Happier the man, whom favourable stars

Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow !

Pet. Happily met; the happier for thy son. And now by law, as well as reverend age, I nray entitle thee my loving father; The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman,

mad:

This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd;
And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is.

Kath. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,
That have been so bedazzled with the sun,
That every thing I look on seemeth green:
Now I perceive thou art a reverend father;
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.

Pet. Do, good old grandsire; and, withal, make known

Which way thou travellest: if along with us,
We shall be joyful of thy company.

Fin. Fair sir,- and you my merry mistress, That with your strange encounter much amaz'd

Nor be not griev'd; she is of good esteem,
Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth;
Beside, so qualified as may beseem
The spouse of any noble gentleman.
Let me embrace with old Vincentio :
And wander we to see thy honest son,
Who will of thy arrival be full joyous..

Vin. But is this true? or is it else your pleasure, Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest Upon the company you overtake?

Hor. I do assure thee, father, so it is. Pet. Come, go along, and see the truth hereof; For our first merriment hath made thee jealous. [Exeunt PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, and VINCENTIO.

Hor. Well, Petruchio, this hath put me in heart. Have to my widow; and if she be forward, Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward.

[Exit.

SCENE L-Padua. Before Lucentio's House. Enter on one side BIONDELLO, LUCENTIO, and BIANCA: GREMIO walking on the other side. B. Softly and swiftly, sir; for the priest is ready.

Lae. I fly, Biondello: but they may chance to need thee at home, therefore leave us.

Bion. Nay, faith, I'll see the church o' your back; and then come back to my master as soon as I can.

[Exeunt LUCENTIO, BIANCA, and BIONDELLO.

Gre. I marvel Cambio comes not all this while.

Enter PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, VINCENTIO, and Attendants.

Pet. Sir, here's the door, this is Lucentio's house, My father's bears more toward the market-place; Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir.

Via. You shall not choose but drink before you
go;

I think, I shall command your welcome here,
And, by all likelihood, some cheer is toward.

[Knocks. Gre. They're busy within, you were best knock louder.

Enter Pedant above, at a window.

Ped. What's he, that knocks as he would beat down the gate?

Via. Is signior Lucentio within, sir? Ped. He's within, sir, but not to be spoken withal

Via. What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two, to make merry withal?

Pel. Keep your hundred pounds to yourself; he shafi need none, so long as I live.

Bion. I have seen them in the church together; God send 'em good shipping! But who is here? mine old master, Vincentio? now we are undone, and brought to nothing.

Vin. Come hither, crack-hemp.

[Seeing BIONDELLO. Bion. I hope, I may choose, sir. Vin. Come, hither, you rogue; What, have you forgot me?

Bion. Forgot you? no, sir: I could not forget you, for I never saw you before in all my life. Vin. What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see thy master's father, Vincentio?

Bion. What, my old, worshipful old master? yes, marry, sir; see where he looks out of the window. Vin. Is't so, indeed ? [Beats BIONDEllo.

Bion. Help, help, help! here's a madman will murder me. [Exit. Ped. Help, son! help, signior Baptista! [Exit, from the window.

Tra. Sir, what are you, that offer to beat my servant?

Vin. What am I, sir? nay, what are you, sir?O immortal gods? O fine villain! A silken doublet! a velvet hose! a scarlet cloak! and a copatain hat! O, I am undone! I am undone! while I play the good husband at home, my son and my servant spend all at the university.

Tra. How now! what's the matter?
Bap. What, is the man lunatick ?

Tra. Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your habit, but your words show you a madman : Why, sir, what concerns it you, if I wear pearl and gold? I thank my good father, I am able to maintain it.

Vin. Thy father? O villain! he is a sail-maker in Bergamo.

Bap. You mistake, sir; you mistake, sir: Pray, what do you think is his name?

Vin. His name? as if I knew not his name: I have brought him up ever since he was three years old, and his name is Tranio.

Ped. Away, away, mad ass! his name is Lucentio; and he is mine only son, and heir to the lands of me, signior Vincentio.

Vin. Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his master!-Lay hold on him, I charge you, in the duke's name: O, my son, my son! tell me, thou villain, where is my son, Lucentio?

Tra. Call forth an officer: [Enter one with an Officer.] carry this mad knave to the gaol: -Father, Baptista, I charge you see, that he be forthcoming. Vin. Carry me to the gaol!

Gre. Stay, officer; he shall not go to prison. Bap. Talk not, signior Gremio; I say, he shall go to prison.

Gre. Take heed, signior Baptista, lest you be coney-catched in this business; I dare swear, this is the right Vincentio.

Ped. Swear, if thou darest.

Gre. Nay, I dare not swear it.

Tra. Then thou wert best say, that I am not Lucentio.

