As if he were the right Vincentio.

Take in your love, and then let me alone.

[Exeunt LUCENTIO and BIANCA.

Enter a Pedant.

And you, sir!

Ped. God save you, sir!

Tra.

You are welcome.

Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest?
Ped. Sir, at the farthest for a week or two.
But then up farther; and as far as Rome;
And so to Tripoly, if God lend me life.
Tra. What countryman, I pray?

Ped.

Of Mantua.

Tra. Of Mantua, sir?-Marry, God forbid!

And come to Padua, careless of your life?

Ped. My life, sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard.

Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua

To come to Padua. Know you not the cause?
Your ships are stayed at Venice; and the duke
(For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him)
Hath published and proclaimed it openly.
'Tis marvel; but that you're but newly come,
You might have heard it else proclaimed about.
Ped. Alas, sir, it is worse for me than so;
For I have bills for money 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, sir, 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, sir; and sooth to say,

In countenance somewhat doth resemble you. Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all one.

[Aside.

Tra. To save your life in this extremity,
This favor 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 lodged.-
Look, that you take upon you as you should;
You understand me, sir;-so shall you stay
Till you have done your business in the city.
If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it.

Ped. O sir, I do; and will repute you ever
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 looked 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, sir, to clothe you as becomes you.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. A Room in Petruchio's House.

Enter KATHARINA and GRUMIO.

Gru. No, no; forsooth; I dare not, for my life. Kath. 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 entreaty, have a present alms;
If not elsewhere they meet with charity:
But I-who never knew how to entreat-

Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep;
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed:
And that which spites me more than all these wants,
He does it under name of perfect love;

As who should say,-if I should sleep, or eat,
'Twere deadly sickness, or else present death.-

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?

Kath. 'Tis passing good; I pr'ythee let me have it.
Gru. I fear it is too choleric a meat.-
How say you to a fat tripe, finely broiled?

Kath. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me.
Gru. I cannot tell; I fear 'tis choleric.

What say you to a piece of beef, and mustard?
Kath. A dish that I do love to feed upon.

Gru. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.

Kath. Why, then the beef, and let the mustard rest. Gru. Nay, then I will not; you shall have the mustard,

Or else you get no beef of Grumio.

Kath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt. Gru. Why, then the mustard without the beef.

Kath. Go, get thee gone, thou false, deluding slave, [Beats him. 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!

Go, get thee gone, I say.

Enter PETRUCHIO, with a dish of meat; and HOR

TENSIO.

Pet. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all

amort ?1

Hor. Mistress, what cheer?

Kath.

'Faith, as cold as can be.

Pet. Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon me. Here, love; thou see'st how diligent I am,

To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee.

[Sets the dish on a table. I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. What, not a word? Nay then, thou lov'st it not;

1 That is, all sunk and dispirited. This Gallicism is frequent in many of the old plays.

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

Kath.

Pray you, let it stand. Pet. The poorest service is repaid with thanks; And so shall mine, before you touch the meat. Kath. I thank you, sir.

Hor. Seignior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame! Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.

Pet. Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lov'st me.-—

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,

[Aside.

With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings,
With ruffs, and cuffs, and farthingales, and things;
With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery,2
With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery.
What, hast thou dined? The tailor stays thy leisure,
To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure.

Enter Tailor.

Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments;

Enter Haberdasher.

Lay forth the gown.-What news with you, sir?
Hab. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.
Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer!
A velvet dish;-fie, fie! '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.

1 "And all my labor has ended in nothing, or proved nothing," says Johnson. This can hardly be right. Mr. Douce's suggestion, that it means "all my labor is adapted to no approof," is much better; indeed, there can be no doubt that we should read "proof with a mark of elision for approof; but sort is used in the sense of sorter (French), to issue, to terminate." "It sorted not" is frequently used by writers of that period for, It did not end so; or, It did not answer. Shakspeare uses sort for lot, chance, more than once.

2 Finery.

Kath. 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 haste. [Aside. Kath. Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak ; And speak I will; I am no child, no babe. Your betters have endured me say my mind ; And, if you cannot, best you stop your ears. My tongue will tell the anger of my heart; Or else 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.

Kath. 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, tailor, let us see't.

O mercy, God! what masking stuff is here?
What's this? a sleeve! 'tis like a demi-cannon.
What! up and down, carved like an apple-tart?
Here's snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash,
Like to a censer 2 in a barber's shop.-
Why, what, o' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?
Hor. I see, she's like to have neither cap nor gown.
[Aside.
Tai. You bade me make it orderly and well,
According to the fashion, and the time.

Pet. Marry, and did; but if you be remembered,
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.
Kath. I never saw a better-fashioned gown,

1 A coffin was the culinary term for the raised crust of a pie or custard.

2 These censers resembled our brasiers in shape; they had pierced

convex covers.