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I mean, Hortensio is afeard of

you. Wid. He that is giddy thinks the world turns round. Pet. Roundly replied. Kath.

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. Kath. 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:

Kath. A very mean meaning.
Wid.

Right, I mean you.
Kath. 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 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 you shall 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,

3 Have at you for a BETTER jest or two.) So the old copies ; but Capell suggested “bitter jest or two," and he has been usually followed. Petruchio means “ a better jest or two” than Bianca's last, about “head and horn."

And then pursue me as you draw your bow.-
You are welcome all.

[Exeunt Bianca, KATHARINA, and Widow. Pet. She hath prevented me.—Here, signior Tranio; This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not: Therefore, a health to all that shot and miss'd.

Tra. O sir! Lucentio slipp'd me, like his greyhound, Which runs himself, and catches for his master.

Pet. A good swift simile, but something currish.

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

Bap. O ho, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now.
Luc. I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio.
Hor. Confess, confess, hath he not hit you here?

Pet. A 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 at first when he doth send for her,
Shall win the wager which we will propose.

Hor. Content. What is the wager?
Luc.

Twenty crowns.
Pet. Twenty crowns !
I'll venture so much of 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?

For assurance,] Instead of “for,” the folio of 1623 has sir. Corrected by the editor of the folio of 1632.

5 l’ll venture so much of my hawk, or hound,] So all the old copies. The modern editors, objecting to Shakespeare's phraseology, have uniforınly represented him to have written “on my hawk, or hound.” See p. 165, note 6.

Luc.

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

[Exit. Bap. Son, I will be your half, Bianca comes. Luc. I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself.

Bion. I go.

Re-enter BIONDELLO.

How now! what news?
Bion.

Sir, my mistress sends you word, That she is busy, and she cannot come.

Pet. How! she is busy, and she 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 entreat my wife To come to me forthwith.

[Exit BIONDELLO. Pet.

O ho! entreat her! Nay, then she must needs come. Hor.

I am afraid, sir, Do what you can, yours will not be entreated.

Re-enter BIONDELLO. 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? O vile ! Intolerable, not to be endur'd ! Sirrah, Grumio, go to your mistress ; say, I command her come to me.

[Exit GRUMIO. Hor. I know her answer. Pet. What? Hor. She will not. Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.

Enter KATHARINA. Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katharina! Kath. What is your will, sir, that you send for me? Pet. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife? Kath. 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 KATHARINA. Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. Ilor. And so it is. I wonder what it bodes.

Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life,
An 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.

Re-enter KATHARINA, with BIANCA and Widow. See, where she comes, and brings your froward wives As prisoners to her womanly persuasion.Katharine, that cap of yours becomes you not; Off with that bauble, throw it under foot.

[KATHARINA pulls off her cap, and throws it

doun. 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, Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time.

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

6

An hundred crowns-] Old copies, “ five hundred.” Corrected by Pope.

Pet. Katharine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong

women

What duty they do owe 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.

Kath. Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow,
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor :
It blots thy beauty, as frosts do 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 deign to sip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; 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,
Whilst thou liest 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, sour,
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.

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