Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry:
Take that, and mend the plucking off the other.— [Strikes him.
Be merry, Kate:—Some water, here; what ho!— Enter one with water.
Where's my spaniel Troilus?—Sirrah, get you hence,
^{6 note}And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither:—
One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be acquainted with.—
Where are my slippers?—Shall I have some water?—
Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily:—
You, whoreson villain! will you let it fall?

Kath.
Patience, I pray you; 'twas a fault unwilling.

Pet.
A whoreson, beetle-headed, flap-ear'd knave!
Come, Kate, sit down; I know, you have a stomach.
Will you give thanks, sweet Kate; or else shall I?—
What's this? mutton?

1 Ser.
Ay.

Pet.
Who brought it?

Ser.
I.

Pet.
'Tis burnt; and so is all the meat:
What dogs are these?—Where is the rascal cook?
How durst you, villains, bring it from the dresser,
And serve it thus to me that love it not?
There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all: [Throws the meat, &c. about the stage.
You heedless jolt-heads, and unmanner'd slaves!
What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight.

Kath.
I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet;
The meat was well, if you were so contented.

Pet.
I tell thee Kate, 'twas burnt, and dry'd away;
And I expressly am forbid to touch it,
For it engenders choler, planteth anger;
And better 'twere, that both of us did fast,—
Since, of ourselves, ourselves are cholerick,—
Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh.
Be patient; to-morrow it shall be mended,
And, for this night, we'll fast for company:—
Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. [Exeunt. Enter Servants severally.

Nath.
Peter, didst ever see the like?

Peter.
He kills her in her own humour. Re-enter Curtis.

Gru.
Where is he?

Curt.
In her chamber,
Making a sermon of continency to her:
And rails, and swears, and rates; that she, poor soul,
Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak;
And sits as one new-risen from a dream.
Away, away! for he is coming hither. [Exeunt. Re-enter Petruchio.

Pet.
Thus have I politickly begun my reign,
And 'tis my hope to end successfully:
My faulcon now is sharp, and passing empty;
And, 'till she stoop, she must not be full-gorg'd^{7 note}

For then she never looks upon her lure.
Another way I have to man my haggard^{8 note}

SCENE II. Before Baptista's house. Enter Tranio, and Hortensio.

Tra.
Is't possible, friend Licio, that mistress Bianca^{2 note}
Doth fancy any other but Lucentio?
I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand.

Hor.
Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said,
Stand by, and mark the manner of his teaching. [They stand by. Enter Bianca, and Lucentio.

Luc.
Now, mistress, profit you in what you read?

Bian.
What, master, read you? first, resolve me that.

Luc.
I read that I profess, the art to love.

Bian.
And may you prove, sir, master of your art!

Luc.
While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart. [They retire backward.

Hor.
Quick proceeders, marry! Now, tell me, I pray,
You that durst swear that your mistress Bianca
Lov'd none in the world so well as Lucentio.

Tra.
O despightful love! unconstant womankind!—
I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful.

Hor.
Mistake no more: I am not Licio,
Nor a musician, as I seem to be;
But one that scorn to live in this disguise,
For such a one as leaves a gentleman,
And makes a god of such a cullion:
Know, sir, that I am call'd—Hortensio.

Tra.
Signior Hortensio, I have often heard
Of your entire affection to Bianca;
And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness,
I will with you,—if you be so contented,—
Forswear Bianca and her love for ever.

Hor.
See, how they kiss and court!—Signior Lucentio,
Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow—
Never to woo her more; but do forswear her,
As one unworthy all the former favours
That I have fondly flatter'd her withal.

Tra.
And here I take the like unfeigned oath,—
Never to marry her, though she would intreat:
Fye on her! see, how beastly she doth court him.

Hor.
'Would all the world, but he, had quite forsworn!
For me,—that I may surely keep mine oath,
I will be marry'd to a wealthy widow,
Ere three days pass; which hath as long lov'd me,
As I have lov'd this proud disdainful haggard:
And so farewel, signior Lucentio.—
Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks,

Shall win my love:—and so I take my leave,
In resolution as I swore before. [Exit Hortensio.

