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Speeches (Lines) for Katherina
in "Taming of the Shrew"

Total: 82

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Gremio. To cart her rather. She's too rough for me.
There, there, Hortensio, will you any wife?

Katherina. [To BAPTISTA] I pray you, sir, is it your will
To make a stale of me amongst these mates?



Hortensio. Mates, maid! How mean you that? No mates for you,
Unless you were of gentler, milder mould.

Katherina. I' faith, sir, you shall never need to fear;
Iwis it is not halfway to her heart;
But if it were, doubt not her care should be
To comb your noddle with a three-legg'd stool,
And paint your face, and use you like a fool.



Baptista Minola. Gentlemen, that I may soon make good
What I have said- Bianca, get you in;
And let it not displease thee, good Bianca,
For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl.

Katherina. A pretty peat! it is best
Put finger in the eye, an she knew why.



Baptista Minola. Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolv'd.
Go in, Bianca. Exit BIANCA
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, Signior Gremio, you, know any such,
Prefer them hither; for to cunning men
I will be very kind, and liberal
To mine own children in good bringing-up;
And so, farewell. Katherina, you may stay;
For I have more to commune with Bianca. Exit

Katherina. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not?
What! shall I be appointed hours, as though, belike,
I knew not what to take and what to leave? Ha! Exit



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.



Baptista Minola. 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.



(stage directions). [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



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.
Good morrow, Kate- for that's your name, I hear.

Katherina. Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing:
They call me Katherine that do talk of me.



Petruchio. You lie, in 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 spoke of, and thy beauty sounded,
Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,
Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife.

Katherina. Mov'd! in good time! Let him that mov'd you hither
Remove you hence. I knew you at the first
You were a moveable.



Petruchio. Why, what's a moveable?

Katherina. A join'd-stool.



Petruchio. Thou hast hit it. Come, sit on me.

Katherina. Asses are made to bear, and so are you.



Petruchio. Women are made to bear, and so are you.

Katherina. No such jade as you, if me you mean.



Petruchio. Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee!
For, knowing thee to be but young and light-

Katherina. Too light for such a swain as you to catch;
And yet as heavy as my weight should be.



Petruchio. Should be! should- buzz!

Katherina. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.



Petruchio. O, slow-wing'd turtle, shall a buzzard take thee?

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



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

Katherina. If I be waspish, best beware my sting.



Petruchio. My remedy is then to pluck it out.

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



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

Katherina. In his tongue.



Petruchio. Whose tongue?

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



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

Katherina. That I'll try. [She strikes him]



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

Katherina. So may you lose your arms.
If you strike me, you are no gentleman;
And if no gentleman, why then no arms.



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

Katherina. What is your crest- a coxcomb?



Petruchio. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen.

Katherina. No cock of mine: you crow too like a craven.



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

Katherina. It is my fashion, when I see a crab.



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

Katherina. There is, there is.



Petruchio. Then show it me.

Katherina. Had I a glass I would.



Petruchio. What, you mean my face?

Katherina. Well aim'd of such a young one.



Petruchio. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you.

Katherina. Yet you are wither'd.



Petruchio. 'Tis with cares.

Katherina. I care not.



Petruchio. Nay, hear you, Kate- in sooth, you scape not so.

Katherina. I chafe you, if I tarry; let me go.



Petruchio. No, not a whit; I find you passing gentle.
'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,
But slow in speech, yet sweet as springtime flowers.
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.
Why does the world report that Kate doth limp?
O sland'rous world! Kate like the hazel-twig
Is straight and slender, and as brown in hue
As hazel-nuts, and sweeter than the kernels.
O, let me see thee walk. Thou dost not halt.

Katherina. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'st command.



Petruchio. Did ever Dian so become a grove
As Kate this chamber with her princely gait?
O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate;
And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportful!

Katherina. Where did you study all this goodly speech?



Petruchio. It is extempore, from my mother wit.

Katherina. A witty mother! witless else her son.



Petruchio. Am I not wise?

Katherina. Yes, keep you warm.



Baptista Minola. Why, how now, daughter Katherine, in your dumps?

Katherina. Call you me daughter? Now I promise you
You have show'd a tender fatherly regard
To wish me wed to one half lunatic,
A mad-cap ruffian and a swearing Jack,
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.



Petruchio. Father, 'tis thus: yourself and all the world
That talk'd of her have talk'd amiss of her.
If she be curst, it is for policy,
For,she's not froward, but modest as the dove;
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;
For patience she will prove a second Grissel,
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity.
And, to conclude, we have 'greed so well together
That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.

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



Baptista Minola. [To TRANIO] Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed day
That Katherine and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we hear not of our son-in-law.
What will be said? What mockery will it be
To want the bridegroom when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage!
What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?

Katherina. No shame but mine; I must, forsooth, be forc'd
To give my hand, oppos'd against my heart,
Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen,
Who woo'd in haste and means to wed at leisure.
I told you, I, he was a frantic fool,
Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour;
And, to be noted for a merry man,
He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage,
Make friends invited, and proclaim the banns;
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
Now must the world point at poor Katherine,
And say 'Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her!'



Tranio. Patience, good Katherine, and Baptista too.
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
Whatever fortune stays him from his word.
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise;
Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.

Katherina. Would Katherine had never seen him though!



Petruchio. It cannot be.

Katherina. Let me entreat you.



Petruchio. I am content.

Katherina. Are you content to stay?



Petruchio. I am content you shall entreat me stay;
But yet not stay, entreat me how you can.

Katherina. Now, if you love me, stay.



Grumio. Ay, sir, they be ready; the oats have eaten the horses.

