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What Tranio did, myself enforc'd him to;
Then pardon him, sweet Father, for my fake.

Vin. I'll flit the villain's nofe, that would have fent me to the jail.

Bap. But do you hear, Sir, have you married my Daughter without asking my good-will?

Vin. Fear not, Baptifta, we will content you, go to; but I will in, to be reveng'd on this villain,

[Exit.

Bap. And I, to found the depth of this knavery.

[Exit.

[Exeunt.

Luc. Look not pale, Bianca, thy Father will not frown. Gre. My cake is dough, but I'll in among the reft, Out of hope of all, but my fhare of the feaft. [Exit. [Petruchio and Catharina, advancing. Cath. Husband, let's follow, to fee the end of this ado.

Pet. First kiss me, Kate, and we will.
Cath. What, in the midst of the street?
Pet. What, art thou asham'd of me?

Cath. No, Sir, God forbid! but asham'd to kiss. Pet. Why, then let's home again: come, firrah, let's away.

Cath. Nay, I will give thee a kifs; now pray thee,

love, ftay.

Pet. Is not this well? come, my sweet Kate; Better once than never, for never too late.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

S C CENE IV.

Changes to Lucentio's Apartments.

Enter Baptifta, Vincentio, Gremio, Pedant, Lucentio, Bianca, Tranio, Biondello, Petruchio, Catharina, Grumio, Hortenfio, and Widow. Tranio's fervants bringing in a banquet.

Luc. AT laft, tho' long, our jarring notes agree;
And time it is, when raging war is done,

To fmile at 'scapes and perils over-blown.
My fair Bianca, bid my Father welcome,
While I with felf-fame kindness welcome thine;
Brother Petruchio, Sifter Catharine,

And thou, Hortenfio, with thy loving Widow;
Feast with the best, and welcome to my house:
My banquet is to close our stomachs up

After our great good cheer: pray you, fit down;
For now we fit to chat, as well as eat.

Pet. Nothing but fit and fit, and eat and eat!
Bap. Padua affords this kindness, Son Petruchio.
Pet. Padua affords nothing but what is kind.
Hor. For both our fakes, I would that word were
true.

Pet. Now, for my life, Hortenfio fears his Widow.
Wid. Then never truft me, if I be afeard.

Pet. You are very fenfible, and yet you mifs my
fense:

I mean, Hortenfio is afeard of you.

Wid. He, that is giddy, thinks, the world turns round.

Pet. Roundly replied.

Cath. Miftrefs, how mean you that?

Wid. Thus I conceive by him.

Pet. Conceives by me, how likes Hortenfio that?

Hor.

Hor. My widow fays, thus fhe conceives her tale.
Pet. Very well mended; kiss him for that, good
Widow.

Cath. 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 forrow by his woe. And now you know my meaning.

Cath. A very mean meaning.

Wid. Right, I mean you.

Cath. 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 Hortenfio. Bap. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks? Gre. Believe me, Sir, they butt heads together well, Bian. Head and butt? an hafty-witted body Would fay, your head and butt were head and horn. Vin. Ay, miftrefs Bride, hath that awaken'd you? Bian. Ay, but not frighted me, therefore I'll fleep again.

Pet. Nay, that thou shalt not, fince you have begun : Have at you for a better jeft or two.

Bian. Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush: And then purfue me, as you draw your bow.

You are welcome all.

[Exeunt Bianca, Catharine, and Widow.
Pet. She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio,
This bird you aim'd at, tho' you hit it not;
Therefore, a health to all that shot and mifs'd.
Tra. Oh, Sir, Lucentio flip'd me like his grey-hound,
Which runs himself, and catches for his mafter.
Pet. A good fwift Simile, but fomething currish.

Tra.

1

Tra. 'Tis well, Sir, that you hunted for your felf: 'Tis thought, your deer does hold you at a bay. Bap. Oh, oh, Petruchio, Tranio hits you now. Luc. I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio. Hor. Confefs, confefs, hath he not hit you there? Pet. He has a little gall'd me, I confefs; And as the jeft did glance away from me, 'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright. Bap. Now, in good fadness, Son Petruchio, I think, thou haft the verieft Shrew of all.

Pet. Well, I fay, no; and therefore for affurance, Let's each one send unto his Wife, and he Whose Wife is most obedient to come first, When he doth fend for her, fhall win the wager. Hor. Content; what wager?

Luc. Twenty crowns.

Pet. Twenty crowns!

I'll venture fo much on my hawk or hound,
But twenty times fo much upon my Wife.
Luc. A hundred then,

Hor. Content.

Pet. A match, 'tis done.

Hor. Who fhall begin?

Luc. That will I.

Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me.

Bion. I go.

[Exit.

Bap. Son, I'll be your half, Bianca comes.
Luc. I'll have no halves: I'll bear it all my self.

Re-enter Biondello.

How now, what news?

Bion. Sir my Mistress fends you

That she is bufie, and cannot come

word

Pet. How? fhe's busie and cannot come, is that an anfwer?

Gre. Ay, and a kind one too:

Pray God, Sir, your wife fend you not a worse.

Pet.

Pet. I hope better.

Hor. Sirrah, Biondello, go and intreat my wife to come to me forthwith. [Exit Biondello. Pet. Oh, oh! intreat her! nay, then fhe needs must

come.

Hor. I am afraid, Sir, do you what you can,

Enter Biondello.

Yours will not be intreated: now, where's my wife?
Bion. She fays, you have fome goodly jeft in hand;
She will not come the bids you come to her.

Pet. Worfe and worfe, fhe will not come!
Oh vile, intolerable, not to be indur'd:
Sirrah, Grumio, go to your Mistress,

Say, I command her to come to me.
Hor. I know her answer.

Pet. What?

Hor. She will not.

[Exit Gru.

Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there's an end.

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Bap. Now, by my hollidam, here comes Catharine! Cath. What is your will, Sir, that you fend for me? Pet. Where is your Sifter, and Hortenfio's Wife? Cath. They fit conferring by the parlour fire. Pet. Go fetch them hither; if they deny to come, Swinge me them foundly forth unto their husbands: Away, I fay, and bring them hither ftraight.

[Exit Catharina.

Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. Hor. And fo it is: I wonder, what it boads. Pet. Marry, peace it boads, and love, and quiet life, And awful rule, and right fupremacy:

And, to be fhort, what not, that's fweet and happy. Bap. Now fair befal thee, good Petruchio!

The

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