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Forfwear Bianca and her love for ever.
Tra. And here I take the like unfeigned oath,
Hor. 'Would all the world, but he, had quite forsworn
[Exit Hor. Tra. Mistress Bianca, bless you
[Lucentio and Bianca come forward. Bian. Tranio, you jest: but have you both forsworn Tra; Mistress, we have.
[me? Luc. Then we are rid of Licio.
Tra, l’ faith, he'll have a lusty widow now,
Bian. God give him joy!
Enter Biondello, running.
Will serve the turn.
Tra. What is he, Biondello ?
Bion. Master, a mercantant, or else a pedant;
Luc. And what of him, Tranio?
Tra. If he be credulous, and trust my tale,
[Exeunt Luc. and Bian,
Enter a Pedant. Ped. God save you, Sir.
Tra. And you, Sir ; you are welcome :
Ped. Sir, at the farthest for a week or two :
Tra. What countryman, I pray?
Tra. Of Mantua, Sir ? God forbid !
life : Ped. My life, Sir! how, I pray for that goes hard.
Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua
Ped. Alas, Sir; it is worfe for me than fo;
Tra. Well, Sir, to do you courtesy,
Ped. Ay, Sir, in Pisa have I often been;
Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio ?
A merchant of incomparable wealth.
Tra. He is my father, Sir ; and, footh to say, In count'nance fomewhat doth resemble you. Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all
[-iside.com Tra. To save your life in this extremity, This favour will I do you for his fake; 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 lodgi'd : Look, that you take upon you as you should. You understand me, Sir : so shall you stay, Till you have done
business in the city. If this be court'sy, Sir, accept of it.
Ped. Oh, Sir, I do.; and will repute you ever. The patron of my life and liberty.
Tra. Then with me to make the matter goods, This by the way.
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, Sir, to clothe you as becomes you.
[Exeunt. SCEN E VI. Enter Catharina and Grumio, Gru. No, no, forfooth ; I dare not for my life.
Cath. The more my wrong, the more his fpite apr What, did he marry me to famish me? [pears. Beggars that come unto my father's door, Upon intreaty, have a present alms; If not, elfe where 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 sleep With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed. And that, which fpites me more thanall these wants He pes under name of perfe& love;, As who would say, if I should sleep or eat;. "Twere deadly fickness, or else.present deaths. I pr’ythee, go, and get me some repaft;,
I care not what, so it be wholesome food.
Gru. What say 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 broild ?
Cath. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me.
Gru. I cannot tell;-I fear it's choleric:
Cath. A dish that I do love to feed upon.
Gru. Nay, then I will not; you shall have the muOr else you get no beef of Grumio.
[ftard, Gath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt. Gru. Why then the mustard without the beef. Cath. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding flave,
[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 and Hortenfio, with meat. Pet. How fares my Kate? what, sweeting, all amort? Hor. Miftrefs, what cheer? Cath. 'Faith, as cold as can be.
Pet. Pluck up thy fpirits ; look chearfully upon me; Here, Love, thou feest 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'ft it not : And all my pains is forted to no proof. Here, take away the dish.
Catb. I pray you, let it ftand.
Pet, The pooreft fervice is repaid with thanks, And so fhall mine before you touch the meat.
Cath. I thank you, Sir.
Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie, you are to blame: Coue, Mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.
Pet. Eat it up all, Hortenfio, if thou lovest
S CE N E VIII. Enter Tailor.
Hab. Here is the cap your Worship did befpeak.
Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer,
Cath. I'll have no bigger, this doth fit the time ;
Pet. When you are gentle, you shall have one too,
Hor. That will not be in hafte.
Cath. Why, Sir, I trust I may have leave to speak,
Pet. Why, thou say't true; it is a paltry cap,
Cath. Love me, or love me not, I like the cap;