The Taming of the Shrew [with Biographical Introduction]

by William Shakespeare

I am Christophero Sly; call not me 'honour' nor 'lordship:' I ne'er drank sack in my life; and if you give me any conserves, give me conserves of beef: ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay, sometimes more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the over-leather.

I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak; I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things: Upon my life, I am a lord indeed

No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en: In brief, sir, study what you most affect.

Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio, If I achieve not this young modest girl.

Her eldest sister is so curst and shrewd That till the father rid his hands of her, Master, your love must live a maid at home; And therefore has he closely mew'd her up, Because she will not be annoy'd with suitors.

Antonio, my father, is deceased; And I have thrust myself into this maze, Haply to wive and thrive as best I may:

After my death the one half of my lands, And in possession twenty thousand crowns.

And, Will you, nill you, I will marry you. Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn; For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty, Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well, Thou must be married to no man but me; For I am he am born to tame you Kate, And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate Conformable as other household Kates. Here comes your father: never make denial; I must and will have Katherine to my wife.

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 any thing; And here she stands, touch her whoever dare; 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 a man. Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch thee, Kate: I'll buckler thee against a million.

Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his master! 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?

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

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;

I am ashamed that women are so simple To offer war where they should kneel for peace;

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.