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!
[Exit, weeping, followed by BIANCA and others.]
BAPTISTA.
Go, girl, I cannot blame thee now to weep,
For such an injury would vex a very saint;
Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.
[Enter BIONDELLO.]
Master, master! News! old news, and such news as you never heard of!
BAPTISTA.
Is it new and old too? How may that be?
BIONDELLO.
Why, is it not news to hear of Petruchio’s coming?
BAPTISTA.
Is he come?
BIONDELLO.
Why, no, sir.
BAPTISTA.
What then?
BIONDELLO.
He is coming.
BAPTISTA.
When will he be here?
BIONDELLO.
When he stands where I am and sees you there.
TRANIO.
But, say, what to thine old news?
BIONDELLO.
Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new hat and an old jerkin; a pair of old breeches thrice turned; a pair of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled, another laced; an old rusty sword ta’en out of the town armoury, with a broken hilt, and chapeless; with two broken points: his horse hipped with an old mothy saddle and stirrups of no kindred; besides, possessed with the glanders and like to mose in the chine; troubled with the lampass, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls, sped with spavins, rayed with the yellows, past cure of the fives, stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the bots, swayed in the back and shoulder-shotten; near-legged before, and with a half-checked bit, and a head-stall of sheep’s leather, which, being restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repaired with knots; one girth six times pieced, and a woman’s crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her name fairly set down in studs, and here and there pieced with packthread.
BAPTISTA.
Who comes with him?
BIONDELLO.
O, sir! his lackey, for all the world caparisoned like the horse; with a linen stock on one leg and a kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered with a red and blue list; an old hat, and the ‘humour of forty fancies’ prick’d in’t for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian footboy or a gentleman’s lackey.
TRANIO.
‘Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion;
Yet oftentimes lie goes but mean-apparell’d.
BAPTISTA.
I am glad he’s come, howsoe’er he comes.
BIONDELLO.
Why, sir, he comes not.
BAPTISTA.
Didst thou not say he comes?
BIONDELLO.
Who? that Petruchio came?
BAPTISTA.
Ay, that Petruchio came.
BIONDELLO.
No, sir; I say his horse comes, with him on his back.
BAPTISTA.
Why, that’s all one.
BIONDELLO.
Nay, by Saint Jamy,
I hold you a penny,
A horse and a man
Is more than one,
And yet not many.
[Enter PETRUCHIO and GRUMIO.]
PETRUCHIO.
Come, where be these gallants? Who is at home?
BAPTISTA.
You are welcome, sir.
PETRUCHIO.
And yet I come not well.
BAPTISTA.
And yet you halt not.
TRANIO.
Not so well apparell’d
As I wish you were.
PETRUCHIO.
Were it better, I should rush in thus.
But where is Kate? Where is my lovely bride?
How does my father? Gentles, methinks you frown;
And wherefore gaze this goodly company,
As if they saw some wondrous monument,
Some comet or unusual prodigy?
BAPTISTA.
Why, sir, you know this is your wedding-day:
First were we sad, fearing you would not come;
Now sadder, that you come so unprovided.
Fie! doff this habit, shame to your estate,
An eye-sore to our solemn festival.
TRANIO.
And tell us what occasion of import
Hath all so long detain’d you from your wife,
And sent you hither so unlike yourself?
PETRUCHIO.
Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear;
Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word,
Though in some part enforced to digress;
Which at more leisure I will so excuse
As you shall well be satisfied withal.
But where is Kate? I stay too long from her;
The morning wears, ‘tis time we were at church.
TRANIO.
See not your bride in these unreverent robes;
Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine.
PETRUCHIO.
Not I, believe me: thus I’ll visit her.
BAPTISTA.
But thus, I trust, you will not marry her.
PETRUCHIO.
Good sooth, even thus; therefore ha’ done with words;
To me she’s married, not unto my clothes.
Could I repair what she will wear in me
As I can change these poor accoutrements,
‘Twere well for Kate and better for myself.
But what a fool am I to chat with you
When I should bid good-morrow to my bride,
And seal the title with a lovely kiss!
[Exeunt PETRUCHIO, GRUMIO, and BIODELLO.]
TRANIO.
He hath some meaning in his mad attire.
We will persuade him, be it possible,
To put on better ere he go to church.