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I care not what, fo it be wholefome food.

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

Cath. 'Tis paffing good; I pr'ythee, let me have it.
Gru. I fear it is too flegmatic a meat..
How fay you to a fat tripe finely broil❜d?

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Cath. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me.
Gru. I cannot tell;-I fear it is choleric:.
What fay you to a piece of beef and mustard?
Cath. A difh that I do love to feed upon..
Gru. Ay, but the muftard is too hot a little.
Cath. Why then the beef, and let the mustard reff.
Gru. Nay, then I will not; you shall have the mustard,
Or elfe you get no beef of Grumio.

Cath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.
Gru. Why then the mustard without the beef.
Cath. Go, get thee gone, thou falfe deluding flave,

That feed'ft me with the very name of meat:
Sorrow on thee, and all the pack, of you,
That triumph thus upon my mifery!
Go, get thee gone, I say.

SCENE VII..

[Beats him.

Enter Petruchio and Hortenfio, with meat.

Pet. How fares my Kate? what, fweeting, all amort Hor. Miftrefs, what cheer?

Cath. 'Faith, as cold as can be.

Pet. Pluck up thy fpirits; look cheerfully upon me; Here, Love, thou feeft how diligent I am

To drefs thy meat myself, and bring it thee:
I'm fure, fweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.. 11
What, not a word? nay then, thou lov'ft it not:
And all my pains is forted to no proof.

Here, take away the difh.

Gath. I pray you, let it ftand.

Pet. The pooreft fervice is repaid with thanks And fo fhall mine before you touch the meat. Cath. I thank you,

Sir.

Hor. Signior Petruchio,, fie, you are to blame.) Come, Miltrefs Kate, I'll, bear you company

M

F. £ 3.

[ Afide.

Pet. Eat it up all, Hortenfio, if thoulox‍ft me;—

Much good do it unto thy gentle heart;
Kate, cat apace. And now, my honey-love,
Will we return unto my father's houfe,
And revel it as bravely as the reft,

With filken coats, and caps, and golden rings,
With ruffs, and cuffs, and fardingals, and things:
With fearfs, and fans, and double change of brav'ry,
With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knav'ry. -
What, haft thou din'd?' the tailor ftays thy leifure,
To deck thy body with his ruffling treafure.

SCENE VII. Enter Tailor,

Come, Tailor, let us fee thefe ornaments.
Enter Haberdafter.

Lay forth the gown! What news with you, Sir?
Hab. Here is the cap your Worship did befpeak.
Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer,
A velvet difh; fie, fie, 'tis lewd and fikhy;
Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-fhell,

A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap.
Away with it, come, let me have a bigger.

Cath. I'll have no bigger, this doth fit the time;
And gentlewomen wear fuch caps as thefe.

Pet. When you are gentle, you shall have one too, And not till then.

Hor. That will not be in hafte

Cath. Why, Sir, 1 truft I may have leave to fpeak,
And speak I will. I am no child, no babe;
Your betters have endur'd me fay my thind;
And, if you cannot, beft you stop your ears.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,
Or elfe my heart, concealing it, will break
And rather than it fhall, I will be free
Even to the utmoft as I please in words.

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Pet. Why, thou fay't true, it is a paltry cap,
A custard-coffin, 'a bauble, a filken pye,
I love thee well, in that thou lik'st it not.
Cath. Love me, or love me not, I like the cap;
And I will have it, or I will have none.

Pet.

Pei. Thy gown? why, ay; come, Tailor, let us fee't.
O mercy, Heav'n, what mafking ftuff is here?
What! this a fleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon;
What, up and down carv'd like an apple-tårt?
Here's fuip, and nip, and ent, and flifh, and flash,
Like to a cenfer in a barber's fhop:

Why, what a devil's name, Tailor, call'ft thou this?
Hor. 1 fee the's like to've neither cap nor gown.

Tai. You bid me make it orderly and well, According to the fashion of the time!

FAfide

Pet. Marry, and did: but if you be remember'd
I did not bid you mar it to the time.?!
Go, hop me over every kennel home,

For you
I'll none of it; hence, make your best of it.
Cath. I never faw a better-fashion'd gown,
More quaint, more pleafing, nor more commendable:
Belike you mean to make à puppet of me.

fhall hop without my cuftom, Sir:

Pet. Why, true, he means to make a puppet of thee. Tai. She fays, your Worship means to make a puppet of her.

