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Tra. Of Mantua, sir? Marry, God forbid ! And come to Padua, careless of your life? Ped. My life, sir ! how, I pray you ;

hard.
Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua
To come to Padua : Know you not the cause?
Your ships are staid at Venice; and the duke
(For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him,)
Hath publith'd and proclaim'd it openly:
'Tis marvel ; but that you're but newly coine,
You might have heard it else proclaim'd about.

Ped. Alas, sir, it is worse for me than fo;
For I have bills for mony by exchange
From Florence, and must here deliver them.

Tra. Well, sir, to do you courtesy,
This will I do, and this will I advise you;
First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa ?

Ped. Ay, fir, 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, fir; and, footh to say, In countenance somewhat doth resemble you. Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all

[Afide. 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, fir; so shall you stay, 'Till you have done your business in the city. If this be courtesy, fir, accept of it. Ped. Oh, fir, I do; and will repute you ever

The

one.

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, fir, to cloath you as becomes you.

(Exeunt. SCENE III.

Enter Calbarine and Grumio.

Gru. No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my life, Cath. 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 intreaty, have a prefent alms; If not, elsewhere they meet with charity: But I, who never knew how to intreat, Nor never needed that I should intreat, Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of fleep; With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed: And that, which fpites me more than all these wants, He does it under name of perfect love; As who would say, If I should sleep, or eat, 'Twere deadly sickness, or else present death.

Go with me, &c.] There is an old comedy called Supposes, translated from Ariosto, by George Gascoigne. Thence Shakespeare borrowed this part of the plot, (as well as fome of the phraseology) though Theobald pronounces it his own invention. There likewise he found the quaint name of Petruchio. My yourg master and his man exchange habits, and persuade a Sanele, as he is called, to personate the jarker, exactly as in this play, by the pretended danger of his coming from Sienna to Ferrara, contrary, to the order of the government,

FARMER .

I pr’ythee

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?
Caib. 'Tis palling good ; I pr’ythee, let me have it.

Gru. I fear, it is too flegmatick a meat :
How say you to a fat tripe finely broild?

Catb. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me.

Gru. I cannot tell ;-I fear, it's cholerick.
What fay you to a piece of beef, and mustard ?

Cath. A dish, that I do love to feed upon.
Gru. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.
Cath. Why, then the beef, and let the mustard

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

tard,
Or else you get no beef of Grumio.

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

[Beats bim.
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!

thee

gone,
Enter Petruchio and Hortensio, with meat.
Pet. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all a-

mort?
Hor. Mistress, what cheer?
Cath. 'Faith, as cold as can be.

Pet. Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon
Here, love ; thou seest how diligent I am,
To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee :
I'm sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.
What, not a word ? Nay then, thou lov'st it not;

And

Go, get

I say.

me.

And all my pains is sorted to no proof."-
Here, take away the dish.

Cath. I pray you let it stand.

Pet. The poorest service is repaid with thanks; And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.

Cath. I thank you, sir.

Hor. Signior Petruchio, fy! you are to blame : Come, mistress Kate, l'll bear you company, Pet. Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lov'ft me.

[Afide.
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 filken coats, and caps, and golden rings,
With ruffs, and cuffs, and 'fardingals, 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 taylor stays thy leisure,
To deck thy body with his rufiling treasure.

Enter Ta;lor.
Come, taylor, let us see these ornaments.

Enter Haberdasher.
Lay forth the gown. What news with you, lir?

Hab. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.

s And all my pains is forted 10 mm proof.] And all my labour has ended in nothing, or prived nothing. We tried an experiment, but it forted nor.

Bacon. JOHNSON 9 --furdinga's, and things :) Though things is a poor word, yet I have no better, and perhaps the authour had not another that would rhyme. I once thought to transpose the words rings and things, but it would make little improvement. JOHNSON.

However poor the word, the poet mult be answerable for it, as he had uted it before, act ii. fc. 5, when the rhime did not force it upon him. We still have rings, and things, and fine array.

STEEVENS.

Pil

heart;

Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer,
A velvet dish ; fy, fy! 'tis lewd and filthy:
Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell,
A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap:
Away with it, come, let me have a bigger.

Catb. 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 hafte.
Ca!b. ' Why, sir,'I trust, I may have leave to

speak,
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

will tell the anger of my
Or, elle 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, a bauble, a silken pie :
I love thee well, in that thou lik’st it not.

Cath. 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, taylor, let us

fee't. O mercy, heaven! what masking stuff is here? What's this ? a Neeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon: What ! up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart? Here's snip, and nip, and cut, and Nith, and Nash,

Why, fir, I trufi, I may bave leave to speak, &c.] Shakespeare has here copied nature with great skill. Petruchio, by frightening, starving, and overwatching his wife, had tamed'her into gentleness and submission. And the audience expects to hear no more of the ihrew: when on her being crossed, in the article of falhion and finery, the most inveterate folly of the sex, she flies out again, though for the last time, into all the intemperate rage of her nature. WARBURTON.

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