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 sleep

again.

Pet. Nay, that thou shalt not, fince you have begun : Have at you for a better jeft or two.

Bian. Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush : And then purfue me, as you draw your bow. You are welcome all.

[Exeunt Bianca, Catharine, and Widow. Pet. She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio, This bird you aim'd at, tho' you hit it not; Therefore, a health to all that fhot and mifs'd.

Tra. Oh, Sir, Lucentio flip'd me like his grey-hound, Which runs himself, and catches for his master.

5

Pet. A good fwift Simile, but fomething currish. Tra. 'Tis well, Sir, that you hunted for yourself : '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, confefs, hath he not hit you there? 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. Bep. Now, in good fadnefs, fon Petruchio, I think, thou haft the verieft Shrew of all.

Pet. Well, I fay, no; and therefore for affurance, Let's each one fend unto his wife, and he Whofe wife is moft obedient to come first,

When he doth fend for her, fhall win the wager.

Hor. Content;

Luc. Twenty crowns.
Pet. Twenty crowns!

Sf, befides the original fenfe of speedy in motion, fignified witty, quick-witted. So in A you like it, the Duke fays of the clown, He is very fwift ad fententicus. Quick is now "ufed in

what wager?

almoft the fame fenfe, as nimble was in the age after that of our authour. Heylin fays of Ha'es, that he had known Laud for a nimble difputant.

I'll

I'll venture fo much on my hawk or hound,
But twenty times fo much upon my Wife.

Luc. A hundred then,

Hor. Content.

Pet. A match, 'tis done.

Hor. Who fhall begin?
Luc. That will I.

Go, Biondello, bid your Mistress come to me.

Bion. I go.

Bap. Son, I'll be your half, Bianca comes.

[Exit.

Luc. I'll have no halves: I'll bear it all myself.

Re-enter Biondello.

How now, what news?

Bion. Sir, my Mistress fends you word

That she is bufy, and cannot come.

Pet. How? fhe's bufy and cannot come, is that an anfwer?

Gre. Ay, and a kind one too :

Pray God, Sir, your wife fend you not a worse.
Pet. I hope better.

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: fhe bids you come to her.
Pet. Worfe and worse, she will not come !

Oh vile, intolerable, not to be indur'd:

Sirrah, Grumio, go to your Mistress,

Say, I command her to come to me. [Exit Grumio. Hor. I know her answer.

94

Pet. What?

Hor. She will not.

Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there's an end.

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 hufbands: Away, I fay, and bring them hither straight.

[Exit Catharina. Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. Hor. And fo it is: I wonder, what it bodes. Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life,

And awful rule, and right fupremacy :

And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy.
Bap. Now fair befal thee, good Petruchio!
The wager thou haft won; and I will add
Unto their loffes twenty thousand crowns,
Another dowry to another Daughter;
For fhe is chang'd, as fhe had never been.
Pet. Nay, I will win my wager better yet,
And fhow more fign of her obedience,
Her new-built virtue and obedience.

Enter Catharina, Bianca, and Widow.

See, where fhe comes, and brings your froward wives
As prisoners to her womanly perfuafion :

Catharine, that Cap of yours becomes you not;
Off with that bauble, throw it under foot.

[She pulls off her cap, and throws it down.

Wid.

Wid. Lord, let me never have a cause to figh, 'Till I be brought to fuch a filly pass.

Bian. Fy, what a foolish duty call you this? Luc. I would, your duty were as foolish too! The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca,

Coft me an hundred crowns fince fupper-time.
Bian. The more fool you, for laying on my duty.
Pet. Catharine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong
Women,

What duty they owe to their Lords and Hufbands. Wid. Come, come, you're mocking; we will have no telling.

Pet. Come on, I fay, and firft begin with her.
Wid. She fhall not.

Pet. I fay, fhe fhall; and firft begin with her.
Cath. Fy! fy! unknit that threatning unkind brow,
And dart not fcornful glances from those eyes,
To wound thy Lord, thy King, thy Governor.
It blots thy beauty, as frofts bite the meads;
Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds;
And in no fenfe is meet or amiable.

A Woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-feeming, thick, bereft of beauty;
And while it is fo, none fo dry or thirsty
Will dain to fip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy Hufband is thy Lord, thy Life, thy Keeper,
Thy Head, thy Sovereign; one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance: commits his body
To painful labour, both by fea and land;
To watch the night in ftorms, the day in cold,
While thou ly'ft warm at home, fecure and fafe,
And craves no other tribute at thy hands,
But love, fair looks, and true obedience;
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as the Subject owes the Prince,
Even fuch a woman oweth to her husband:
And when she's froward, peevish, fullen, fower,
And not obedient to his honeft will;

What

What is fhe but a foul contending Rebel,
And graceless Traitor to her loving Lord?
I am afham'd, that Women are fo fimple
To offer war where they should kneel for peace;
Or feek for rule, fupremacy, and fway,
When they are bound to ferve, love, and obey.
Why are our bodies foft, and weak and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
But that our foft conditions and our hearts
Should well agree with our external parts?
Come, come, you froward and unable worms,
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reafon haply more,
To bandy word for word, and frown for frown;
But, now I fee, our launces are but straws,

Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare;
That feeming to be moft, which we indeed leaft are.
Then vale your ftomachs, for it is no boot,
And place your hands below your husband's foot:
In token of which duty, if he please,

My hand is ready, may it do him ease.

Pet. Why, there's a wench: come on, and kiss
me, Kate.

Luc. Well, go thy ways, old lad, for thou shalt ha't.
Vin. 'Tis a good hearing, when children are toward.
Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are fro-
ward.

Pet. Come, Kate, we'll to bed;

We three are married, but you two are fped.
'Twas I won the wager, tho' you hit the "white;
And being a winner, God give you good night.

[Exeunt Petruchio and Catharine. Hor. Now go thy ways, thou haft tam'd a curft Shrew.

6 Though you hit the white.] To hit the white is a phrafe borrowed from archery: the mark

was commonly white. Here it alludes to the name Bianca or white.

Luc.