I did...
I did this monologue for a friend and she performed it the other day infront of her classmates and it was well recieved... I am a genious!
mind you... I wrote this off the top of my head in an instant message, and I had read the original monologue about 4 years ago and was going purely from memory...
My parody of one of Kate’s monologues from the Taming of the Shrew by W. Shakespeare.
Canids, canids! Chew not your masters slippers, nor squat on their rugs, as this is to disrespect he who feeds and houses you. A disobedient dog is like an arrogant feline, and in such a condition none, no matter how lonely and seeking a companion, will stop to pet and play. Your master is your life, your keeper, your deliverer of food, your scratchier of belly.
Long dreary days he sits at a desk, working mindlessly like a zombie, by night he tends to the house and endures the hardships while you lay cozy on the couch, and in exchange he wants only your love, happy demeanor, and loyal obedience-such a small payment for the luxuries of a spoiled dog.
A dog owes his master, the same loyalty that a man does his creator... And when he is sour and disobedient to his masters wishes what is he but a warlike rebel and ungrateful traitor to his loving master.
I am ashamed that other dogs are… are so foolish to wage war by piddling on their masters carpet and chewing their slippers to shreds, when they should rest their chin on their masters leg and give loving comfort at the end of the day, as to melt the masters troubles.
Why our fur so soft and smooth, and our bodies so radiant with heat, unfit by our masters doing for toil and trouble in the world, is it not our duty to give comfort and love to the hand that feeds us. Come, come, you ungrateful beasts and be man's best friend! My ghost has been as proud as each of yours, my fearless courage as magnificent, and my reason perhaps better suited to loving barks to change frown to smile.
Humble your pride and place your tongue to your masters face showing him love with slobbering dog-kisses as a gesture of love, and carry his paper to him as a gesture of pure canine loyalty, as your love is ready if he cares to use it... may you bring him comfort until the end of your days together
KATE: 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 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 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,
Whey 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?
Come, come, you froward and unable worms,
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason haply more,
To bandy word for word and frown for frown.
But now I see our lances are but straws,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
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.
mind you... I wrote this off the top of my head in an instant message, and I had read the original monologue about 4 years ago and was going purely from memory...
My parody of one of Kate’s monologues from the Taming of the Shrew by W. Shakespeare.
Canids, canids! Chew not your masters slippers, nor squat on their rugs, as this is to disrespect he who feeds and houses you. A disobedient dog is like an arrogant feline, and in such a condition none, no matter how lonely and seeking a companion, will stop to pet and play. Your master is your life, your keeper, your deliverer of food, your scratchier of belly.
Long dreary days he sits at a desk, working mindlessly like a zombie, by night he tends to the house and endures the hardships while you lay cozy on the couch, and in exchange he wants only your love, happy demeanor, and loyal obedience-such a small payment for the luxuries of a spoiled dog.
A dog owes his master, the same loyalty that a man does his creator... And when he is sour and disobedient to his masters wishes what is he but a warlike rebel and ungrateful traitor to his loving master.
I am ashamed that other dogs are… are so foolish to wage war by piddling on their masters carpet and chewing their slippers to shreds, when they should rest their chin on their masters leg and give loving comfort at the end of the day, as to melt the masters troubles.
Why our fur so soft and smooth, and our bodies so radiant with heat, unfit by our masters doing for toil and trouble in the world, is it not our duty to give comfort and love to the hand that feeds us. Come, come, you ungrateful beasts and be man's best friend! My ghost has been as proud as each of yours, my fearless courage as magnificent, and my reason perhaps better suited to loving barks to change frown to smile.
Humble your pride and place your tongue to your masters face showing him love with slobbering dog-kisses as a gesture of love, and carry his paper to him as a gesture of pure canine loyalty, as your love is ready if he cares to use it... may you bring him comfort until the end of your days together
KATE: 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 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 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,
Whey 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?
Come, come, you froward and unable worms,
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason haply more,
To bandy word for word and frown for frown.
But now I see our lances are but straws,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,
That seeming to be most which we indeed least are.
Then vail your stomachs, for it is no boot,
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.