch my supper in.

Go, rascals, go.




Give me a chicken!



Food, food, food!


Where be these knaves?

All things is ready.

Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry.

Be merry, Kate.

Some water here.
What ho! Water.


Shall I have some water?



Patience, I pray you,
'twas a fault unwilling.

- A whoreson beetle-headed,
flap-ear'd knave!

Come, Kate, sit down,
I know you have a stomach.

Shall you give thanks,
good Kate, or else shall I?

- Amen.
- Amen.





What's this? Chicken?


Who brought it?




'Tis burnt,
and so is all the meat.

What dogs are these!
Where is the rascal cook?

How durst thou, villains,
bring it from the dresser

and serve it thus to me
who loves it not?

Here, take it to you,
trenchers, cups, and all.

I pray you, husband,

be not so disquiet.

The meat was well,

if you had been so contented.

I tell thee, Kate,
'twas burnt and dried away,

and I expressly am
forbid to touch it.

For it engenders anger,
planteth choler.

And better 'twere
that both of us did fast

than feed it with such
over-roasted flesh.

Be patient,
tomorrow it shall be mended.

And for this night
we'll fast for company.

Come, I will bring thee
to thy bridal chamber.


Where is the life
that late he led?

It's gone it's gone

It's gone it's gone
it's gone away


Fools! In what fashion
have you made her bed?

With here a pillow flung
and there a bolster.

This way the coverlet,
and that the sheets.

How, in this hurly-burly,
may a groom

tenderly woo
and win his loving bride?

Gregory! Curtis!
Philip! Nathaniel! Grumio!

I spit on you,
that you should treat her thus.

This is the way to
kill a wife with kindness.




Good morrow, Kate.

What, sweeting, all forlorn?

How fares my Kate?


'Tis passing fair.

Nay, nay.

Master. Master!

Master, I have watch'd so long
that I am dog-weary.

But at last I spied a man most suitable
to play your father.

An ancient angel
coming down the hill.

Whom Tranio doth
follow and approach.

God save you, sir.

And you, sir.
You are welcome.

What countryman, I pray?

Of Mantua, sir.


From Mantua?
Marry, God forbid!

And come to Padua,
careless of your life?

My life, sir? How, I pray?
For that goes hard.

'Tis death for any one in
Mantua to come to Padua.

Nay, 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.

Alas, sir,
what would you advise me do?

This will I do,
and this I will advise you do

to save your life
in this extremity,

this favor will I
do you for your sake.

And think it not
the worst of all your fortunes

that you are like
to Lord Vincentio.

Your plainness and
your shortness please me well.

Right true it is
your son Lucentio here

doth love my daughter,
and she loveth him.

Now therefore
if you give me this assurance

that like a father
you will deal with him,

and pass my daughter
a sufficient dowry,

and covenants be signed.

At thy son's lodging for walls
have ears and I have many servants.

Why, then, he has
consent to wed Bianca.

Signor Baptista.

The match is made,
the ceremony appointed

for Sunday next,
and I will give a feast

which, with
the citizens of Padua here,

Petruchio and Katharine
shall attend.

Mistress, what cheer?

Faith, as cold as can be.

Pluck up your spirits,
look cheerfully upon me.

Your father bids us
to Bianca's wedding,

and thither must we journey,
bravely clad.

Tailor and haberdasher
wait thy leisure

to deck thy body
with their ruffling treasure.

Come, tailor,
let us see these ornaments.

What's the news with you, sir?

Here is...

Here is the cap
your worship did bespeak.

Why, this was
molded on a porringer!

O, I like the cap.

A velvet dish!
Fie, fie! 'Tis lewd.

- Lewd?
- 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 see a bigger.

I'll have no bigger.

This doth fit the time,

and gentlewomen wear
such caps as these.

When you are gentler, you shall
have one, too, and not before.

Why, sir,

I trust I may have leave to
speak, and speak I will.

I am no child, no babe.

Your betters have
endur'd me speak 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.

I love thee well in
that thou lik'st it not.

Love me or love me not,
I like the cap,

and it I will have,
or I will have none.

The gown.

Come, tailor, let us see't.

O mercy, God!
What mummer's stuff is here?

What's this? A sleeve?
'Tis like a demi-cannon.

What, up and down,
carv'd like an apple tart?

Why, what the devil's name,
tailor, call'st thou this?

You bid me make it
orderly and well,

according to
the fashion and the time.

O monstrous arrogance!
Thou liest, thou thread, thou thimble.

- No!
- Thou yard, three-quarters, thou liest.

Thou half-yard, quarter, inch, thou
flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou!

Away, thou rag,
thou quantity, thou remnant,

or I shall so bemete thee
with thy yard

as thou shalt think on
prating whilst thou liv'st.

