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Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good mufician?

Hor. I think, fhe'll fooner prove a foldier; Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.

Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute? Hor. Why, no; for fhe hath broke the lute to me. I did but tell her fhe miftook her frets,

And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering,
When with a moft impatient devilish fpirit,

Frets call you them? quoth fhe: I'll fume with them:
And with that word fhe ftruck me on the head,
And through the inftrument my Pate made way,
And there I flood amazed for a while,

As on a pillory, looking through the lute;
While fhe did call me rafcal, fidler,

And twangling Jack, with twenty fuch vile terms,
As fhe had ftudied to misuse me fo.

Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lufty wench;
I love her ten times more than e'er I did;
Oh, how I long to have fome chat with her!

Bap. Well, go with me, and be not fo discomfited, Proceed in practice with my younger daughter, She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns; Signior Petruchio, will you go with us,

Or fhall I fend my daughter Kate to you?
Pet. I pray you, do. I will attend her here,

[Exit Bap. with Grem. Horten. and Tranio.
And woo her with some spirit when he comes.
Say, that fhe rail; why, then I'll tell her plain,
She fings as fweetly as a nightingale:

Say, that the frowns; I'll fay, fhe looks as clear
As morning rofes newly wafh'd with dew;
Say, fhe be mute, and will not speak a word:
Then I'll commend her volubility;
And fay, she uttereth piercing eloquence:
If fhe do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks,
As tho' fhe bid me ftay by her a week;
If the do deny to wed, I'll crave the day

When

When I fhall afk the banes, and when be married? But here fhe comes, and now, Petruchio, speak.

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Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear. Cath. Well have you heard, but fomething hard of hearing.

They call me Catharine, that do talk of me.

Pet. You lie, in faith, for you are call'd plain Kate. And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curft: But Kate, the prettieft Kate in christendom, Kate of Kate-hall, my super-dainty Kate; (For dainties are all Cates) and therefore Kate; Take this of me, Kate of my confolation! Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every Town, Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty founded, Yet not fo deeply as to thee belongs: Myself am mov'd to woo thee for my wife.

Cath. Mov'd? in good time; let him that mov'd you hither,

Remove you hence; I knew you at the first

You were a moveable.

Pet. Why, what's a moveable?

Cath. A join'd-ftool.

Pet. Thou haft hit it: come, fit on me.

Cath. Affes are made to bear, and fo are you. Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are you. Cath. No fuch jade, Sir, as you; if me you mean. Pet. Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee; For knowing thee to be but young and lightCath. Too light for such a swain as you to catch; And yet as heavy as my weight should be. Pet. Should bee;hould buz..

Cath. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard.

Pet. Oh, flow-wing'd turtle, fhall a buzzard take

thee?

Cath.

Cath. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.
Pet. Come, come, you wafp, i'faith, you are too

angry.

Cath. It I be wafpifh, 'beft beware my fting.
Pet. My Remedy is then to pluck it out.

Cath. Ah, if the fool could find it, where it lies.
Pet. Who knows not, where a wasp does wear his
fting?

In his tail..

Cath. In his tongue.

Pet. Whofe tongue?

Cath. Yours, if you talk of tails; and fo farewel. Pet. What with my tongue in your tail? nay, come

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If

Cath. That I'll try.

Pet. I fwear, I'll cuff

[She frikes him.

you, if you ftrike again.

Cath. So may you lofe your arms.

you ftrike me, you are no gentleman;

And if no gentleman, why then, no arms.
Pet. A herald, Kate? oh, put me in thy books.
Cath. What is your creft, a coxcomb?

Pet. A comblefs cock, fo Kate will be my hen.
Cath. No cock of mine, you crow too like a craven.
Pet. Nay, come, Kate; come, you must not look
fo fower.

Cath. It is my fashion when I fee a crab.

Pet. Why, here's no crab, and therefore look not fo fower.

Cath. There is, there is.

Pet. Then, fhew it me.

Gath. Had I a glafs, I would.

Pet. What, you mean my face?

Cath. Well aim'd of such a young one.

Pet. Now, by St. George, I am too young for you. Cath. Yet you are wither'd.

Pet. 'Tis with Cares.

Cath. I care not.

Pet.

Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate; in footh you 'scape not so. Cath. I chafe you if I tarry; let me go.

Pet. No, not a whit; I find you paffing gentle: 'Twas told me, you were rough, and coy, and fullen, And now I find Report a very liar;

For thou art pleasant, gamesome, paffing courteous,
But flow in fpeech, yet sweet as fpring-time flowers.
Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look ascance,
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,

Nor haft thou pleasure to be cross in talk:
But thou with mildness entertain'ft thy wooers,
With gentle conf'rence, foft and affable.
Why doth the world report, that Kate doth limp?
Oh fland'rous world! Kate like the hazle-twig,
Is ftraight and flender; and as brown in hue
As hazle-nuts, and fweeter than the kernels.
O, let me fee thee walk; thou doft not halt.
Cath. Go, fool, and whom thou keep'ft command.
Pet. Did ever Dian so become a grove,

As Kate this chamber with her princely gait?
O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate,

And then let Kate be chaft, and Dian fportful!-
Cath. Where did you ftudy all this goodly fpeech?
Pet. It is extempore, from my mother-wit.
Cath. A witty mother, witlefs elfe her fon.
Pet. Am I not wife?

Cath. Yes; keep you warm.

Pet. Why, fo I mean, fweet Catharine, in thy bed: And therefore fetting all this chat afide,

Thus in plain terms: your father hath consented,
That you fhall be my wife; your dowry 'greed on;
And, will you, nill you, I will marry you.
Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn,
For by this light, whereby I fee thy beauty,
(Thy beauty, that doth make me like thee well ;)
Thou must be married to no man but me.
For I am he, am born to tame you, Kate;
And bring you from a wild cat to a Kate,

Con

Conformable as other houfhold Kates;
Here comes your father, never make denial,
I muft and will have Catharine to my

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Wife.

Enter Baptifta, Gremio, and Tranio.
WOW, fignior Petruchio, how speed you with
my daughter?

Bap. NOW,

Pet. How but well, Sir? how but well?

It were impoffible, I should speed amifs.

Bap. Why how now, daughter Catharine, in your dumps?

Cath. Call you me daughter? now, I promise you, You've fhew'd a tender fatherly regard,

To wish me wed to one half lunatic;

A mad cap ruffian, and a swearing Jack,

That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.

Pet. Father, 'tis thus; yourself and all the World,
That talk'd of her, have talk'd amiss of her;
If she be curft, it is for policy,

For fhe's not froward, but modeft as the dove:
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;
For patience, fhe will prove a fecond Griffel;
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity.

And to conclude, we've 'greed fo well together,.
That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.

Cath. I'll fee thee hang'd on Sunday firft.

Gre. Hark: Petruchio! fhe fays, fhe'll fee thee hang'd firft.

Tra. Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night, our part!

Pet. Be patient, Sirs, I chufe her for myself;
If fhe and I be pleas'd, what's that to you?
'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
That the fhall ftill be curft in company.
I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe

How much he loves me; oh, the kindeft Kate!

She

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