Ped. Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been; Pisa, renowned for grave citizens.

Tra. Among them, know you one Vincentio? Ped. I know him not, but I have heard of him; A merchant of incomparable wealth.

Tra. He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say, In countenance somewhat doth resemble you. Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all one.

[Aside.

Tra. To save your life in this extremity,
This favour will I do you for his sake;
And think it not the worst of all your fortunes,
That you are like to sir Vincentio.

His name and credit shall you undertake,

And in my house you shall be friendly lodg'd;-
Look, that you take upon you as you should;
You understand me, sir;-so shall you stay
Till you have done your business in the city:
If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it.

Ped. O, sir, I do; and will repute you ever

The patron of my life and liberty.

Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter good. This, by the way, I let you understand;

My father is here look'd for every day,

To pass assurance of a dower in marriage
"Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here.
In all these circumstances I'll instruct you:

Go with me, sir, to clothe you as becomes you 55.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Room in Petruchio's House.

Enter KATHARINE and GRUMIO.

Gru. No, no, forsooth; I dare not, for my life. Kath. The more my wrong, the more his spite ap

pears:

What, did he marry me to famish me?
Beggars, that come unto my father's door,
Upon entreaty, have a present alms;
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity:
But I,-who never knew how to entreat,
Nor never needed that I should entreat,-
And starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep;
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed:
And that which spites me more than all these wants,
He does it under name of perfect love;

As who should say,-if I should sleep, or eat,
"Twere deadly sickness, or else present death.—
I pr'ythee go, and get me some repast;
I care not what, so it be wholesome food.

Gru. What say you to a neat's foot?

Kath. 'Tis passing good: I pr'ythee let me have it.
Gru. I fear, it is too cholerick a meat:-

How say you to a fat tripe, finely broil'd?
Kath. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me.
Gru. I cannot tell; I fear, 'tis cholerick.
What say you to a piece of beef, and mustard?

Kath. A dish that I do love to feed upon.

Gru. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.
Kath. Why, then the beef, and let the mustard

rest.

Gru. Nay, then I will not; you shall have the mustard,

Or else you get no beef of Grumio.

Kath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.
Gru. Why then the mustard without the beef.
Kath. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave,
[Beats him.

That feed'st me with the very name of meat:
Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you,

That triumph thus upon my misery!

Go,

get thee gone, I say.

Enter PETRUCHIO, with a dish of meat; and

HORTENSIO.

Pet. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all

amort?

Hor. Mistress, what cheer?

Kath.

'Faith, as cold as can be.

Pet. Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon me.

Here, love; thou see'st how diligent I am,

To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee:

[Sets the dish on a table.

I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. What, not a word? Nay then, thou lov'st it not; And all my pains is sorted to no proof:

Here, take away this dish.

Kath.

'Pray you, let it stand. Pet. The poorest service is repaid with thanks; And so shall mine, before you touch the meat. Kath. I thank you, sir.

Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame: Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.

Pet. Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lov'st me.

[Aside.

Much good do it unto thy gentle heart!
Kate, eat apace:-And now, my honey love,
Will we return unto thy father's house;
And revel it as bravely as the best,

With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings,
With ruffs, and cuffs, and farthingales, and things;
With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery,
With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery.
What, hast thou din'd? The tailor stays thy leisure,
To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure.—

Enter Tailor.

Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments;

Enter Haberdasher.

Lay forth the gown.-What news with you, sir?
Hab. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.
Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer:
A velvet dish:-fie, fie! 'tis lewd and filthy:
Why, 'tis a cockle, or a walnutshell,
A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap;
Away with it, come, let me have a bigger.

Kath. I'll have no bigger; this doth fit the time, And gentlewomen wear such caps as these.

Pet. When you are gentle, you shall have one

too,

And not till then.

Hor.

That will not be in haste.

[Aside.

Kath. Why, sir, I trust, I may have leave to

speak 56;

And speak I will; I am no child, no babe:
Your betters have endur'd me say my mind;
And, if you cannot, best you stop your ears.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart;
Or else my heart, concealing it, will break:
And, rather than it shall, I will be free
Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.
Pet. Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap,
A custard-coffin 57, a bauble, a silken pie:
I love thee well, in that thou lik'st it not.

Kath. Love me, or love me not, I like the cap; And it I will have, or I will have none.

Pet. Thy gown? why, ay:-Come tailor, let us see't,

O mercy, God! what masking stuff is here?
What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demicannon:
What! up and down, carv'd like an appletart?
Here's snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash,
Like to a censer in a barber's shop 58:
Why, what, o'devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?
Hor. I see, she's like to have neither cap nor

gown.

[Aside.