Cath. Love me, or love me not, I like the

cap,

And I will have it, or I will have none.

Pet. Thy gown? why, aye; come, taylor, let

me see't.

O mercy, Heaven! what masking stuff is here? What's this, a sleeve? 'Tis like a demi-canon; What up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart! Here's snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash,

Like to a censer in a barber's shop.

Why, what the devil's name, taylor, call'st thou this?

Grum. I see she's like to've neither

gown.

cap nor Taylor. You bid me make it orderly and well, According to the fashion of the time.

Pet. Marry, and did: but if you be remem ber'd,

I did not bid you mar it to the time. Go, hop me over every kennel, home; For you shall hop without my custom, sir: I'll none of it; hence, make your best of it. Cath. I never saw a better fashion'd gown, "More quaint, more pleasing, nor more com. "mendable:"

Belike you mean to make a puppet of me. Pet. Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee.

Taylor. She says your worship means to make a puppet of her.

Pet. Oh! most monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread, thou thimble, Thou yard, three-quarters, half yard, quarter,

nail.

Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket, thou! Brav'd in my own house with a skein of thread! Away thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant, "Or I shall so bemete thee with thy yard, "As thou shall thin on prating whilst thou liv'st:"

I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd the gown. Taylor. Your worship is deceived, the gown is made just as my master had direction; Grumio gave order how it should be done.

Grum. I gave him no order, I gave him the stuff.

Taylor. But how did you desire it should be made?

Grum. Marry, sir, with a needle and thread. Taylor. But did not you request to have it cut?

Grum. Though thou hast faced many things, face not me: I say unto thee, I bid thy master gown, but I did not bid him cut it to pieces. Ergo, thou liest.

eut the

Taylor. Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify.

Pet. Read it.

F

Taylor. Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown.

Grum. Master, if ever I said a loose-bodied gown, sew me up in the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom of brown thread: I said a gown.

Pet. Proceed.

Taylor. With a small compass cape.
Grum. I confess the cape.

Taylor. With a trunk sleeve.

Grum. I confess two sleeves.
Taylor. The sleeves curiously cut.
Pet. Ay, there's the villainy.

Grum. Error i'th' bill, sir; error i'th' bill; I commanded the sleeves should be cut out, and sewed upon again; and that I'll prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble. Taylor. This is true that I say; an' I had thee in a place, thou shouldst know it.

Grum. I am for thee, streight-Come on, you parchment shred! [They fight. Pet. What, chickens spar in presence of the

kite!

I'll swoop upon you both! out, out, ye vermin! [Beats them off. Cath. For Heaven'ssake, Sir, have patience! how you fright me!

Pet. Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father's,

Even in these honest, mean habiliments :
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor;
For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;

"And as the sun breaks thro' the darkest cloud, "So honour 'peareth in the meanest habit. "What, is the jay more precious than the lark, "Because his feathers are more beautiful? "Or is the adder better than the eel,

66

Because his painted skin contents the eye? "Oh, no, good Kate; neither art thou the

worse

"For this poor furniture, and mean array.
"If thou account's it shame, lay it on me;
"And therefore frolic;" we will hence, forth-
with,

To feast and sport it at thy father's house:
Go call my men, and bring our horses out.
Cath. O happy hearing! let us straight be
gone;

I cannot tarry here another day.

Pet. Cannot, my Kate! O fy! indeed you

can

Besides, on second thoughts, 'tis now too late, For, look, how bright and goodly shines the

moon.

Cath. The moon! the sun; it is not moonlight now.

1

Pet. I say it is the moon that shines so bright. Cath. I say it is the sun that shines so bright. Pet. Now by my mother's and that's my

self,

son,

It shall be moon, or star, or what I list,

Or ere I journey to your father's house.
Go on, and fetch our horses back again ;
Evermore crost, and crost? nothing but crost!
Grum. Say as he says, or we shall never go.
Cath. I see 'tis vain to struggle with my
bonds;

So be it moon, or star, or what you please;
And if you please to call it a rush-candle,
Henceforth, I vow, it shall be so for me.
Pet. I say, it is the moon.

Cath, I know it is the moon.

Pet. Nay, then, you lie, it is the blessed sun. Cath. Just as you please, it is the blessed sun; But sun it is not, when you say it is not; And the moon changes, even as your mind: What you will have it nam'd, even that it is, And so it shall be for your Catherine.

Pet. Well, forward, forward, thus the bowl shall run,

And not unluckily against the bias.
But, soft, some company is coming here,
And stops our journey.

Enter BAPTISTA, HORTENSIO, and BIANCA,

Good-morrow, gentle mistress, where away? Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman; Such war of white and red within her cheeks!