Friday, June 3, 2011

Katherina's Monologue

Really, the only appropriate-lengthened monologue for Katherina is the one at the very end of the play, in Act 5 Scene 2. It's rather long, so I am only doing the first thirty lines or so. Her monologue is addressed to her sister and the widow. She is basically reprimanding them for how they are treating their husbands. This monologue is important because it shows how she has changed. 145 pages ago, she would be disagreeing with 95% of what she is saying. After she finishes speaking, Lucentio and Vincentio  compliment Petruchio on how well he has "tamed" her. Petruchio, pleased, excuses himself and Kate as they leave for bed. The end.


Act 5 Scene 2
Luccentio's lodgings


Katherina Fie, fie! Unknit that threat'ning 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 moved 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 labor 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 ashamed 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.

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