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Cath. Fie! fie! unknit that threatning unkind brow, And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, To wound thy Lord, thy King, thy Governor. It blots thy beauty, as frosts 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 Well dain to fip, 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 fea and land ; To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, While thou ly'ít warm at home, secure and safe, And çraves 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, peevith, sullen, fower, And not obedient to his honest will ; What is the but a foul contending Rebel, And graceless Traitor to her loving Lord ? I am alham'd, that Women are so simple To offer war where they should kneel for peace ; Or seek for rule, fupremacy, and sway, When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. Why are our bodies foft, and weak and smooth, Unapt to toil and trouble in the world, But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts ? Come, come, you froward and unable worms, My mind hath been as big as one


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 weaknefs past compare ;

That wager, tho'

That seeming to be moít, 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 band is ready, may it do him ease.
Pet. Why, there's a wench : come on, and kiss me,

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


hit the white; And being a winner, God give you good night.

[Exeunt Petruchio and Catharina. Hor. Now go thy ways, thou haft tam'd a curft

Shrew. Luc. 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, te 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 Tapfter. 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 fill?

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

Tap. Yea, marry, but thou hadî beff get thee home, for your Wife will course you for dreaming here all night.

Sly. Will me 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.

The End of the Second Volume.

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