Bap. Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd, This is, her love; for that is all in all. Pet. Why, that is nothing; for I tell you, father, I am as peremptory as she proud-minded; And where two raging fires meet together, They do consume the thing that feeds their fury: Though little fire grows great with little wind, Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all: So I to her, and so she yields to me; For I am rough, and woo not like a babe. Bap. Well mayst thou woo, and happy be thy speed! But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words. Pet. Ay, to the proof; as mountains are for winds, That shake not, though they blow perpetually. Re-enter HORTENSIO, with his head broken. Bap. How now, my friend? why dost thou look so pale? Hor. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good musician? Hor. I think she'll sooner prove a soldier; Iron may hold with her, but never lutes. Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute? Hor. Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to 'me. I did but tell her, she mistook her frets, And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering; When, with a most impatient devilish spirit, Frets, call you these; quoth she: I'll fume with them: And, with that word, she struck me on the head, As on a pillory, looking through the lute: terms, As she had studied to misuse me so. Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench; I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her! Bap. Well, go with me, and be not so dis comfited: Proceed in practice with my younger daughter: She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns.Signior Petruchio, will you go with us; Or, shall I send my daughter Kate to you? Pet. I pray you do; I will attend her here,[Exeunt BAPTISTA, GREMIO, TRANIO, and HORTENSIO. And woo her with some spirit when she comes. Say, that she frown; I'll say, she looks as clear And say, she uttereth piercing eloquence: When I shall ask the bains, and when be married : But here she comes; and now, Petruchio, speak. Enter KATHARINA, Good-morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear. Kath. Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing; They call me-Katharine, that do talk of me. And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst; Remove you heuce: I knew you at the first, You were a moveable. Pet. Why, what's a moveable? Kath. A joint-stool. And yet as heavy as my weight should be. Kath. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard. Pet. O, slow-wing'd turtle! shall a buzzard take thee? Kath. Ay, for a turtle; as he takes a buzzard. Pet. Come, come, you wasp; i'faith, you are too angry. Kath. If I be waspish, best beware my sting. Pet. My remedy is then, to pluck it out. Kath. Ay, if the fool could find it where it lies. Pet. Who knows not where a wasp doth wear his sting? In his tail. Kath. Pet. In his tongue. Whose tongue ? Kath. Yours, if you talk of tails; and so fare well. Pet. What with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again, Good Kate; I am a gentleman. Kath. 1 That I'll try. [Striking him. Pet. I swear I'll cuff you, if you strike again. Kath. So may you lose your arms: If you strike me, you are no gentleman; Pet. A combless cock, so Kate will be my hen. craven. Pet. Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not look so sour. Kath. It is my fashion when I see a crab. Pet. Why here's no crab; and therefore look not sour. Kath. There is, there is. Had I a glass, I would. Pet. Then show it me. Pet. What, you mean my face? Kath. Well aim'd of such a young one. Pet. Now, by Saint George, I am too young for you. Kath. Yet you are wither'd. Pet. Kath. 'Tis with cares. I care not. Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth you 'scape not so. Kath. I chafe you, if I tarry; let me go. Pet. No, not a whit; I find you passing gentle. 'Twas told me, you were rough, and coy and sullen, And now I find report a very liar; For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous; But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time flowers: Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look as kance, Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will; Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk; Pet. Did ever Dian so become a grove, Pet. It is extempore, from my mother-wit. Kath. A witty mother! witless else her son. Pet. Am I not wise? Kath. Yes; keep you warm. Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharine, in thy bed: And therefore, setting all this chat aside, Thus in plain terms:-Your father hath consented That you shall be my wife; your dowry 'greed on; And, will you, nill you, I will marry you. Re-enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and TRANIO. Bap. Now, Signior Petruchio: How speed you with Pet. How but well, sir? how but well? It were impossible I should speed amiss. Bap. Why, how now, daughter Katharine ; in your dumps? Kath. Call you me daughter? now I promise you, You have show'd a tender fatherly regard, A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Jack, That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her; For she's not froward, but modest as the dove; And to conclude,-we have 'greed so well together, That upon Sunday is the wedding-day. Tra. Is this your speeding? nay, then, good |