Gru.
No, no; forsooth; I dare not, for my life.

Kath.
The more my wrong, the more his spite appears:

What, did he marry me to famish me?
Beggars, that come unto my father's door,

Upon entreaty, have a present alms;
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity:
But I,—who never knew how to entreat,—
Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep;
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed:
And that which spites me more than all these wants,
He does it under name of perfect love;
As who should say,—if I should sleep, or eat,
'Twere deadly sickness, or else present death.—
I pr'ythee go, and get me some repast;
I care not what, so it be wholesome food.

Gru.
What say you to a neat's foot?

Kath.
'Tis passing good; I pr'ythee let me have it.

Gru.
I fear, it is too cholerick a meat^{7 note}

Kath.
I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me.

Gru.
I cannot tell; I fear, 'tis cholerick.
What say you to a piece of beef, and mustard?

Kath.
A dish that I do love to feed upon.

Gru.
Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little^{8 note}

Kath.
Why, then the beef, and let the mustard rest.

Gru.
Nay, then I will not; you shall have the mustard,
Or else you get no beef of Grumio.

Kath.
Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.

Gru.
Why, then the mustard without the beef.

Kath.
Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, [Beats him.
That feed'st me with the very name of meat:
Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you,
That triumph thus upon my misery!
Go, get thee gone, I say. Enter Petruchio with a dish of meat; and Hortensio.

Pet.
How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort^{9 note}

Hor.
Mistress, what cheer?

Kath.
'Faith, as cold as can be.

Pet.
Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon me.

Here, love; thou see'st how diligent I am,
To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee: [Sets the dish on a table.
I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.
What, not a word? Nay then, thou lov'st it not;
And all my pains is sorted to no proof^{1 note}:—
Here, take away this dish.

Kath.
'Pray you, let it stand.

Pet.
The poorest service is repaid with thanks;
And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.

Kath.
I thank you, sir.

Hor.
Signior Petruchio, fye! you are to blame!
Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.

Pet.
Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lov'st me.— [Aside.
Much good do it unto thy gentle heart!
Kate, eat apace:—And now, my honey love,
Will we return unto thy father's house;
And revel it as bravely as the best,
With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings,
With ruffs, and cuffs, and farthingales, and things^{2 note}

What, hast thou din'd? The tailor stays thy leisure,
To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure^{3 note}

Enter Haberdasher^{5 note}

Hab.
Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.

Pet.
Why, this was moulded on a porringer^{6 note};
A velvet dish;—fye, fye! 'tis lewd and filthy:
Why, 'tis a cockle, or a walnutshell,
A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap;
Away with it, come, let me have a bigger.

Kath.
I'll have no bigger; this doth fit the time,
And gentlewomen wear such caps as these.

Pet.
When you are gentle, you shall have one too,

And not till then.

Hor.
That will not be in haste. [Aside.

Kath.
Why, sir, I trust, I may have leave to speak^{7 note};
And speak I will; I am no child, no babe:
Your betters have endur'd me say my mind;
And, if you cannot, best you stop your ears.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart;
Or else my heart, concealing it, will break:
And, rather than it shall, I will be free
Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.

Pet.
Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap,
A custard-coffin^{8 note}

Kath.
Love me, or love me not, I like the cap;

And it I will have, or I will have none.

Pet.
Thy gown? why, ay:—Come, tailor, let us see't.
O mercy, God! what masking stuff is here?
What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon:
What! up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart?
Here's snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash,
Like to a censer^{9 note}

Hor.
I see, she's like to have neither cap nor gown. [Aside.

Tai.
You bid me make it orderly and well,
According to the fashion, and the time.

Pet.
Marry, and did; but if you be remember'd,
I did not bid you mar it to the time.
Go, hop me over every kennel home,
For you shall hop without my custom, sir:
I'll none of it; hence, make your best of it.

Kath.
I never saw a better-fashion'd gown,
More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable:
Belike, you mean to make a puppet of me.

Pet.
Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee.

Tai.

She says, your worship means to make a puppet of her.

Pet.
O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest,

Thou thread, thou thimble^{1 note}

Tai.
Your worship is deceiv'd; the gown is made
Just as my master had direction:
Grumio gave order how it should be done.

Gru.
I gave him no order, I gave him the stuff.

Tai.
But how did you desire it should be made?

Gru.
Marry, sir, with needle and thread.

Tai.
But did you not request to have it cut?

Gru.
Thou hast faced many things^{3 note}

.

Tai.
I have.

Gru.

Face not me: thou hast braved many men^{4 note}; brave not me; I will neither be faced nor braved. I say unto thee,—I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces^{5 note}: ergo, thou liest.

Tai.

Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify.

Pet.

Read it.

Gru.

