Taming Of The Shrew Quotes

My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.

Sit by my side, and let the world slip: we shall ne'er be younger.

How poor are they that have no patients! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?'" "Shakespeare isn't going to save you this time, Superman. Your time's run out." He scowled. "Perhaps I should have been studying The Taming of the Shrew!

There's small choice in rotten apples.

If I be waspish, best beware my sting.

I see a woman may be made a fool, If she had not a spirit to resist.

Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry. Katherine: If I be waspish, best beware my sting. Petruchio: My remedy is then, to pluck it out. Katherine: Ay, if the fool could find where it lies. Petruchio: Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail. Katherine: In his tongue. Petruchio: Whose tongue? Katherine: Yours, if you talk of tails: and so farewell. Petruchio: What, with my tongue in your tail? Nay, come again, Good Kate; I am a gentleman.

He kills her in her own humor.

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

Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts?

If she and I be pleased, what's that to you?

She moves me not, or not removes at least affection's edge in me.

The poorest service is repaid with thanks.

Say she rail; why, 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.

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 praised in every town, Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs, Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.

Better once than never, for never too late.

Forget Romeo and Juliet. This was much closer to The Taming of the Shrew.

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.

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, Whilst thou li’st 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 no obedient to his honest will, What is she but a foul contending rebel, And graceless traitor to her loving lord? I 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?

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

We will have rings and things and fine array

Tis hatched and shall be so

Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds, that shakes not, though they blow perpetually.

I read that I profess, the Art of Love. Bianca: And may you prove, sir, master of your art! Lucentio: While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart!

For I am born to tame you, Kate, And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate Comfortable as other household Kates.

too much sadness hath congealed your blood, And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.

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.

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.

Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life, and, to be short, what not that's sweet and happy.

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.

I am agreed, and would I had given him the best horse in Padua to begin his wooing that would thoroughly woo her, wed her, and bed her, and rid the house of her

This is a way to kill a wife with kindness, And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour. He that knows better how to tame a shrew, Now let him speak. 'Tis charity to show.

Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow Never to woo her more, but do forswear her As one unworthy all the former favors That I have fondly flattered her withal.

Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady. Would 'twere done.

Think you a little din can daunt mine ears? Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Have I not heard the sea, puffed up with winds, Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat? Have I not heard great ordinance in the field, And Heaven's artillery thunder in the skies? Have I not in a pitched battle heard Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang? 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? Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs. Grumio: For he fears none.

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?

She vied so fast, protesting oath after oath, that in a twink she won me to her love. O, you are novices. 'Tis a world to see How tame, when men and women are alone, A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.

Of all matches never was the like.

Such a mad marriage never was before.

By this reckoning he is more a shrew than she.

Cuando las manzanas están podridas, es difícil escoger.

Whate'er I read to her. I'll plead for you As for my patron, stand you so assured, As firmly as yourself were in still place - Yea, and perhaps with more successful words Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir. O this learning, what a thing it is!

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 nightingail: Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear As morning roses newly washt 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 be wed, I'll crave the day When I shall ask the banns, and when be married.

And I have thrust myself into this maze, Haply to wive and thrive as best I may.

Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love – and so I take my leave, In resolution as I swore before. -Hortensio

What, is the jay more precious than the lark Because his fathers are more beautiful? Or is the adder better than the eel Because his painted skin contents the eye?

Away you three-inch fool!

It cannot, however, be said that this Petruchio had as yet tamed his own peculiar shrew. Lucinda was as savage as ever, and would snap and snarl, and almost bite.

Preposterous ass, that never read so far To know the cause why music was ordain'd! Was it not to refresh the mind of man After his studies or his usual pain? (The Taming of the Shrew, 3.1.10-13), Lucentio

Son of a bitch. She was blackmailing him. He had to hand it to her, she was clever. “How about one interview?” “How about you get rid of what’s-her-name without my help?” Kelly replied sweetly. “Fine,” he gritted out. “But you’d better make this good.” “Kayla isn’t the only actress in the family.” She reached up and patted his cheek with her key card. “I’ve dabbled in the performing arts myself. I played Kate in Taming of the Shrew when I was in college.” “I can’t think of a better part for you,” he snapped. “Let’s get this over with.

