Luc.
At last, tho' long, our jarring notes agree;
And time it is, when raging war is done,
To smile at 'scapes and perils over-blown.
My fair Bianca, bid my Father welcome,
While I with self-same kindness welcome thine;
Brother Petruchio, Sister Catharine,

And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving Widow;
Feast with the best, and welcome to my house,
My banquet is to close our stomachs up
After our great good cheer: pray you, sit down;
For now we sit to chat, as well as eat.

Pet.
Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat!

Bap.
Padua affords this kindness, Son Petruchio.

Pet.
Padua affords nothing but what is kind.

Hor.
For both our sakes, I would that word were true.

Pet.
(25) ^note
Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his Widow.

Wid.
Then never trust me, if I be afeard.

Pet.
You are very sensible, and yet you miss my sense:
I mean, Hortensio is afeard of you.

Wid.
He, that is giddy, thinks, the world turns round.

Pet.
Roundly replied.

Cath.
Mistress, how mean you that?

Wid.
Thus I conceive by him.

Pet.
Conceives by me, how likes Hortensio that?

Hor.
My widow says, thus she conceives her tale.

Pet.
Very well mended; kiss him for that, good Widow.

Cath.
He, that is giddy, thinks, the world turns round—
I pray you, tell me what you meant by that.

Wid.
Your Husband, being troubled with a Shrew,
Measures my Husband's sorrow by his woe;
And now you know my meaning.

Cath.
A very mean meaning.

Wid.
Right, I mean you.

Cath.
And I am mean, indeed, respecting you.

Pet.
To her, Kate.

Hor.
To her, Widow.

Pet.
A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down.

Hor.
That's my office.

Pet.
Spoke like an Officer; ha', to thee, lad. [Drinks to Hortensio.

Bap.
How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks?

Gre.
Believe me, Sir, they butt heads together well.

Bian.
Head and butt? an hasty-witted body
Would say, your head and butt were head and horn.

Vin.
Ay, mistress Bride, hath that awaken'd you?

Bian.
Ay, but not frighted me, therefore I'll sleep again.

Pet.
Nay, that thou shalt not, since you have begun:
Have at you for a better jest or two.

Bian.
Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush:
And then pursue me, as you draw your bow.
You are welcome all. [Exeunt Bianca, Catharine, and Widow.

Pet.
She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio,
This bird you aim'd at, tho' you hit it not;
Therefore, a health to all that shot and miss'd.

Tra.
Oh, Sir, Lucentio slip'd me like his gray-hound,
Which runs himself, and catches for his master.

Pet.
A good swift Simile, but something currish.

Tra.
'Tis well, Sir, that you hunted for your self:
'Tis thought, your deer does hold you at a bay.

Bap.
Oh, oh, Petruchio, Tranio hits you now.

Luc.
I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio.

Hor.
Confess, confess, hath he not hit you there?

Pet.
He has a little gall'd me, I confess;
And as the jest did glance away from me,
'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright.

Bap.
Now, in good sadness, Son Petruchio,
I think, thou hast the veriest Shrew of all.

Pet.
Well, I say, no; and therefore for assurance,
Let's each one send unto his Wife, and he
Whose Wife is most obedient to come first,
When he doth send for her, shall win the wager.

Hor.
Content;—what wager?

Luc.
Twenty crowns.

Pet.
Twenty crowns!
I'll venture so much on my hawk or hound,
But twenty times so much upon my Wife.

Luc.
A hundred then.

Hor.
Content.

Pet.
A match, 'tis done.

Hor.
Who shall begin?

Luc.
That will I.
Go, Biondello, bid your Mistress come to me.

Bion.
I go. [Exit.

Bap.
Son, I'll be your half, Bianca comes.

Luc.
I'll have no halves: I'll bear it all my self. Re-enter Biondello.
How now, what news?

Bion.
Sir, my Mistress sends you word
That she is busie, and cannot come.

Pet.
How? she's busie and cannot come: is that an answer?

