foon feel to thy cold comfort, for being flow in thy hot office.

Curt. I pr'ythee, good Grumio, tell me, how goes

the world?

Gru. A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine; and, therefore, fire: do thy duty, and have thy duty; for my mafter and mistress are almost frozen to death.

Curt. There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the news.

Gru. Why, Jack boy, ho boy, and as much news as thou wilt.

Curt. Come, you are fo full of conycatching.

Gru. Why, therefore, fire; for I have caught extreme cold. Where's the cook? is fupper ready, the house trimm'd, rushes strew'd, cobwebs fwept, the fervingmen in their new fuftian, their white stockings, and every officer his wedding garment on; * be the Jacks fair within, the Jills fair without, carpets laid, and every thing in order?

Curt. All ready: and therefore, I pray thee, what news? Gru. First, know, my horfe is tired, my mafter and mistress fall'n out.

Curt. How?

Gru. Out of their faddles into the dirt; and thereby hangs a tale.

Curt. Let's ha't, good Grumio.

Gru. Lend thine ear.

Curt. Here.

Gru. There.

[Strikes him.

Curt. This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.

Gru. And therefore 'tis call'd a fenfible tale: and this cuff was but to knock at your ear, and beseech liftning. Now I begin: imprimis, we came down a foul hill, my mafter riding behind my mistress.

Curt. Both on one horse?

*Be the Jacks fair within, the Jills fair without?] i. c. Are the drinking Veffels clean, and the Maid-Servants drefs'd?

Gru.

Gru. What's that to thee?

Curt. Why, a horse.

Gru. Tell thou the tale-But hadft thou not croft me, thou should'st have heard how her horse fell, and fhe under her horfe: thou fhould't have heard in how miry a place, how fhe was bemoil'd, how he left her with the horse upon her, how he beat me because her horfe ftumbled, how fhe waded through the dirt to pluck him off me; how he swore, how the pray'd that never pray'd before; how I cry'd; how the horses ran away; how her bridle was burft; how I loft my crupper; with many things of worthy memory, which now fhall die in oblivion, and thou return unexperienc'd to thy grave.

Curt. By this reckoning he is more fhrew then fhe. Gru. Ay, and that thou and the proudeft of you all fhall find, when he comes home. But what talk I of this? call forth Nathaniel, Jofeph, Nicholas, Philip, Walter, Sugarfop, and the reft: let their heads be fleekly comb'd, their blue coats brufh'd, and their garters of an indifferent knit; let them curt'fy with their left legs, and not prefume to touch a hair of my mafter's horse-tail, 'till they kifs their hands. Are they all ready?

Curt. They are.

Gru. Call them forth.

Curt. Do you hear, ho? you must meet my master to countenance my mistress.

Gru. Why, fhe hath a face of her own.

Curt. Who knows not that?

Gru. Thou, it seems, that call'ft for company to countenance her.

Curt. I call them forth to credit her.

Enter four or five Serving-men.

Gru. Why, the comes to borrow nothing of them. Nat. Welcome home, Grumio.

Phil. How now, Grumio?

Jof. What, Grumio!

Nich. Fellow Grumio!

Nath. How now, old lad.

Gru. Welcome, you; how now, you; what, you; fellow, you; and thus much for greeting. Now my fpruce companions, is all ready, and all things neat? Nat. All things are ready; how near is our mafter? Gru. E'en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore be not cock's paffion, filence! -I hear my maf

ter.

Pet.

WHE

SCENE II.

Enter Petruchio and Kate.

HERE be thefe knaves? what, no man at door to hold my ftirrup, nor to take my horfe? where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip? All Serv. Here, here, Sir; here, Sir.

Pet. Here, Sir, here, Sir, here, Sir, here Sir? You loggerheaded and unpolish'd grooms: What? no attendance? no regard? no duty? Where is the foolish knave I sent before?

Gru. Here, Sir, as foolish as I was before.
Pet. You peasant fwain, you whorefon, malt-horse
drudge,

Did not I bid thee meet me in the park,
And bring along these rascal knaves with thee?

Gru. Nathaniel's coat, Sir, was not fully made : And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' th' heel: There was no link to colour Peter's hat,

And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing:
There were none fine, but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory;
The reft were ragged, old and beggarly,

Yet as they are, here are they come to meet you.
Pet. Go, rafcals, go, and fetch my supper in.

Where is the life that late I led?

[Exeunt Servants. [Singing.

Where

Where are thofe

-fit down, Kate,

And welcome. Soud, foud, foud, foud!

Enter Servants with Supper.

Why, when, I say? nay, good sweet Kate, be merry. Off with my boots, you rogue: you villains, when?

It was the Friar of Orders grey,
As he forth walked on his way.

[Sings.

Out, out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry.
Take that, and mind the plucking off the other.
[Strikes him.
Be merry, Kate: fome water, here; what hoa!

Enter one with water,

Where's my spaniel Troilus? firrah, get you hence,
And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither:

One, Kate, that you must kifs, and be acquainted with.
Where are my flippers? fhall I have fome water?
Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily:
You, whorefon villain, will you let it fall?

Cath. Patience, I pray you, 'twas a fault unwilling. Pet. A whorefon, beatle-headed, flap-ear'd knave: Come, Kate, fit down; I know, you have a ftomach. Will you give thanks, fweet Kate, or else shall I? What's this, mutton?

1 Ser. Yes.

Pet. Who brought it?

Ser. I.

Pet. 'Tis burnt, and fo is all the meat:

What dogs are these? where is the rascal cook?
How durft you, villains, bring it from the dreffer,
And serve it thus to me that love it not?
There, take it to you, trenchers, caps and all:

Throws the meat, &c. about the Stage. You heedlefs jolt-heads, and unmanner'd flaves! What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight.

Cath.

Cath. I pray you, husband, be not fo difquiet;
The meat was well, if you were fo contented.
Pet. I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dry'd away,
And I exprefly am forbid to touch it:

For it engenders choler, planteth anger;
And better 'twere, that Both of us did fast,
Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric,
Than feed it with fuch over-roafted flesh:
Be patient, for to-morrow't shall be mended,
And for this night we'll fast for company.
Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. [Exe.
Enter Servants feverally.

Nath. Peter, didft ever see the like?
Peter. He kills her in her own humour.
Gru. Where is he?

Enter Curtis, a Servant.

Curt. In her chamber, making a fermon of conti-
nency to her,

And rails and fwears, and rates; that fhe, poor foul,
Knows not which way to ftand, to look, to speak,
And fits as one new-rifen from a dream.
Away, away, for he is coming hither.

Pet.

TH

SCENE III.

Enter Petruchio.

[Exeunt.

HUS have I politicly begun my reign,
And 'tis my hope to end fuccefsfully:
My faulcon now is fharp, and paffing empty,
And till she stoop, fhe muft not be full-gorg'd,
For then she never looks upon her lure.
Another way I have to man my haggard,
To make her come, and know her keeper's Call:
That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites,
That bait and beat, and will not be obedient.

She