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, Frets call you them? quoth fhe: I'll fume with them: As on a pillory, looking through the lute; And twangling Jack, with twenty fuch vile terms, Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lufty wench; 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? [Exit Bap. with Grem. Horten. and Tranio. Say, that the frowns; I'll fay, fhe looks as clear When When I fhall afk the banes, and when be married? But here fhe comes, and now, Petruchio, speak. 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. angry. Cath. It I be wafpifh, 'beft beware my fting. Cath. Ah, if the fool could find it, where it lies. 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 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 comblefs cock, fo Kate will be my hen. 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, Nor haft thou pleasure to be cross in talk: As Kate this chamber with her princely gait? And then let Kate be chaft, and Dian fportful!- 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, Con Conformable as other houfhold Kates; Wife. Enter Baptifta, Gremio, and Tranio. 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, For fhe's not froward, but modeft as the dove: And to conclude, we've 'greed fo well together,. 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; How much he loves me; oh, the kindeft Kate! She |