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Bap. O ho, Petruchio, Tranio hits you now.
Luc. I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio.
Hor. Confess, confess; hath he not hit you here?
Pet. 'A has a little gall'd me, I confess;
And, and as the jest did glance away from me,
'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright.
Bap. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio, I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.
Pet. Well, I say-no: and therefore for assurance,
Let's each one send unto his wife;
And he, whose wife is most obedient
To come at first when he doth send for her,
Shall win the
which we will
propose. Hor. Content;What is the wager? Luc.
Pet. Twenty crowns!
I'll venture so much on my hawk, or hound,
But twenty times so much
upon my wife.
Luc. A hundred then.
A match; 'tis done.
Hor. Who shall begin?
That will I. Go,
mistress come to me.
[Exit, Bap. Son, I will be your half, Bianca comes. Luc. I'll have no halves, I'll bear it all myself.
Sir, my mistress sends
word That she is busy, and she cannot come.
Pet. How! she is busy, and she cannot come!
Is that an answer ?
Ay, and a kind one too:
Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse.
Pet. I hope, better.
Hor. Sirrah, Biondello, go, and entreat my wife To come to me forthwith.
[Exit Biondello. Pet.
O, ho! entreat her!
Nay, then she needs must come.
I am afraid, sir,
Do what you can, yours will not be entreated.
Now, where's my wife?
Bion. She says, you have some goodly jest in hand; She will not come; she bids you come to her.
Pet. Worse and worse; she will not come! O, vile,
Intolerable, not to be endur'd!
Sirrah, Grumio, go to your mistress;
Say, I command her come to me, [Exit Grumio.
Hor. I know her answer.
She will not come. Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.
Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katha-
Kath. What is your will, sir, that you send for
me? Pet. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife? Kath. They sit conferring by the parlour fire.
Pet. Go, fetch them hither; if they deny to come, Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands: Away, 1 say, and bring them hither straight.
[Exit Katharina. Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. Hor. And so it is; I wonder, what it bodes.
Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life,
And awful rule, and right supremacy;
And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy.
Bap. Now fair befall thee, good Petruchio!
The wager thou hast won; and I will add
Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns;
Another dowry to another daughter,
For she is chang’d, as she had never been.
Pet. Nay, I will win my wager better yet;
And show more sign of her obedience,
Her new-built virtue and obedience.
Re-enter KATHARINA, with Bianca and Widow.
See, where she comes; and brings your froward wives
As prisoners to her womanly persuasion.-
Katharine, that cap
becomes you not; Off with that bauble, throw it under foot. [Katharina pulls of' her cap, and throws it down.
Wid. Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh, Till I be brought to such a silly pass !
Bian. Fie! what a foolish duty call you this?
Luc. I would, your duty were as foolish too:
The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca,
Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time
Bian. The more fool you for laying on my duty.
Pet. Katharine, I charge thee, tell these head.
strong women What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. Wid. Come, come, you're mocking; we will have
Pet. Come on, I say; and first begin with her.
Wid. She shall not.
Pet. I say, she shall;—and first begin with her.
Kath. Fie, fie! unknit that threat'ning unkind
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor:
It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads;
Confounds thy fame, as wiirlwinds shake fair
And in no sense is meet, or amiable.
A woman mov'd, is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty;
And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband 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 sea and land;
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe:
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 such, a woman oweth to her husband:
And, when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And, not obedient to his honest will,
What is she, but a foul contending rebel,
And graceless traitor to her loving lord ?-
I am asham'd, that women are so simple,
To offer war where they should kneel for peace;
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.
Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world;
But that our soft 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 reason, haply, more,
To bandy word for word, and frown for frown:
But now, I see our lances are but straws;
Our strength as weak, our weakness past com-
That seeming to be most, which we least are,
Then vail your stomachs 64, 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.