And then let Kate be chaft, and Dian sportful!
Cath. Where did you study all this goodly fpeech?
Pet. It is extempore, from my mother-wit.
Cath. A witty mother, witless else 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 aside,
Thus in plain terms: your father hath confented,
That you shall be my wife; your dow❜ry '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,
Conformable as other houfhold Kates;
Here comes your father, never make denial,
I muft and will have Catharine to my Wife.
Enter Baptifta, Gremio, and Tranio. Bap. Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?
Pet. How but well, Sir? how but well? It were impoffible, I fhould fpeed arnifs.
Bap. Why, how now daughter Catharine, in your dumps?
Catb. Call you me daughter? now, I promise you, You've fhew'd a tender fatherly regard,
To with me wed to one half lunatick;
A madcap ruffian, and a fwearing 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 amifs of her; If fhe be curft, it is for policy;
For fhe's not froward, but modest as the dove :
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;
For patience, he 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 first.
Gre. Hark: Petruchio! fhe fays, fhe'll fee thee hang'd first.
Tra. Is this your speeding? nay, then, good night, our part!
Pet. Be patient, Sirs, I chufe her for myself;
If the and I be pleas'd, what's that to you?
'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
That fhe fhall ftill be curft in company.
I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe
How much he loves me; oh, the kindeft Kate!-
She hung about my neck, and kifs on kifs *
She vy'd fo faft, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twink she won me to her love.
Oh, you are novices; 'tis a world to fee,
How tame, (when men and women are alone)
A meacock wretch can make the curfteft fhrew.
Give me thy hand, Kate, I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day;
Father, provide the feast, and bid the guests;
I will be fure, my Catbarine fhall be fine.
Bap. I know not what to say, but give your hands; God fend you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match.
Gre. Tra. Amen, fay we; we will be witnesses.
Pet. Father, and Wife, and Gentlemen, adieu,
I will to Venice, Sunday comes apace,
We will have rings and things, and fine array;
And kifs me, Kare, we will be married o'Sunday.
[Ex. Petruchio, and Catharine feverally.
She vy'd fo faft, I know not that the word vie has any conftruction that will fuit this
place; we may easily read,
Kifs on kifs
She ply'd fo faft.
Gre. Was ever match clapt up fo fuddenly?
Bap. Faith, gentlemen, I play a merchant's part,
And venture madly on a defperate mart.
Tra. 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you;
'Twill bring you gain, or perifh on the feas.
Bap The gain I feek is quiet in the match.
Gre. No doubt, but he hath got a quiet catch:
But now, Baptifta, to your younger daughter;
Now is the day we long have look'd for:
I am your neighbour, and was fuitor first,
Tra. And I am one, that love Bianca more
Than words can witnefs, or your thoughts can guess,
Gre. Youngling! thou canst not love fo dear as I,
Tra. Grey-beard! thy love doth freeze.
Gre. But thine doth fry'.
Skipper, ftand back; 'tis age that nourisheth.
Tra. But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth.
Bap. Content you, Gentlemen, I will compound this
ftrife;
'Tis deeds muft win the prize; and he, of both,
That can affure my daughter greatest dower,
Shall have Bianca's love.
Say, Signior Gremio, what can you affure her?
Gre. First, as you know, my house within the city
Is richly furnished with plate and gold,
Bafons and ewers to lave her dainty hands:
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;
In ivory coffers I have ftuft my crowns;
In cypress chefts my arras, counterpoints,
Coftly apparel, tents and canopies,
Fine linen, Turkey cufhions bofs'd with pearl;
Valance of Venice gold in needle-work;
Pewter and brafs, and all things that belong
To house, or houfe-keeping: then, at my farm,
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Sixfcore fat oxen ftanding in my stalls;
And all things anfwerable to this portion.
Myself am ftruck in years, I must confefs,
And if I die to morrow, this is hers;
If, whilft I live, fhe will be only mine.
Tra. That only come well in
I am my father's heir, and only fon;
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
I'll leave her houfes three or four as good,
Within rich Pifa walls, as any one
Old Signior Gremio has in Padua ;
Befides two thousand ducats by the year
Of fruitful land; all which fhall be her jointure.
What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio?
Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year of land!
My land amounts to but fo much in all :
That she shall have, befides an Argofie
negative in the second line falves the abfurdity, and fets. the paffage right. Gremio and Tranio are vyeing in their offers to carry Bianca: The latter boldly proposes to fettle land to the amount of two thousand ducats per annum. My whole estate, says the other, in land, amounts but to that value; yet she shall have that: I'll endow her with the whole; and confign a rich veffel to her ufe, over and above. Thus all is intelligible, and he goes on to outbid his rival. WARBURT.
That now is lying in Marfeilles's road.
What, have I choak'd you with an Argofie?
Tra. Gremio, 'tis known, my father hath no less
Than three great Argofies, befides two galliaffes
And twelve tight gallies; thefe I will affure her,
And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next.
Gre. Nay, I have offer'd all; I have no more;
And the can have no more than all I have;
If you like me, she shall have me and mine.
Tra. Why, then the maid is mine from all the world,
By your firm promife; Gremio is out-vied.
Bap. I muft confefs, your offer is the best;
And let your father make her the affurance,
She is your own, elfe you must pardon me:
If you should die before him, where's her dower?
Tra. That's but a cavil; he is old, I young.
Gre. And may not young men die, as well as old?
Bap. Well, Gentlemen, then I am thus refolv'd:
On Sunday next, you know,
My daughter Catharine is to be married:
Now on the Sunday following fhall Bianca
Be bride to you, if you make this affurance;
If not, to Signior Gremio:
And fo I take my leave, and thank you both. [Exit.
Gre. Adieu, good neighbour.-Now I fear thee not':
Sirrah, young gamefter, your father were a fool
To give thee all; and in his waining age
Set foot under thy table: tut! a toy!
An old Italian fox is not fo kind, my boy.
Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide! Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten 3:
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