Gre.
Ay, and a kind one too:
Pray God, Sir, your wife send you not a worse.

Pet.
I hope better.

Hor.

Sirrah, Biondello, go and intreat my wife to come to me forthwith.

Pet.
Oh, ho! intreat her! nay, then she needs must come.

Hor.
I am afraid, Sir, do you what you can, Enter Biondello.
Yours will not be intreated: now, where's my wife?

Bion.
She says, you have some goodly jest in hand;
She will not come: she bids you come to her.

Pet.
Worse and worse, she will not come!
Oh vile, intolerable, not to be indur'd:
Sirrah, Grumio, go to your Mistress,
Say, I command her to come to me. [Exit Gru.

Hor.
I know her answer.

Pet.
What?

Hor.
She will not.

Pet.
The fouler fortune mine, and there's an end. Enter Catharina.

Bap.
Now, by my hollidam, here comes Catharine!

Cath.
What is your will, Sir, that you send for me?

Pet.
Where is your Sister, and Hortensio's Wife?

Cath.
They sit conferring by the parlour fire.

Pet.
Go fetch them hither; if they deny to come,
Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands:
Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. [Exit Catharina.

Luc.
Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.

Hor.
And so it is: I wonder, what it boads.

Pet.
Marry, peace it boads, and love, and quiet life,
And awful rule, and right supremacy:
And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy.

Bap.
Now fair befal thee, good Petruchio!
The wager thou hast won; and I will add
Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns,
Another dowry to another Daughter;
For she is chang'd, as she had never been.

Pet.
Nay, I will win my wager better yet,
And show more sign of her obedience,
Her new-built virtue and obedience. Enter Catharina, Bianca and Widow.
See, where she comes, and brings your froward wives
As prisoners to her womanly persuasion:
Catharine, that Cap of yours becomes you not;
Off with that bauble, throw it under foot. [She pulls off her cap, and throws it down.

Wid.
Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh,
'Till I be brought to such a silly pass.

Bian.
Fie, what a foolish duty call you this?

Luc.
I would, your duty were as foolish too!
The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca,
Cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time.

Bian.
The more fool you, for laying on my duty.

Pet.
Catharine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong Women,
What duty they owe to their Lords and Husbands.

Wid.
Come, come, you're mocking; we will have no telling.

Pet.
Come on, I say, and first begin with her.

Wid.
She shall not.

Pet.
I say, she shall; and first begin with her.

Cath.
Fie! fie! unknit that threatning unkind brow,
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
To wound thy Lord, thy King, thy Governor.
It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads;
Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds;
And in no sense is meet or amiable.
A Woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty;
And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will dain to sip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy Husband is thy Lord, thy Life, thy Keeper,
Thy Head, thy Soveraign; one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance: commits his body
To painful labour, both by sea and land;
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
While thou ly'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's froward, peevish, sullen, sower,
And not obedient to his honest will;
What is she but a foul contending Rebel,
And graceless Traitor to her loving Lord?

I am asham'd, 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.
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 launces are but straws,
Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare;
That seeming to be most, which we indeed least are.
(26) ^noteThen vale 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.

Pet.
Why, there's a wench: come on, and kiss me, Kate.

Luc.
Well, go thy ways, old lad, for thou shalt ha't.

Vin.
'Tis a good hearing, when children are toward.

Luc.
But a harsh hearing, when women are froward.

Pet.
Come, Kate, we'll to bed;
(27) ^noteWe three are married, but you two are sped.
'Twas I won the wager, tho' you hit the white;
And being a winner, God give you good night. [Exeunt Petruchio and Catharina.

Hor.
Now go thy ways, thou hast tam'd a curst Shrew.

Luc.
'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tam'd so. [Exeunt omnes. Enter two servants bearing Sly in his own apparel, and leave him on the Stage. Then enter a Tapster. Sly awaking.]

Sim, give's some more wine—what, all the Players gone? am not I a Lord?