Tra.
Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace
As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case!
Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love;
And have forsworn you, with Hortensio. [Lucentio and Bianca come forward.

Bian.
Tranio, you jest; But have you both forsworn me?

Tra.
Mistress, we have.

Luc.
Then we are rid of Licio.

Tra.
I'faith, he'll have a lusty widow now,
That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day.

Bian.
God give him joy!

Tra.
Ay, and he'll tame her^{3 note}




.

Bian.
He says so, Tranio.

Tra.
'Faith he is gone unto the taming school.

Bian.
The taming school! what, is there such a place?

Tra.
Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the master;
That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long,—
To tame a shrew, and charm her chattering tongue^{4 note}
. Enter Biondello, running.

Bion.
Oh master, master, I have watch'd so long
That I'm dog-weary; but at last I spied

^{5 note}

Tra.
What is he, Biondello?

Bion.
Master, a mercatantè^{6 note}

Luc.
And what of him, Tranio?

Tra.
If he be credulous, and trust my tale,

I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio;
And give assurance to Baptista Minola,
As if he were the right Vincentio.
Take in your love, and then let me alone. [Exeunt Lucentio, and Bianca. Enter a Pedant.

Ped.
God save you, sir!

Tra.
And you, sir! you are welcome.
Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest?

Ped.
Sir, at the farthest for a week or two:
But then up farther; and as far as Rome;
And so to Tripoly, if God lend me life.

Tra.
What countryman, I pray?

Ped.
Of Mantua.

Tra.
Of Mantua, sir?—marry, God forbid!
And come to Padua, careless of your life?

Ped.
My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard.

Tra.
'Tis death for any one in Mantua^{8 note}


To come to Padua; Know you not the cause?
Your ships are staid at Venice; and the duke
(For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him)
Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly:
'Tis marvel; but that you're but newly come,
You might have heard it else proclaim'd about.

Ped.
Alas, sir, it is worse for me than so;
For I have bills for money by exchange
From Florence, and must here deliver them.

Tra.
Well, sir, to do you courtesy,
This will I do, and this will I advise you;—
First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa?

Ped.
Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been;
Pisa, renowned for grave citizens.

Tra.
Among them, know you one Vincentio?

Ped.
I know him not, but I have heard of him;
A merchant of incomparable wealth.

Tra.
He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say,
In countenance somewhat doth resemble you.

Bion.
As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all one. [Aside.

Tra.
To save your life in this extremity,
This favour will I do you for his sake;
And think it not the worst of all your fortunes,
That you are like to sir Vincentio.
His name and credit shall you undertake,
And in my house you shall be friendly lodg'd;—
Look that you take upon you as you should;
You understand me, sir;—so shall you stay
'Till you have done your business in the city:
If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it.

Ped.
Oh, sir, I do; and will repute you ever
The patron of my life and liberty.

Tra.
Then go with me, to make the matter good,
This, by the way, I let you understand;—
My father is here look'd for every day,
To pass assurance^{9 note} of a dower in marriage
'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here:
In all these circumstances I'll instruct you:
^{1 note}Go with me, sir, to cloath you as becomes you. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. Enter Katharine, and Grumio^{2 note}

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,
Nor never needed that I should 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 pry'thee 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 phlegmatick a meat:— 9Q0391
How say you to a fat tripe, finely broil'd?

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.

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 and Hortensio, with meat.

Pet.
How fares my Kate? What sweeting, all amort^{3 note}

Hor.
Mistress, what cheer?

Kath.
'Faith, as cold as can be.

Pet.
Pluck up thy spirits, look chearfully upon me.
Here, love; thou see'st how diligent I am,
To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee:
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^{4 note}:—
Here, take away this dish.

Kath,
I 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 ^{5 note}

Enter Haberdasher^{6 note}

Hab.
Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.

Pet.
Why, this was moulded on a porringer^{7 note};
A velvet dish;—fye, fye! 'tis lewd and filthy:
Why, 'tis a cockle, or a walnut-shell,
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.
^{8 note}Why, sir, I trust, I may have leave to speak;
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^{9 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, taylor, 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 ^{1 note}censer in a barber's shop:—

Why, what, o' devil's name, taylor, call'st thou this?