The note lies in his throat, if he say I said so.

Tai.

Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown:

Gru.

Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown^{6 note}

Pet.

Proceed.

Tai.

With a small compassed cape^{7 note}

Gru.

I confess the cape.

Tai.

With a trunk sleeve;—

Gru.

I confess two sleeves.

Tai.

The sleeves curiously cut.

Pet.

Ay, there's the villainy.

Gru.

Error i'the bill, sir; error i'the bill. I commanded the sleeves should be cut out, and sewed up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble.

Tai.

This is true, that I say; an I had thee in place where; thou should'st know it.

Gru.

I am for thee straight: take thou the bill^{8 note}, give me thy mete-yard^{9 note}

, and spare not me.

Hor.

God-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall have no odds.

Pet.

Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me.

Gru.

You are i'the right, sir; 'tis for my mistress.

Pet.

Go, take it up unto thy master's use.

Gru.

Villain, not for thy life: Take up my mistress' gown for thy master's use!

Pet.
Why, sir, what's your conceit in that?

Gru.
O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for:
Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use!
O, fye, fye, fye!

Pet.
Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid:— [Aside.
Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more.

Hor.
Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown to-morrow.
Take no unkindness of his hasty words:
Away, I say; commend me to thy master. [Exit Tailor.

Pet.
Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father's,
Even in these honest mean habiliments;
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor:
For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.

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?
O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse
For this poor furniture, and mean array.
If thou account'st it shame, lay it on me:
And therefore, frolick; we will hence forthwith,
To feast and sport us at thy father's house.—
Go, call my men, and let us straight to him;
And bring our horses unto Long-lane end,
There will we mount, and thither walk on foot.—
Let's see; I think, 'tis now some seven o'clock,
And well we may come there by dinner time.

Kath.
I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two;
And 'twill be supper time, ere you come there.

Pet.
It shall be seven, ere I go to horse:
Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do,
You are still crossing it.—Sirs, let't alone:
I will not go to-day; and ere I do,
It shall be what o'clock I say it is.

Hor.
Why, so! this gallant will command the sun. [Exeunt^{1 note}

2 ^note. SCENE IV Padua. Before Baptista's House. Enter Tranio, and the Pedant dressed like Vincentio.

Tra.
Sir, this is the house^{3 note}; Please it you, that I call?

Ped.
Ay, what else? and, but I be deceived^{4 note}
,
Signior Baptista may remember me,
Near twenty years ago, in Genoa,
Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus^{5 note}

Tra.
'Tis well; and hold your own, in any case,

With such austerity as 'longeth to a father. Enter Biondello.

Ped.
I warrant you: But, sir, here comes your boy;
'Twere good, he were school'd.

Tra.
Fear you not him. Sirrah, Biondello,
Now do your duty throughly, I advise you;
Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio.

Bion.
Tut! fear not me.

Tra.
But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista?

Bion.
I told him, that your father was at Venice;
And that you look'd for him this day in Padua.

Tra.
Thou'rt a tall fellow; hold thee that to drink.
Here comes Baptista:—set your countenance, sir.— Enter Baptista and Lucentio^{6 note}.
Signior Baptista, you are happily met:—
Sir, [To the Pedant,]
This is the gentleman I told you of;
I pray you, stand good father to me now,
Give me Bianca for my patrimony.

Ped.
Soft, son!—
Sir, by your leave; having come to Padua
To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio
Made me acquainted with a weighty cause
Of love between your daughter and himself:
And,—for the good report I hear of you;
And for the love he beareth to your daughter,
And she to him,—to stay him not too long,
I am content, in a good father's care,
To have him match'd; and,—if you please to like
No worse than I, sir,—upon some agreement,

Me shall you find ready and willing^{7 note}
With one consent to have her so bestow'd;
For curious I cannot be with you^{8 note},
Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well.

Bap.
Sir, pardon me in what I have to say;—,
Your plainness, and your shortness, please me well.
Right true it is, your son Lucentio here
Doth love my daughter, and she loveth him,
Or both dissemble deeply their affections:
And, therefore, if you say no more than this,
That like a father you will deal with him,
And pass my daughter a sufficient dower^{9 note},
The match is made, and all is done^{1 note}
:
Your son shall have my daughter with consent.

Tra.
I thank you, sir. Where then do you know best,
We be affied^{2 note}

; and such assurance ta'en,
As shall with either part's agreement stand?

Bap.
Not in my house, Lucentio; for, you know,
Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants:
Besides, old Gremio is heark'ning still;

And, happily, we might be interrupted^{3 note}

Tra.
Then at my lodging, an it like you, sir^{4 note}:
There doth my father lie; and there, this night,
We'll pass the business privately and well:
Send for your daughter by your servant here,
My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently.
The worst is this,—that, at so slender warning,
You're like to have a thin and slender pittance.

