Splendid, this witch I see before me,
Stupendous, this beautiful shrew.
For how I have longed for such a woman,
One with which I may hold a battle of tongues,
Of wit! This lovely shrew seems worthy
Of me, like none are. Surely she sees it
For it is as plain as the stars in the sky,
As the wind in the trees, as the fire in her eyes.
I am to take this as a challenge, for it must be.
Her harsh words speak of hatred, but beneath which
Surely she pines for me as I do her.
Not as a man burns for a woman,
But as a scholar longs for a fellow creature of intellect.
Her forbidding words sing to my heart as if a lark,
She must be mine. I will have her,
And she will have me. For we will be equals,
In minds and in marriage. My lovely Katherina,
My Kate. Beneath the heavens for the ears
Of the Gods themselves, I attest my love
Of sweet Katherina. The one they call the Shrew,
With no apt admiration for such beautiful, ugly creatures.
My Katherina, by Sunday we shall marry before
Our beloved, it is to them I shall sing my praises for
Sweet Katherina, and she will be then mine,
For all to witness.