And thou, Hortenfio, with thy loving Widow; Pet. Nothing but fit and fit, and eat and eat! true. Pet. (25) Now, for my life, Hortenfio fears his Widow. Wid. Then never trust me, if I be afeard. Pet. You are very fenfible, and yet you miss my sense: I mean, Hortenfio is afeard of you. Wid. He, that is giddy, thinks, the world turns round. Pet. Roundly replied. Cath. Miftrefs, how mean you that? Wid. Thus I conceive by him. Pet. Conceives by me, how likes Hortenfio that? Hor. My widow fays, thus fhe conceives her tale. Pet. Very well mended; kifs him for that, good Widow. Cath. He, that is giddy, thinks, the world turns round I pray you, tell me what you meant by that. Wid. Your Husband, being troubled with a Shrew, Measures my Husband's forrow by his woe; And now you know my meaning. (25) Pet. Now, for my Life, Hortenfio fears his Widow. Hor. Then never trust me if I be afeard.] This Line was first placed to Hortenfio by the fecond Folio Edition: Mr. Rowe follow'd that Regulation; and Mr. Pope very judiciously has follow'd him. But the old Quarto's and firft Folio Impreffion rightly place it to the Widow: and it is evident by Petruchio's immediate Reply, that it muft belong to her. Petruchio fays, Hortenfio fears his Widow. The Widow underflanding This, as if Petruchio had meant, that Hortenfio affrighted her, put her into fears, denies, that She was afraid of him. Nay, fays Petruchio, don't be too fenfible, don't mistake my Meaning; Hortenfia, I fay, is in Fear of You, Cath. Cath. A very mean meaning. Wid. Right, I mean you. Cath. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you. Pet. To her, Kate. Hor. To her, Widow. Pet. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down. Hor. That's my office. Pet. Spoke like an Officer; ha', to thee, lad. [Drinks to Hortenfio. Bap. How likes Gremio thefe quick-witted folks? Gre. Believe me, Sir, they butt heads together well. Bian. Head and butt? an hafty-witted body Would fay, your head and butt were head and horn. Vin. Ay, miftrefs Bride, hath that awaken'd you? Bian. Ay, but not frighted me, therefore I'll fleep again. Pet. Nay, that thou shalt not, fince you have be gun: Have at you for a better jeft or two. Bian. Am I your bird? I mean to fhift my bush: [Exeunt Bianca, Catharine, and Widow. Tra. Oh, Sir, Lucentio flip'd me like his gray-hound, Which runs himself, and catches for his master. Pet. A good fwift Simile, but fomething currifh. Tra. 'Tis well, Sir, that you hunted for your felf: 'Tis thought, your deer does hold you at a bay. Bap. Oh, oh, Petruchio, Tranio hits you now. Luc. I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio. Hor. Confefs, confess, hath he not hit Pet. He has a little gall'd me, I confefs; And as the jeft did glance away from me, 'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright. Bap. Now, in good fadnefs, Son Petruchio, I think, thou haft the veriest Shrew of all. you there? Pet. Pet. Well, I fay, no; and therefore for affurance, When he doth fend for her, fhall win the wager. ; Luc. Twenty crowns. Pet. Twenty crowns! I'll venture fo much on my hawk or hound, Hor. Content. Pet. A match, 'tis done. Hor. Who fhall begin? Luc. That will I. Go, Biondello, bid your Mistress come to me. Bap. Son, I'll be your half, Bianca comes. Re-enter Biondello. How now, what news? Bion. Sir, my Mistress fends you word That she is bufie, and cannot come. [Exit. felf. Pet. How? fhe's bufie and cannot come : is that an answer? Gre. Ay, and a kind one too : Pray God, Sir, your wife fend you not a worse. Hor. Sirrah, Biondello, go and intreat my wife to come to me forthwith. [Exit Biondello. Pet. Oh, ho! intreat her! nay, then she needs must come. Hor. I am afraid, Sir, do you what you can, Enter Biondello. Yours will not be intreated: now, where's my wife? Bion. She fays, you have fome goodly jeft in hand; She will not come: the bids you come to her. Pet. Pet. Worfe and worse, she will not come ! Pet. What? Hor. She will not. [Exit Gru. Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there's an end. Enter Catharina. Bap. Now, by my hollidam, here comes Catharine! Cath. What is your will, Sir, that you fend for me? Pet. Where is your Sifter, and Hortenfio's Wife? Cath. They fit conferring by the parlour fire. Pet. Go fetch them hither; if they deny to come, Swinge me them foundly forth unto their husbands: Away, I fay, and bring them hither ftraight. [Exit Catharina. And, to be fhort, what not, that's fweet and happy. Enter Catharina, Bianca and Widow. See, where fhe comes, and brings your froward wives Catharine, that Cap of yours becomes you not; [She pulls off her cap, and throws it down. Wid. Lord, let me never have a caufe to figh, 'Till I be brought to fuch a filly pass. Bian. Fie, what a foolish duty call you this? Luc. I would, your duty were as foolish too! The wifdom of your duty, fair Bianca, Coft me an hundred crowns fince fupper-time. What duty they owe to their Lords and Husbands. Wid. Come, come, you're mocking; we will have no telling. Pet. Come on, I fay, and firft begin with her. Pet. I fay, the fhall; and firft begin with her. A Woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled, What is the but a foul contending Rebel, A a |