The Taming of the Shrew: Act 3

Fiddler, forbear. You grow too forward, sir.

But, wrangling pedant, this is
The patroness of heavenly harmony.

Then give me leave to have prerogative,
And when in music we have spent an hour,
Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.

Oh fie, the treble jars!

Now let me see if I can conster it. Hic ibat Simois, I know you not; hic est Sigeia tellus, I trust you not; Hic steterat Priami, take heed he hear us not; regia, presume not; celsa senis, despair not.

Now let me see if I can conster it. Hic ibat Simois, I know you not; hic est Sigeia tellus, I trust you not; Hic steterat Priami, take heed he hear us not; regia, presume not; celsa senis, despair not.

The bass is right. ’Tis the base knave that jars.

Madam, before you touch the instrument,
To learn the order of my fingering
I must begin with rudiments of art,
To teach you gamut in a briefer sort,
More pleasant, pithy, and effectual
Than hath been taught by any of my trade.

Madam, before you touch the instrument,
To learn the order of my fingering,
I must begin with rudiments of art;
To teach you gamut in a briefer sort,
More pleasant, pithy and effectual,
Than hath been taught by any of my trade:
And there it is in writing, fairly drawn.

Gamut I am, the ground of all accord

But I have cause to pry into this pedant.

What will be said? What mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage?

I told you, I, he was a frantic fool,
Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behavior

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 humor.

Oh, 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 humor of forty fancies pricked in ’t for a feather.

Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate,
An eyesore to our solemn festival.

And tell us what occasion of import
Hath all so long detained you from your wife
And sent you hither so unlike yourself.

Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear.

Sufficeth I am come to keep my word,
Though in some part enforcèd to digress,
Which at more leisure I will so excuse
As you shall well be satisfied with all.

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.

That by degrees we mean to look into,
And watch our vantage in this business.

Trembled and shook, for why he stamped and swore
As if the vicar meant to cozen him.

Trembled and shook, for why he stamped and swore
As if the vicar meant to cozen him.

This done, he took the bride about the neck
And kissed her lips with such a clamorous smack
That at the parting all the church did echo.

And I, seeing this, came thence for very shame,
And after me I know the rout is coming.

Hark, hark, I hear the minstrels play.

’Tis like you’ll prove a jolly surly groom,
That take it on you at the first so roundly.

Go to the feast, revel and domineer,
Carouse full measure to her maidenhead,
Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves.

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.

Draw forth thy weapon. We are beset with thieves.