And let me be a slave t' achieve that maid Whose sudden sight hath thralled my wounded eye

Well, sir, who’s paying for the glasses you broke?

And therefore, Tranio, for the time I study 17 Virtue, and that part of philosophy 18 Will I apply that treats of happiness 19 By virtue specially to be achieved.

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

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.

I come to wive it wealthily in Padua

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

that would thoroughly woo her, wed her and bed her and rid the house of her!

...May I hold your hand?" "No, I may need it to push you down the stairs.

What is love? 'Tis not hereafter. Present mirth hath present laughter. What’s to come is still unsure. In delay there lies no plenty. Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty. Youth’s a stuff will not endure.

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.

At the end of the play, the shrew is tamed (...). All good fun. Under the guise of comedy, the most horrible acts are perpetrated on a woman. It's a nightmare, because the sexism is so completely accepted - It is simply "the way it is". Nowhere is it questioned.

Послушайте! Когда спросил священник, Готов ли взять он в жены Катарину, Он громко завопил: "Да, черт возьми!" — И начал так отчаянно божиться, Что ужаснулись все, а сам священник От перепугу требник уронил; Когда ж нагнулся, чтоб поднять его, Жених ему такого дал пинка, Что поп свалился наземь вместе с книгой.

إنه لأمر هين لأني أؤكد،يا أبتي ، إني حاد الطبع بقدر ما هي مغرورة عنيدة ، إذا التقت ناران ثائرتان معا في مكان ، فإنهما تلتهمان ما يغذي أوارهما. فإن تكن النار الخافتة تذكو بالريح الهادئة فإن هبة الريح العاصفة تذهب بالنار وبما حولها وهكذا أنا بالنسبة إليها.وهكذا ستخضع لي. لأني عنيف وخشن ولن أتقرب إليها في رقة الرضيع.

The genesis of my interest in being a writer can be traced to fourth grade when we listened to a radio production of Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew and I asked the teacher if I could rewrite it for our class to present. Nothing like going head-to-head with the Bard, right? I can still visualise the pages I filled creating this first "great" literary endeavor. Encouraged by teachers (and one doting grandmother), I went on to write reams of yearbook copy in high school and college and, then, to teach high school English. My "real" writing career didn't begin until I turned from education to the full-time pursuit of storytelling.

بالله أرسلها وسأنتظرها هنا. وسأتقرب إليها في شئ من العنف والحماسة عندما تأتي ولنفرض أنها شتمت في سلاطة،فسأقول لها في بساطة، إنك لتغنين أعذب من غناء العندليب. ولنفرض أنها عبست،فسأقول لها يا وضاحة الجبين، إنك لتوحين كورود الصباح باكرها الندى منذ حين ولنفرض أنه سكتت،وأبت أن تنطق بحرف. فسأقول لها ما أبرعك في الكلام وما أبلغك! إنك لتنطقين بنافذ القول،أو بالدر الثمين. فإذا هي أمرتني أن أنصرف عنها،فسأشكرها، كما لو كانت قد طلبت إلى أن أظل إلى جوارها أسبوعا. فإذا هي رفضت أن تتزوجني،فسألتمس منها أن تحدد يوم إعلان الزواج ويوم إتمامه.

Glad that you thus continue your resolve To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy Only, good master, while we do admire This virtue and this moral discipline, Let's be no Stoics nor no stocks, I pray, Or so devote to Aristotle's checks As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured. Balk logic with acquaintance that you have, And practise rhetoric in your common talk, Music and poesy use to quicken you, The mathematics and the metaphysics Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you. No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en. In brief, sir, study what you most affect.

It only took Ysabel one day to screw with one of his finest trackers. Lucifer fought an urge to shake his head. “Let me get this straight. After pissing Ysabel off, to the point she’s going to come storming in here any minute demanding I fire you, you still want to work with her? Are you insane?” “I hope so,” Remy grinned. A smile cracked Lucifer’s face. “Congratulations. Your mother will be ecstatic. Consider it done. I like a male who doesn’t back down in the face of a shrew.” “Bah, she’s not a shrew. Just a little feisty. Besides, I think I might enjoy taming a cougar with claws.

