The Shrew of Padua
The shrew of Padua has wed the brute of Verona.
Oh, but what match is finer than this? Good Kate
Must have a husband, so would it not do to find
One such as her? Father thought, sweet Kate must
Marry a man even sweeter than her. So he found
Petruchio, the brute who plays at being a man.
Dear Petruchio, my husband, the fool, may speak in
Honeyed words pleasant to my good father's ear,
But they hide bitter truths known to none who listen.
He speaks of love and companionship as he pulls Father's
Strings with a smile. Baptista, famed Baptista, gentle
Father of beautiful Bianca and wretched Kate, is
But a puppet to Petruchio's whims. None but
The bride may glimpse beyond the veil he has so
Lovingly cast upon the simple and weak-minded
Gentlefolk of Padua. None but the bride shall
Tarry with the beast. I may play at the docile
Wife, but the shrew will not be tamed. For who
But the shrew has claws to brave this fight,
To tear the shroud and bring enlightenment.
But for now, whether I am the bride, the shrew or
Plain Kate, I must wait. I must wait. Say he,
The sun is the moon, or the shrivelled old man
Is but a docile young maiden. The sweet bride must attest
This. For what could dear Petruchio say but what is
Plain to see? My noble husband, for now his lies shall
Become my truth. But one day, some day, the shrew will
Lead the brute to its perdition.