Well, come, my Kate,
we must unto your father's

even in these
honest mean habiliments.

Our purses shall be proud,
our garments poor,

for 'tis the mind
that makes the body rich,

and as the sun breaks
through the darkest clouds,

so honor peereth
in the meanest habit.

What, is the jay more
precious than the lark

because his feathers
are more beautiful?

Or is the adder
better than the eel

because his painted
skin contents the eye?

O no, good Kate,

neither art thou the worse
for this poor furniture and mean array.

If thou account'st it shame,
blame it on me.


Say thou wilt see
the tailor paid.

And therefore frolic.

And now, my honey love,

we will return unto
your father's house,

and revel it as
bravely as the best.

With silken coats and caps,
and golden rings,

and ruffs and cuffs
and farthingales and things,

with amber bracelets, beads,
and scarfs and fans.

When shall we leave?

Why, now.

What is't o'clock?

'Tis day.

'Tis night.

'Tis 7:00.

'Tis 2:00 at most.

It shall be 7:00
or I will not ride.

Look what I speak, or do, or think
to do, you are still crossing of it.


Let it alone,
I will not go today, or ere I do,

it shall be
what o'clock I say it is.

'Tis 7:00.

Come on, a God's name,
once more unto your father's.

Good Lord, how bright
and goodly shines the moon!

I say it is the moon.

I know it is the moon.

Why, then you lie.
It is the blessed sun.

Then, God be blest,
it is the blessed sun.

But sun it is not,
when you say it is not,

and the moon changes
even as your mind.

What you will have it nam'd,
even that it is,

and so it shall be
so for Katharine.

Forward, forward.

But soft,
what company is coming here?

Good morrow,
gentle mistress, where away?

Tell me, sweet Kate,
and tell me truly too,

hast thou beheld
a fresher gentlewoman?

Such war of white
and red within her cheeks!

What stars do spangle
heaven with such beauty

as those two eyes become
that heavenly face?

Fair lovely maid,

once more good day to thee.

Sweet Kate, embrace her
for her beauty's sake.

Young budding virgin,

fair, and fresh, and sweet.

Whither away,
or where is thy abode?

Oh. Happy the parents
of so fair a child.

Happier the man
whom favorable stars

will allot for his
lovely bedfellow.

Why, how now, Kate,
I hope thou art not mad.

This is a man, old,
wrinkled, faded, wither'd,

and not a maiden,
as thou say'st he is.

O pardon, old father,
for my mistaking eyes,

that have been so
bedazzled by the sun?


That everything I see
is green and young.

Now I perceive
thou art a reverend father.

Pardon, I pray thee,
for my mad mistaking.

Pardon her, grandsire, and withal
make known which way thou travel'st.

If along with us,
we shall be joyful of thy company.

Fair sir, and you
my merry mistress,

that with your strange
encounter much amaz'd me,

my name is call'd Vincentio,

my dwelling Pisa.

renowned for grave citizens,

and bound I am to Padua,

there to visit a son of mine,
who long I have not seen.

He studies at the university.
His name is called Lucentio!


- Biondello...
- Shh.

Softly and swiftly, sir,

for even now the priest
is marrying Hortensio

to the lusty widow
of his choice.

And, once the church
is emptied, hath agreed

to marry you in secret
to your mistress.

We fly, Biondello.


Tell me, kind sir, is this the
house of one Lucentio?

Ay, but they are busy within
arguing over dowries.

You'd best knock louder.

Who's he that knocks as
he would beat down the door?

Is Signor Lucentio within, sir?

He's within, sir,
but not to be spoken to withal.

I pray you tell Signor Lucentio
that his father

is here at the door
to speak with him.

Thou liest.

His father is here
looking out at the window.

Thou? His father?

Ay, sir, so his mother says,

if I may believe her.

Why, how now, old gentleman!

This is flat knavery, to take
upon yourself another man's name.

Lay hands on the villain.

I believe he means
to cheat somebody

in this city
under my countenance.

Biondello. Biondello!


Come hither, crack-hemp.

My master's father,
Lord Vincentio.

Come hither, you rogue.

What, have you forgot me?

Forgot you, sir?
No, sir. No, sir.

I could not
forget you, sir, for...

I never saw you
before in all my life.

What, you notorious villain, didst
thou never see thy master's father?

Help! Son!

Sir, what are you that
offer to beat my servant?

What am I, sir?
Nay, what are you, sir?

O immortal gods!

O fine villain!

What, a silken doublet,
a velvet hose,

a scarlet cloak,
and a sugar-loaf hat!

O... O, I am undone. O...

O, I am undone.

I am undone! My son and my servant
spend all at the university.

What, is the man lunatic?

Why, sir, what concerns it you
if I wear pearl and, and, and gold?

