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.
&wlquo;It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads;
&wlquo;Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds;
&wlquo;And in no sense is meet or amiable.
&wlquo;A Woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled,
&wlquo;Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty;

&wlquo;And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
&wlquo;Will dain to sip, or touch one drop of it.
&wlquo;Thy Husband is thy Lord, thy Life, thy Keeper,
&wlquo;Thy Head, thy Sovereign; one that cares for thee,
&wlquo;And for thy maintenance: commits his body
&wlquo;To painful labour, both by sea and land;
&wlquo;To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
&wlquo;While thou ly'st warm at home, secure and safe,
&wlquo;And craves no other tribute at thy hands,
&wlquo;But love, fair looks, and true obedience;
&wlquo;Too little payment for so great a debt.
&wlquo;Such duty as the Subject owes the Prince,
&wlquo;Even such a woman oweth to her husband:
&wlquo;And when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sower,
&wlquo;And not obedient to his honest will;
&wlquo;What is she but a foul contending Rebel,
&wlquo;And graceless Traitor to her loving Lord?
&wlquo;I am asham'd, that Women are so simple
&wlquo;To offer war where they should kneel for peace;
&wlquo;Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,
&wlquo;When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.
&wlquo;Why are our bodies soft, and weak and smooth,
&wlquo;Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
&wlquo;But that our soft conditions and our hearts
&wlquo;Should well agree with our external parts?&wrquo;
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.
Then 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;
We 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 leaving 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?

Tap.

A Lord, with a murrain! come, art thou drunk still?

Sly.

Who's this? Tapster! oh, I have had the bravest dream that ever thou heardst in all thy life.

Tap.

Yea, marry, but thou hadst best get thee home, for your Wife will course you for dreaming here all night.

Sly.

Will she? I know how to tame a Shrew. I dreamt upon it all this night, and thou hast wak'd me out of the best dream that ever I had. But I'll to my Wife and tame her too, if she anger me.