But, of course, in real life, in the outside world, women do not have equality. They have been judged inferior to men -Adam's rib, his helpmate- with no soul of their own. This has been so since the beginning of Western civilization. Women may have been potent characters in plays by Aeschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles, but in classical Greek life, women were not allowed to leave their houses (except to go to the well or on certain feast days). Their names on all legal documents appear as "the daughter of so and so" or "the wife of so and so", They had almost no rights -"She is my goods, my chattels", as Petruchio says of Kate two thousand years later (Taming of the Shrew,3.2,220). And with the advent of Christianity we began the debate as to whether women had souls in their own right or whether they were an "add-on" to their husbands and fathers. What is clear is that the mother of Jesus had to be both a virgin and totally lacking in sexual desire. And she is the model for all women. By the time we get to Shakespeare's era, a widow would automatically inherit a third of her husband's possessions if he died (but those possessions became her new husband's if she remarried). Women probably had souls (but it was still being debated), and a woman was a monarch. But in neither classical Greece nor Elizabethan England could a woman portray a woman onstage [...]

He strode forward, heedless of the murmuring that began among the women when they saw him. Then Sara turned, and her gaze met his. Instantly a guilty blush spread over her cheeks that told him all he needed to know about her intent. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said in steely tones. “Class is over for today. Why don’t you all go up on deck and get a little fresh air?” When the women looked at Sara, she folded her hands primly in front of her and stared at him. “You have no right to dismiss my class, Captain Horn. Besides, we aren’t finished yet. I was telling them a story—” “I know. You were recounting Lysistrata.” Surprise flickered briefly in her eyes, but then turned smug and looked down her aristocratic little nose at him. “Yes, Lysistrata,” she said in a sweet voice that didn’t fool him for one minute. “Surely you have no objection to my educating the women on the great works of literature, Captain Horn.” “None at all.” He set his hands on his hips. “But I question your choice of material. Don’t you think Aristophanes is a bit beyond the abilities of your pupils?” He took great pleasure in the shock that passed over Sara’s face before she caught herself. Ignoring the rustle of whispers among the women, she stood a little straighter. “As if you know anything at all about Aristophanes.” “I don’t have to be an English lordling to know literature, Sara. I know all the blasted writers you English make so much of. Any one of them would have been a better choice for your charges than Aristophanes.” As she continued to glower at him unconvinced, he scoured his memory, searching through the hundreds of verse passages his English father had literally pounded into him. “You might have chosen Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew, for example—‘fie, fie! Unknit that threatening unkind brow. / And dart not scornful glances from those eyes / to wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor.’” It had been a long time since he’d recited his father’s favorite passages of Shakespeare, but the words were as fresh as if he’d learned them only yesterday. And if anyone knew how to use literature as a weapon, he did. His father had delighted in tormenting him with quotes about unrepentant children. Sara gaped at him as the other women looked from him to her in confusion. “How . . . I mean . . . when could you possibly—” “Never mind that. The point us, you’re telling them the tale of Lysistrata when what you should be telling them is ‘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 by both sea and land.’” Her surprise at this knowledge of Shakespeare seemed to vanish as she recognized the passage he was quoting—the scene where Katherine accepts Petruchio as her lord and master before all her father’s guests. Sara’s eyes glittered as she stepped from among the women and came nearer to him. “We are not your wives yet. And Shakespeare also said ‘sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more / men were deceivers ever / one foot on sea and one on shore / to one thing constant never.’” “Ah, yes. Much Ado About Nothing. But even Beatrice changes her tune in the end, doesn’t she? I believe it’s Beatrice who says, ‘contempt, farewell! And maiden pride, adieu! / no glory lives behind the back of such./ and Benedick, love on, I will requite thee, / taming my wild heart to thy loving hand.’” “She was tricked into saying that! She was forced to acknowledge him as surely as you are forcing us!” “Forcing you?” he shouted. “You don’t know the meaning of force! I swear, if you—” He broke off when he realized that the women were staring at him with eyes round and fearful. Sara was twisting his words to make him sound like a monster. And succeeding, too, confound her.