Pet. O most monftrous arrogance!

Thou lieft, thou thread, thou thimble,

Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail,
Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou!
Brav'd in mine own houfe with a skein of thread:
Away, thou rag, thou quantity, , thou remnant;
Or I fhall fo be-mete thee with thy yard,
As thou shalt think on prating whilft thou v'it.
I tell thee, I, that thou haft marr'd her gown.

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Tai. Your Worship is deceiv'd, the gown is made Juft as my malter had direction.

Grumio gave order how it fhould be done. ›

Gru I gave him no order, I gave him the tuff.
Tai. But how did you defire it fhould be made?
Gru. Marry, Sir, with needle and thread.
Tai. But did you not request to have it cut?
Gru. Thou haft fac'd many things.

Tai. I have:

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Gru. Face not me: thou haft brav'd many men, brave not me; I will neither be fae'd, nor brav'd. I

fay

fay unto thee, I bid thy mafter cut out the gown, but I did not bid him cut it to pieces. Ergo thou lieft.

Tai. Why, here is the note of the fashion to teftify.
Pet. Read it..

Gru. The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so.
Tai. Imprimis, a loofe-bodied gown.

Gru. " Mafter, if ever I faid loofe-bodied gown, fow "me up in the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a "bottom of brown thread." I faid a gown.

Pet. Proceed.

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Gru. I confefs two fleeves.

Tai. The fleeves curiously cut.
Pet. Ay, there's the villany.

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Gru. Error th' bill, Sir, error i' th' bill: I com manded the fleeves fhould be cut out, and fow'd up again and that I'll prove upon thee, though thy little finger be arm'd in a thimble.

Tai. This is true that I fay; an I had thee in place. where, thou fhould't know it.

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Gru. I am for thee straight: take thou the bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me.

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Hor. God-a-mercy, Grumio, then he fhall have no odds.
Pet. Well, Sir, in brief the gown is not for me.

Gru. You are i' th' right, Sir, 'tis for my mistress.
Pet. Go, take it up unto thy master's use.

Gru. Villain, not for thy life: take up my mistress's gown for thy master's use!

Pet. Why, Sir, what's your conceit in that?,

Gry. Oh, Sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for; Take up my mistress's 's gown unto his master's use!

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Pet. Hortenfio, fay, thou wilt fee the tailor paid.

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Go, take it hence; be gone, and say no more.

Afide.

Hor. Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown to-morrow,

Take no unkindness. of his hafty words:

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Away, I fay; commend me to thy master. [Exit Tailor. Pet. Well, come, my Kate, we will unto your father's,. Even in thefe honeft mean habiliments: 1

Our

Our purfes fhall be proud, our garments poor:
For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
And as the fun breaks through the darkeft clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
What, is the jay more precious than the laik,
Because his feathers are more beautiful?
Or is the adder better than the eel,
Because his painted fkin contents the eye?
Oh, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worfe
For this poor furniture and mean array;
If thou account't it fhame, lay it on me;
And therefore frolic; we will hence forthwith,
To feaft and fport us at thy father's houfe.
Go call my men, and let us ftraight to him,
And bring our horfes unto Long-lane end,
There will we mount, and thither walk on foot.
Let's fee, I think, 'tis now fome feven o'clock,
And well we may come there by dinner-time.

Cath. I dare affure you, Sir, 'tis almost two;
And 'twill be fupper-time ere you come there.
Pet. It shall be feven, ere I go to horfe
Look, what i fpeak, or do, or think to do,
You are still croffing it; Sirs, let's alone,
I will not go to-day; and ere I do,

It shall be what o'clock 1 fay it is.

Hor. Why, fo; this gallant will command the fun.

[Exeunt Pet. Cath, and Her.

[The prefenters, above, fpeak here.]

Lord. Who's within there?

Enter fervants.

[Sly fleeps.

Afleep again! go take him cafily up, and put him in his own
apparel again. But fee you wake him not in any cafe.
Serv. It fhall be done, my Lord; come help to bear him
bence.
[They bear off Sly.

SCENE IX. Before Baptifta's house.

Enter Tranio, and the Pedant drefs'd like Vincentio.
Tra. Sir, this is the house, please it you, that I call?
Ped. Ay, what elfe! and (but I be deceived,):..
Signior Baptifta may remember me

Near

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