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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
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SCENE V. Enter Baptista, Gremio, and Tranio.

Bap.
Now, signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?

Pet.
How but well, Sir? how but well?
It were impossible, I should speed amiss.

Bap.
Why, how now, daughter Catharine, in your dumps?

Cath.
Call you me daughter? now, I promise you,
You've shew'd a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one half lunatick;
A madcap ruffian, and a swearing Jack,
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.

Pet.
Father, 'tis thus; yourself and all the World,
That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her;
If she be curst, it is for policy,

-- 428 --


For she's not froward, but modest as the dove:
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;
For patience, she will prove a second Grissel;
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity.
And to conclude, we've 'greed so well together,
That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.

Cath.
I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first.

Gre.
Hark: Petruchio! she says, she'll see thee hang'd first.

Tra.
Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night, our part!

Pet.
Be patient, Sirs, I chuse her for my self;
If she and I be pleas'd, what's that to you?
'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
That she shall still be curst in company.
I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe
How much she loves me; oh, the kindest Kate!—
She hung about my neck, and kiss on kiss
She vy'd so fast, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twink she won me to her love.
Oh, you are novices; 'tis a world to see,
How tame (when men and women are alone)
A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.
Give me thy hand, Kate, I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day;
Father, provide the feast, and bid the guests;
I will be sure, my Catharine shall be fine.

Bap.
I know not what to say, but give your hands;
God send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match.

Gre. Tra.
Amen, say we; we will be witnesses.

Pet.
Father, and wife, and Gentlemen, adieu;
I will to Venice, Sunday comes apace,
We will have rings and things, and fine array;
And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o' Sunday.
[Exeunt Petruchio, and Catharine severally.

-- 429 --

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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
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