Of all mad matches never was the like Being mad herself, she’s madly mated.

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

Your honour's players, hearing your amendment, Are come to play a pleasant comedy, For so your doctors hold it very meet, Seeing too much sadness hath congealed your blood, And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy. Therefore they thought it good you hear a play, And frame your mind to mirth and merriment, Which bars a thousand harms and lenghtens life.

Good master, while we do admire This virtue and this moral discipline, Let’s be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray, Or so devote to Aristotle’s checks As Ovid be an outcast quite abjured. 5 Balk logic with acquaintance that you have, And practice rhetoric in your common talk. Music and poesy use to quicken you; The mathematics and the metaphysics, Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you. 10 No profit grows where is no pleasure ta’en. In brief, sir, study what you most affect. —TRANIO, The Taming of the Shrew, 1.1.29–40 In other words: Listen, boss. We all think highly of ethics and morality. But—please—let’s not eliminate fun altogether, or turn ourselves into stuffed shirts. Let’s not dedicate ourselves to a life of restraint and throw away pleasure altogether. (Let’s not get all hung up with that stickler Aristotle about stuff like right and wrong, and throw Ovid’s stories about people who get naked right out the window.) Work on your analytical skills by figuring out how to split the check. Use linguistic theory in your everyday chitchat. By all means listen to music and read poetry, but purely for your enjoyment. As for math and philosophy, get involved in that stuff only when you’re really in the mood. You can’t learn anything if you’re miserable. Here’s my point: as far as study goes, stick to the subjects you like.

Everyone knows that, in the absence of evidence to the contrary, a woman is probably a shrew. And shrews, of course, need taming.

The opposition between women who are people and women who are something less does not only rest in the vague contrast between the women of the comedies and the women of the tragedies. There are more explicit examples of women who may earn love, like Helena who pursued her husband through military brothels to marriage and honour in All’s Well, and women who must lose it through inertia and gormlessness, like Cressida. In The Taming of the Shrew Shakespeare contrasted two types in order to present a theory of marriage which is demonstrated by the explicit valuation of both kinds of wooing in the last scene. Kate is a woman striving for her own existence in a world where she is a stale, a decoy to be bid for against her sister’s higher market value, so she opts out by becoming unmanageable, a scold. Bianca has found the women’s way of guile and feigned gentleness to pay better dividends: she woos for herself under false colours, manipulating her father and her suitors in a perilous game which could end in her ruin. Kate courts ruin in a different way, but she has the uncommon good fortune to find Petruchio who is man enough to know what he wants and how to get it. He wants her spirit and her energy because he wants a wife worth keeping. He tames her like he might a hawk or a high-mettled horse, and she rewards him with strong sexual love and fierce loyalty. Lucentio finds himself saddled with a cold, disloyal woman, who has no objection to humiliating him in public. The submission of a woman like Kate is genuine and exciting because she has something to lay down, her virgin pride and individuality: Bianca is the soul of duplicity, married without earnestness or good-will. Kate’s speech at the close of the play is the greatest defence of Christian monogamy ever written. It rests upon the role of a husband as protector and friend, and it is valid because Kate has a man who is capable of being both, for Petruchio is both gentle and strong (it is a vile distortion of the play to have him strike her ever). The message is probably twofold: only Kates make good wives, and then only to Petruchios; for the rest, their cake is dough.

To be corrupt or not to be corrupt, that was never one answer.