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

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

Pet.
Marry, and did; but if you be remembred,
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.

Tay.

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

Pet.
Oh monstrous arrogance!
Thou lyest, thou thread, thou thimble^{3 note},
Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail,
Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter cricket thou:—
Brav'd in mine own house with a skein of thread!
Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant;
Or I shall so be-mete thee^{4 note} with thy yard,
As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv'st!
I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.

Tay.
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.

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

Gru.
Marry, sir, with needle and thread.

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

Gru.
Thou hast fac'd many things^{5 note}

.

Tay.
I have.

Gru.

Face not me: thou hast brav'd many men^{6 note}; brave not me; I will neither be fac'd, nor brav'd. I say unto thee,—I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces: ergo, thou liest.

Tay.

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.

Tay.

Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown:

Gru.

Master, if ever I said loose-body'd gown^{7 note}, sow me up in the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom of brown thread: I said, a gown.

Pet.

Proceed.

Tay.

With a small compass'd cape^{8 note}

Gru.

I confess the cape.

Tay.

With a trunk sleeve;—

Gru.

I confess two sleeves.

Tay.

The sleeves curiously cut.

Pet.

Ay, there's the villany.

Gru.

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

Tay.

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

Gru.

I am for thee straight: take thou the bill^{9 note}, give me thy^{1 note}

mete-yard, 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.
Oh, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for:
Take up my mistress' gown unto his master's use!
Oh, fye, fye, fye!

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

Hor.
Taylor, 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 Taylor.

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?
Oh, 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. [Exit Petruchio, Katharine, and Hortensio^{2 note}

3 ^noteSCENE IV.

Before Baptista's house. Enter Tranio, and the Pedant dressed like Vincentio.

Tra.
Sir, this is the house; Please it you, that I call?

Ped.
Ay, what else? and, but I be deceiv'd,
Signior Baptista may remember me,
Near twenty years ago, in Genoa,
Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus^{4 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 thoroughly, 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 in 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.
Signior Baptista, you are happily met:
Sir, 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
With one consent to have her so bestow'd:
For curious I cannot be with you^{5 note},
Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well.

Bap.
Sir, pardon me in what I have 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,
The match is made, and all is done:
Your son shall have my daughter with consent.

Tra.
I thank you, sir. ^{6 note}

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^{7 note}

Tra.
Then at my lodging, an it like you, sir:
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! [Exit^{8 note}.

Tra.
Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone.
Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way?
Welcome! one mess is like to be your cheer:
Come, sir; we will better it in Pisa.

Bap.

I follow you.

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 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^{9 note}

a counterfeit assurance; take you assurance of her, cum privilegio ad imprimendum solùm: to the church take the priest, clerk, and some sufficient honest witnesses:

Luc.

Hear'st thou, Biondello?

Bion.

I cannot tarry: I knew a wench married in an afternoon as she went to the garden for parsly to stuff a rabbet; and so may you, sir; and so adieu, sir. My master hath appointed me to go to saint 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.^{1 note}

SCENE V. A green lane. Enter Petruchio, Katharine, 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 moon-light 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 crost, and crost; nothing but crost!

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

Kath.
Forward I pray, since we are 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.

Pet.
Nay, then you lye; it is the blessed sun.

Kath.
Then, God be blest, 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, for Katharine.

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; company is coming here. Enter Vincentio.
Good-morrow, gentle mistress: Where away?— [To Vincentio.
^{1 note}

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 of him.

Kath.
Young budding virgin, fair, and fresh, and sweet,
Whither away; or where is thy abode?
Happy the parents of so fair a child;
Happier the man, whom favourable stars
Allot thee for his lovely bedfellow!

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: 9Q0392
Now I perceive, thou art a reverend father;
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.

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

Vin.
Fair sir,—and you my merry mistress,—
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 marry'd:—Wonder not,

Nor be not griev'd; she is of good esteem,
Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth;
Beside, so qualify'd 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, Katharine, and Vincentio.

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

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