Gre. Yes, I know thee to be signior Lucentio. Bap. Away with the dotard; to the gaol with him. Vin. Thus strangers may be haled and abus'd. O monstrous villain!

Re-enter BIONDELLO, with LUCENTIO and BIANCA. Bion. O, we are spoiled, and - Yonder he is; deny him, forswear him, or else we are all undone. Luc. Pardon, sweet father. [Kneeling. Vin. Lives my sweetest son? [BIONDELLO, TRANIO, and Pedant run out. [Kneeling. How hast thou offended

Bian. Pardon, dear father.
Bap.

Where is Lucentio?

Bap. Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio? Bian. Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio. Made me exchange my state with Tranio, Luc. Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love While he did bear my countenance in the town And happily I have arriv'd at last Unto the wished haven of my bliss: What Tranio did, myself enforc'd him to; Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake. Vin. I'll slit the villain's nose, that would have sent me to the gaol.

Bap. But do you hear, sir? [To LUCENTIO. Have you married my daughter without asking my good-will?

Vin. Fear not, Baptista; we will content you go to:

But I will in, to be revenged for this villainy!

[Ent

Bap. And I, to sound the depth of this knavery [Eri

Luc. Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will no frown. [Exeunt Luc. and BIAN Gre. My cake is dough: But I'll in among the rest Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast. [Eric

PETRUCHIO and Katharina advance. Kath. Husband, let's follow, to see the end o this ado.

Pet. First kiss me, Kate, and we will.
Kath. What, in the midst of the street?
Pet. What, art thou ashamed of me?
Kath. No, sir; God forbid:-but ashamed to kiss
Pet. Why, then, let's home again : — Come, sir
rah, let's away.

Kath. Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now pra

thee, love, stay.

Pet. Is not this well?- Come, my sweet Kate Better once than never, for never too late.

[Exeun

SCENE II. -A Room in Lucentio's House. A Banquet set out. Enter BAPTISTA, VINCENTI GREMIO, the Pedant, LUCENTIO, BIANCA, PE TRUCHIO, KATHARINA, HORTENSIO, and Widow TRANIO, BIONDELLO, GRUMIO, and others, a tending.

Luc. At last, though long, our jarring notes agree And time it is, when raging war is done, To smile at 'scapes and perils overblown. — My fair Bianca, bid my father welcome, While I with self-same kindness welcome thine: Brother Petruchio, sister Katharina, · And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving wid ow,— Feast with the best, and welcome to my house; My banquet is to close our stomachs up, After our great good cheer: Pray you, sit down; For now we sit to chat, as well as eat.

[They sit at tašč Pet. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat! Bap. Padua affords this kindness, son Petruchi Pet. Padua affords nothing but what is kind. Hor. For both our sakes I would that word were tru Pet. Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow Wid. Then never trust me if I be afeard.

Pet. You are sensible, and yet you miss my sense I mean, Hortensio is afcard of you.

Wid. He that is giddy, thinks the world tur

round.

Wid. Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh, Till I be brought to such a silly pass!

Bian. Fye! 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 suppertime.

Bian. The more fool you, for laying on my duty. Pet. Katharine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women,

What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. Wid. Come, come, you're mocking; we will have no telling.

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. Fye, fye! unknit that threat'ning unkind brow;

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 whirlwinds shake fair buds;
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 wil',
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 compare,
That seeming to be most, which we least are.
Then vail your stomachs, 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

Palace.

Enter CAMILLO and ARCHIDAMUS.

Arch. If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my services are now on foot, you shall see, as I have said, great difference betwixt our Bohemia, and your Sicilia.

Cam. I think, this coming summer, the king of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him.

Arch. Wherein our entertainment shall shame us, we will be justified in our loves; for, indeed,— Cam. 'Beseech you,

Arch. Verily, I speak it in the freedom of my knowledge: we cannot with such magnificence in so rare-I know not what to say. - We will give you sleepy drinks; that your senses, unintelligent of our insufficience, may, though they cannot praise us, as little accuse us.

Cam. You pay a great deal too dear, for what's given freely.

Arch. Believe me, I speak as my understanding instructs me, and as mine honesty puts it to utter

hoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection, which cannot choose but branch now. Since their more mature dignities, and royal necessities, made separation of their society, their encounters, though not personal, have been royally attornied, with interchange of gifts, letters, loving embassies; that they have seemed to be together, though absent; shook hands, as over a vast; and embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue their loves!

Arch. I think, there is not in the world either malice, or matter, to alter it. You have an unspeakable comfort of your young prince Mamillius; it is a gentleman of the greatest promise, that ever came into my note.

Cam. I very well agree with you in the hopes of him: It is a gallant child; one that, indeed, physicks the subject, makes old hearts fresh; they, that went on crutches ere he was born, desire yet their life, to see him a man.

Arch. Would they else be content to die? Cam. Yes; if there were no other excuse why they should desire to live.

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