"fhall die in oblivion, and thou return unexperienc'd "to thy grave."

Curt. By this reckoning he is more fhrew than fhe. Gru. Ay, and that thou and the proudest of you all fhall find, when he comes home. But what talk I of this? call forth Nathaniel, Jofeph, Nicholas, Philip, Walter, Sugarfop, and the reft: let their heads be fleekly comb'd, their blue coats brufh'd, and their garters of an indifferent knit; let them curt'fie with their left legs, and not prefume to touch a hair of my master's horse-tail, 'till they kiss their hands. Are they all ready?

Curt. They are.

Gru. Call them forth.

you hear, ho?

Curt. Do you

to countenance my mistress.

you must meet my mafter

Gru. Why, the hath a face of her own.

Gurt. Who knows not that?

Gru. Thou, it feems, that call'ft for company to countenance her.

Curt. I call them forth to credit her.

Enter four or five Serving-men.

Gru. Why, fhe comes to borrow nothing of them.
Nat. Welcome home, Grumio.

Phil. How now, Grumio?

Jof. What, Grumio!

Nich. Fellow Grumio!

Nath. How now, old lad.

Gru. "Welcome, you; how now, you; what, you; fellow, you; and thus much for greeting." Now my fpruce companions, is all ready, and all things neat?

Nat. All things are ready; how near is our mafter? Gru. E'en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore be not cock's paffion, filence! hear my master.

.I

SCENE

Pet. Where be these knaves? what, no man at door to hold my stirrup, nor to take my horfe? where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip?

All Serv. Here, here, Sir; here, Sir.

Pet. Here, Sir, here, Sir, here, Sir, here, Sir? You loggerheaded and unpolifh'd grooms: What? no attendance? no regard? no duty? Where is the foolish knave I fent before? Gru. Here, Sir, as foolish as I was before. Pet. You peasant swain, you whoreson, malt-horse drudge,

Did not I bid thee meet me in the park,

And bring along these rascal knaves with thee?

Gru. Nathaniel's coat, Sir, was not fully made: And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' th' heel: There was no link to colour Peter's hat,

And Walter's dagger was not come from fheathing:
There were none fine, but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory;
The reft were ragged, old and beggarly,

Yet as they are, here are they come to meet you.
Pet. Go, rafcals, go, and fetch my supper in.

Where is the life that late I led?

Where are thofe

[Exeunt Servants.

fit down, Kate,

And welcome. Soud, foud, foud, foud!

Enter Servants with Supper.

[Singing.

Why, when, I say? nay, good sweet Kate, be merry.
Off with my boots, you rogue: you villains, when?

It was the Friar of Orders grey,
As be forth walked on bis way.

Out, out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry.

[Sings.

Take

Take that, and mind the plucking off the other.

[Strikes bim.

Be merry, Kate: fome water, here; what, hoa!

Enter one with water.

Where's my spaniel Troilus? firrah, get you hence,
And bid my coufin Ferdinand come hither:

One, Kate, that you must kifs, and be acquainted with.
Where are my flippers? fhall I have fome water?
Come, Kate, and wafh, and welcome heartily:
You, whorefon villain, will you let it fall?

Cath. Patience, I pray you, 'twas a fault unwilling. Pet. A whorefon, beatle-headed, flap-ear'd knave: Come, Kate, fit down; I know, you have a stomach. Will you give thanks, fweet Kate, or else fhall I? What's this, mutton?

I Ser. Yes.

Pet. Who brought it?
Ser. I.

Pet. 'Tis burnt, and fo is all the meat:
What dogs are these? where is the rascal cook?
How durft you, villains, bring it from the dreffer,
And ferve 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 heedlefs jolt-heads, and unmanner'd slaves!
What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight.
Cath. 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 exprefly am forbid to touch it:
For it engenders choler, planteth anger;
And better 'twere, that Both of us did fast,
Since, of our felves, our felves are cholerick,
Than feed it with fuch over-roafted flesh:
Be patient, for to morrow't fhall be mended,
And for this night we'll faft for company.

Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. [Exe.
VOL. II.

G g

Enter

Enter Servants feverally.

Nath. Peter, didft ever fee the like?
Peter. He kills her in her own humour.
Gru. Where is he?

Enter Curtis, a Servant.

Curt. In her chamber, making a fermon of continency to her,

And rails and fwears, and rates; that fhe, poor foul, Knows not which way to ftand, to look, to speak, And fits as one new-rifen from a dream.

Away, away, for he is coming hither.

S CE N E III.

Enter Petruchio.

[Exeunt.

Pet. Thus have I politickly begun my reign,
And 'tis my hope to end fuccefsfully:
My faulcon now is fharp, and paffing empty,
And till she stoop, fhe muft not be full-gorg'd,
For then she never looks upon her lure.
Another way I have to man my haggard,

To make her come, and know her keeper's Call:
That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites,
That bait and beat, and will not be obedient.
She eat no meat to day, nor none fhall eat.
Laft night the flept not, nor to night shall not:
As with the meat, fome undeferved fault
I'll find about the making of the bed.

And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster,
This way the coverlet, that way the sheets;
Ay; and, amid this hurly, I'll pretend,
That all is done in reverend care of her,
And, in conclufion, fhe fhall watch all night:
And, if the chance to nod, I'll rail and brawl,
And with the clamour keep her still awake.

;

This is a way to kill a wife with kindness
And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour.
He that knows better how to tame a Shrew,
Now let him speak, 'tis charity to fhew.

S

CENE

Before Baptifta's Houfe.

Enter Tranio and Hortenfio.

TRANIO.

IV.

[Exit.

S't poffible, friend Licio, that Bianca Doth fancy any other but Lucentio? I tell you, Sir, fhe bears me fair in hand. Hor. To fatisfy you, Sir, in what I 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, mafter, read you? firft, refolve me
that.

Luc. I read That I profefs, the art of Love.
Bian. And may you prove, Sir, mafter of your art!
Luc. While you, fweet dear, prove mistress of my
[They retire backward.

heart. Hor. Quick proceeders! marry! now, tell me, I pray, you that durft fwear that your miftrefs Bianca lov'd none in the world fo well as Lucentio.

Tra. Defpightful love, unconftant womankind!
I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful.

Hor. Miftake no more, I am not Licio,
Nor a musician, as I feem to be;
But One that scorn to live in this difguife
For fuch a One as leaves a gentleman,