I thank my good father,
I am able to maintain it.

Thy father?

His father's
a sail-maker in Bergamo.

You mistake, sir,
you mistake, sir.

Pray, what do you
think is his name?

His name?
As if I knew not his name!

I've brought him up ever since
he was three years old,

and his name is Tranio.


Away, away, mad ass!

His name is Lucentio, and he is mine
only son, and heir to the lands of me.


Villain. O villain!

Villain! Villain!

My servant hath murdered my son!

Lay hold on him, I charge you,
in the Duke's name.

O, my son, my son!

Tell me, thou villain,
where is my son Lucentio?

Call forth an officer.

Deny him, forswear him, sir,
or else we are all undone.

How dare you lay hands on me!

You will see,
I shall protest the Duke.

He will punish home
this cave of cozenage.

Pardon, sweet father.

Lives my sweet son.

Pardon, sweet father.

let's into my father's house.

First kiss me, Kate,
and we will.

What, in the midst
of the street?

What, art ashamed of me?

No, sir, God forbid.

But ashamed to kiss.

Why, then, let's home again.

Nay, I will give thee a kiss.

Now pray thee, love, stay.

Grumio, my wine.

Nothing but sit and sit,
and eat and eat!

Padua affords this kindness,
son Petruchio.

Padua affords
nothing but what is kind.

For both our sakes I
would that word were true.

I' faith, Hortensio
feels the fear of his widow.

I am not afeard.

I mean Hortensio
is afeard of you.

Your husband,
being troubled with a shrew,

measures my
husband's trouble by his own.

And now you know my meaning.

A very mean meaning.

Right, I mean you.

To her, Kate!

To her, widow!

A hundred crowns,
my Kate will lay her flat.

That's my office.

By your leave, my lords,
the ladies would withdraw.


Petruchio, I begin to wonder

if thou hast wed
the veriest shrew of all.

I say no.
And therefore for assurance

let's each one
send unto his wife,

and he whose wife
is most obedient,

to come the moment
he doth send for her,

shall win the wager
which we will propose.


What was the wager?

Two hundred crowns.

Two hundred crowns?

I'll venture so much
on my hawk and hound,

but twenty times so
much upon my wife.

So be it, then.
Four thousand crowns.



Who shall begin?

That will I. Biondello?

Go, Biondello,
bid your mistress come to me.

I will share half
your stake Bianca comes.

I'll have no halves.
I'll bear it all myself.

How now, what news?

Sir, my mistress sends you word

that she is busy
and she cannot come.

How? She is busy, and she cannot come?
Is that an answer?

Ay, and a kind one too.

Pray God, sir, your
wife send you not a worse.

I hope for better.



Biondello, go and entreat my
wife to come to me...


O ho, entreat her!
Nay, then she needs must come.

I am afraid, sir, do what you can,
yours will not be entreated.

Where is my wife?

She will not come.

She bids you come to her.

Worse and worse,
she will not come!

O vile, intolerable,
not to be endur'd!

Grumio, go to thy mistress,

say I command her to come to me.

I know her answer.


She will not come.

See where she comes.

O, come, come, you're mocking.

Nay, nay, I will not.

Fie, fie!

Unknit that
threatening unkind brow,

and dart not scornful
glances from those eyes,

to wound thy lord,
thy king, thy governor.

It blots thy beauty as
frosts do bite the meads.

Thy husband is thy lord,
thy life,

thy keeper,
thy head, thy sovereign,

one that cares for thee,

and for thy
maintenance commits his body

to painful labor
both by sea and land,

to watch the night in storms,
the day in cold,

while thou liest warm at home,
secure and safe,

he craves no other tribute at
thy hands but love, fair looks,

and true obedience,

too little payment...
for so great a debt.

Such duty
the subject owes the prince

even such a woman
oweth to her husband.

And when she is froward,
peevish, sullen, sour,

and not obedient
to his honest will,

what is she but
a foul contending rebel,

and graceless
traitor to her loving lord?

I am asham'd that
women are so simple

to offer war when they
should kneel for peace,

or seek for rule,
supremacy, and sway,

when they are bound to serve,
love, and obey.


are our bodies soft,
and weak, and smooth,

unapt to toil and
trouble in the world,

but that our soft
conditions and our hearts

should well agree
with our external parts?

you froward and unable worms.


My mind hath been as
big as one of yours,

my heart as great,
my reason haply more,

to bandy word for
word and frown for frown.

But now I see our
lances are but straws.

Come, place your hands
below your husband's foot.

In token of which duty,
if he please,

my hand is ready,

may it do him ease.

Why, there's a wench!

Come on, and kiss me, Kate.

I won the battle,
you have yet to fight,

and being a winner,
God give you...

Good night.