Bap.
It likes me well:—Cambio, hie you home,
And bid Bianca make her ready straight;
And, if you will, tell what hath happened:—
Lucentio's father is arriv'd in Padua,
And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife.

Luc.
I pray the gods she may with all my heart^{5 note}!

Tra.
Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone^{6 note}

Welcome! one mess is like to be your cheer:
Come, sir; we will better it in Pisa.

Bap.
I follow you. [Exeunt Tranio, Pedant, and Baptista.

Bion.
Cambio.—

Luc.
What say'st thou, Biondello?

Bion.

You saw my master wink and laugh upon you?

Luc.

Biondello, what of that?

Bion.

'Faith nothing; but he has left me here behind, to expound the meaning or moral^{7 note} of his signs and tokens.

Luc.

I pray thee, moralize them.

Bion.

Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking with the deceiving father of a deceitful son.

Luc.

And what of him?

Bion.

His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper.

Luc.

And then?—

Bion.

The old priest at Saint Luke's church is at your command at all hours.

Luc.

And what of all this?

Bion.

I cannot tell; expect^{8 note}

If this be not that you look for, I have no more to say,
But, bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day. [Going.

Luc.
Hear'st thou, Biondello?

Bion.

I cannot tarry: I knew a wench married in an afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley to stuff a rabbit; and so may you, sir; and so adieu, sir. My master hath appointed me to go to St. Luke's, to bid the priest be ready to come against you come with your appendix.

Luc.
I may, and will, if she be so contented:
She will be pleas'd, then wherefore should I doubt?
Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her;
It shall go hard, if Cambio go without her. [Exit^{2 note}

SCENE V. A publick Road. Enter Petruchio, Katharina, and Hortensio.

Pet.
Come on, o' God's name; once more toward our father's.
Good lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon!

Kath.
The moon! the sun; it is not moonlight now.

Pet.
I say, it is the moon that shines so bright.

Kath.
I know, it is the sun that shines so bright!

Pet.
Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself,
It shall be moon, or star, or what I list,
Or ere I journey to your father's house:—
Go on, and fetch our horses back again.—
Evermore cross'd, and cross'd; nothing but cross'd!

Hor.
Say as he says, or we shall never go.

Kath.
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.

Pet.
I say, it is the moon.

Kath.
I know it is the moon^{3 note}

Pet.
Nay, then you lie; it is the blessed sun^{4 note}.

Kath.
Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun:—
But sun it is not, when you say it is not;
And the moon changes, even as your mind.
What you will have it nam'd, even that it is;
And so, it shall be so^{5 note}

Hor.
Petruchio, go thy ways; the field is won.

Pet.
Well, forward, forward: thus the bowl should run,
And not unluckily against the bias.—
But soft; what company is coming here^{6 note}

Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman?
Such war of white and red within her cheeks!
What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty,
As those two eyes become that heavenly face?—
Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee:—
Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake.

Hor.

'A will make the man mad, to make a woman^{8 note} of him.

Kath.
Young budding virgin, fair, and fresh, and sweet,
Whither away; or where is thy abode^{9 note}?
Happy the parents of so fair a child;
Happier the man, whom favourable stars
Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow^{1 note}











!

Pet.
Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art not mad:
This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd;
And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is.

Kath.
Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,
That have been so bedazzled with the sun,
That every thing I look on seemeth green^{2 note}:
Now I perceive, thou art a reverend father;
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.

Pet.
Do, good old grandsire; and, withal, make known
Which way thou travelest: if along with us,
We shall be joyful of thy company.

Vin.
Fair sir,—and you my merry mistress^{3 note},—
That with your strange encounter much amaz'd me;
My name is call'd—Vincentio; my dwelling—Pisa;
And bound I am to Padua; there to visit

A son of mine, which long I have not seen.

Pet.
What is his name?

Vin.
Lucentio, gentle sir.

Pet.
Happily met; the happier for thy son.
And now by law, as well as reverend age,
I may entitle thee—my loving father;
The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman,
Thy son by this hath married: Wonder not,
Nor be not griev'd: she is of good esteem,
Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth;
Beside, so qualified as may beseem
The spouse of any noble gentleman.
Let me embrace with old Vincentio:
And wander we to see thy honest son,
Who will of thy arrival be full joyous.

Vin.
But is this true? or is it else your pleasure,
Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest
Upon the company you overtake?

Hor.
I do assure thee, father, so it is.

Pet.
Come, go along, and see the truth hereof;
For our first merriment hath made thee jealous. Exeunt Petruchio, Katharina, and Vincentio.

Hor.
Well, Petruchio, this hath put me in heart.
Have to my widow; and if she be forward,
Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward. [Exit.

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