(Describing a stop at a village cafe in Italy while filming Taming of the Shrew) It was a perfect choice, the kind of place where chickens brood under the table, though there were none here There was the usual arbour of vines. Two men there intrigued Elizabeth. One was a distinguished oldish man, well dressed, who sat alone at a terraced table and neither ate nor drank nor moved. The other looked like a mendicant monk of some obscure order. He read from a parchment and ate bread. He didn't look up at all. He had a large beard. At seven-thirty just at dusk a Mass began at the church on the hill the other side of the road The Church of the Madonna of the Divine Love. The voices of the choir drifted on the air like an invisible mist, like unseen tumbleweed, like a dream. we stopped eating our fave (raw kidney beans) and rough cheese and we stopped drinking the vin de pays to listen. It was one of those moments which are nostalgic before they're over. The two men had gone, the tramp monk maybe to the Mass and the other who knows where. we drove home feeling holy and clean while the moon bright as I've ever seen her and with a wisp of chiffon cloud around her throat (E's image not mine) shone on us from the cloudless night.

And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale.

AMORT  (AMO'RT)   adv.[à la mort, Fr.]In the state of the dead; dejected; depressed; spiritless. How fares my Kate? what, sweeting, all amort?Shakespeare’sTaming of the Shrew.

There is no greater enjoyment than taming a shrew you love.

Coffin,” as used in this recipe, meant a pie covered with a top crust. Coffin comes from the Middle French cofin for basket or holder. Pies and coffins were rectangular, square, or round and often had crusts thick enough to support the filling without an outer pan. 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’est it not. THE TAMING OF THE SHREW,

It doesn’t matter who ‘rules.’ Petruchio and Katherina are in love and so long as love exists, ‘ruler’ and ‘ruled’ lose their meaning. Petruchio looked only for money, and got love, too. Katherina looked for nothing and got love. It is completely happy ending.

each Shakespearean reference is taken from a specific Shakespearean character. These are the characters I paired together: Cady: Miranda in The Tempest. Miranda is an ingenue who has lived most of her life secluded with her father in a remote wilderness, not unlike Cady. (I broke this pairing once, when Cady uses lines borrowed from Hero in Much Ado About Nothing. The quote from Hero was so perfect for the moment that I had to use it. Can you find it?) Janis: Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing. Beatrice has a caustic, biting wit and a fierce loyalty to her friends. Regina: Kate in Taming of the Shrew. Kate, the titular shrew, starts off the play as a harsh woman with a sharp tongue. Gretchen: Viola in Twelfth Night. Viola, dressing as a man, serves as a constant go-between and wears a different face with each character. Karen: Juliet in Romeo and Juliet. Juliet is the youngest of Shakespeare’s heroines. She is innocent and hopeful. Mrs. Heron: Cleopatra in Antony and Cleopatra. Cleopatra is the regal, intelligent woman who has come from Africa. Mrs. George: Lady Macbeth in Macbeth. Lady Macbeth is one of Shakespeare’s cruelest, most cunning villains. Yes, this is unfair to Amy Poehler’s portrayal of Mrs. George, who is nothing but positive and fun. My thought was that anyone who could raise Regina must be a piece of work. Ms. Norbury: Titania in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. There’s little textual connection here—I just love Tina Fey so much that I thought, “Who could represent her except a majestic fairy queen?

I'd be honoured to marry you Miss Browne." "Yes, I'm sure. Who else would be stupid enough to marry a penniless de Vere? I've had my solicitor draw up a legal document this morning. You'll sign away your rights to my inheritance and I'll give you a clothing allowance and monthly spending money. Gamble a farthing and I'll poison you.

This is a pleasant little room. The greenish-blue colour makes your lovely hair look like polished copper." "Save your cant for the deaf. How do you take your tea?

...But my babies might look like him; I don't want children with orange hair." "Why not?" "Because it's ugly." "I like it." "Well he won't marry you, you're old and stink like laudanum." "Pity.

My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart, concealing it, will break. —Shakespeare, The Taming of the Shrew

Shakespeare never knew why has written "The Taming Of The Shrew". I still had to come. To tame. The Taming Of The Shrew.

William Shakespeare never knew why he has been writing "The Taming Of The Shrew". I still had to come. To tame. The Taming Of The Shrew.

But all the story of the night told over, / And all their minds transfigured so together, / More witnesseth than fancy’s images, / And grows to something of great constancy; / But, howsoever, strange and admirable

Now the hungry lion roars, And the wolf behowls the moon,Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, All with weary task fordone

You may be jogging whiles your boots are green.