Your husband there, my taming recipe.
Katharine, I charge thee, tell this headstrong woman,
What duty 't is she owes her lord and husband.
Kat. Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
E'en such a woman oweth to her husband.
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper;
One that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance: commits his body
To painful labour, both by sea and land,
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
While thou ly'st warm at home, secure and safe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands,
Bút love, fair looks, and true obedience ;
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Pet. Well said, my Kate -You'll learn that
lesson, lady.
Bap. Now joy betide thee, son Petruchio! And fair befall thee, my now gentle Katharine !Go home with me along, and I will add
Another fortune to another daughter;
For thou art chang'd, as thou hadst never been.
Pet. My fortune is sufficient :-Here's my wealth.
Kiss me, my Kate; and, since thou art become
So prudent, kind, and dutiful a wife,
Petruchio here shall doff the lordly husband;
An honest mask, which I throw off with pleasure,
Far hence all rudeness, wilfulness, and noise,
And be our future lives one gentle stream
Of mutual love, compliance, and regard!
Kat. Nay, then I'm all unworthy of thy love,
And look with blushes on my former self.-
How shameful't is, when women are so simple,
To offer war, where they should kneel for peace;
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,
Where bound to love, to honour, and obey!
S. GOSNELL, Printer, Little Queen Street, London.