Katherina. Nay, then,
Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day;
No, nor to-morrow, not till I please myself.
The door is open, sir; there lies your way;
You may be jogging whiles your boots are green;
For me, I'll not be gone till I please myself.
'Tis like you'll prove a jolly surly groom
That take it on you at the first so roundly.



Petruchio. O Kate, content thee; prithee be not angry.

Katherina. I will be angry; what hast thou to do?
Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure.



Gremio. Ay, marry, sir, now it begins to work.

Katherina. Gentlemen, forward to the bridal dinner.
I see a woman may be made a fool
If she had not a spirit to resist.



Petruchio. Go, rascals, go and fetch my supper in.
[Exeunt some of the SERVINGMEN]
[Sings] Where is the life that late I led?
Where are those-
Sit down, Kate, and welcome. Soud, soud, soud, soud!
[Re-enter SERVANTS with supper]
Why, when, I say? Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry.
Off with my boots, you rogues! you villains, when?
[Sings] It was the friar of orders grey,
As he forth walked on his way-
Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry;
Take that, and mend the plucking off the other.
[Strikes him]
Be merry, Kate. Some water, here, what, ho!
[Enter one with water]
Where's my spaniel Troilus? Sirrah, get you hence,
And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither:
One, Kate, that you must kiss and be acquainted with.
Where are my slippers? Shall I have some water?
Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily.
You whoreson villain! will you let it fall? [Strikes him]

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



(stage directions). [Exeunt SERVANTS]

Katherina. I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet;
The meat was well, if you were so contented.



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

Katherina. 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 alms;
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity;
But I, who never knew how to entreat,
Nor never needed that I should entreat,
Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep;
With oaths 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?

Katherina. '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?

Katherina. 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?

Katherina. A dish that I do love to feed upon.



Grumio. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.

Katherina. 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.

Katherina. Then both, or one, or anything thou wilt.



Grumio. Why then the mustard without the beef.

Katherina. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave,
[Beats him]
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.



Hortensio. Mistress, what cheer?

Katherina. Faith, as cold as can be.



Petruchio. Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon me.
Here, love, thou seest 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 lov'st it not,
And all my pains is sorted to no proof.
Here, take away this dish.

Katherina. I pray you, let it stand.



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

Katherina. I thank you, sir.



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.

Katherina. I'll have no bigger; this doth fit the time,
And gentlewomen wear such caps as these.



Hortensio. [Aside] That will not be in haste.

Katherina. 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 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 lik'st it not.

Katherina. Love me or love me not, I like the cap;
And it I will have, or I will have none. Exit HABERDASHER



Petruchio. Marry, and did; but if you be rememb'red,
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.

Katherina. 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. Well, come, my Kate; we will 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 honour 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, lay it on me;
And therefore frolic; we will hence forthwith
To feast and sport us at thy father's house.
Go call my men, and let us straight to him;
And bring our horses unto Long-lane end;
There will we mount, and thither walk on foot.
Let's see; I think 'tis now some seven o'clock,
And well we may come there by dinner-time.

Katherina. I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two,
And 'twill be supper-time ere you come there.



Petruchio. Come on, a God's name; once more toward our father's.
Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon!

Katherina. The moon? The sun! It is not moonlight now.



Petruchio. I say it is the moon that shines so bright.

Katherina. I know it is the sun that shines so bright.



Hortensio. Say as he says, or we shall never go.

Katherina. Forward, I pray, since we have come so far,
And be it moon, or sun, or what you please;
And if you please to call it a rush-candle,
Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.



Petruchio. I say it is the moon.

Katherina. I know it is the moon.



Petruchio. Nay, then you lie; it is the blessed sun.

Katherina. Then, God be bless'd, 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 Katherine.



Hortensio. 'A will make the man mad, to make a woman of him.

Katherina. Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet,
Whither away, or where is thy abode?
Happy the parents of so fair a child;
Happier the man whom favourable stars
Allots thee for his lovely bed-fellow.



Petruchio. Why, how now, Kate, I hope thou art not mad!
This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, withered,
And not a maiden, as thou sayst he is.

Katherina. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,
That have been so bedazzled with the sun
That everything I look on seemeth green;
Now I perceive thou art a reverend father.
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.



Gremio. My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest;
Out of hope of all but my share of the feast. Exit

Katherina. Husband, let's follow to see the end of this ado.



Petruchio. First kiss me, Kate, and we will.

Katherina. What, in the midst of the street?



Petruchio. What, art thou asham'd of me?

Katherina. No, sir; God forbid; but asham'd to kiss.



Petruchio. Why, then, let's home again. Come, sirrah, let's away.

Katherina. Nay, I will give thee a kiss; now pray thee, love, stay.



Petruchio. Roundly replied.

Katherina. Mistress, how mean you that?



Petruchio. Very well mended. Kiss him for that, good widow.

Katherina. 'He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.'
I pray you tell me what you meant by that.



Widow. Your husband, being troubled with a shrew,
Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe;
And now you know my meaning.

Katherina. A very mean meaning.



Widow. Right, I mean you.

Katherina. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you.



Baptista Minola. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katherina!

Katherina. What is your sir, that you send for me?



Petruchio. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife?

Katherina. They sit conferring by the parlour fire.



Petruchio. I say she shall. And first begin with her.

Katherina. 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,
Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds shake fair buds,
And in no sense is meet or amiable.
A woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled-
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty;
And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it.
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 labour both by sea and land,
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks, and true obedience-
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as 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 where they should kneel for peace;
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.
Why 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?
Come, come, you forward 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,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
And 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.

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