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SCENE II.-A Room in LUCENTIO's House. A Banquet set out. Enter BAPTISTA, VINCENTIO, GREMIO, the Pedant, LUCENTIO, BIANCA, PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, HORTENSIO, and Widow. TRANIO, BIONDELLO, GRUMIO, and Others, attending.
Luc. At last, though long, our jarring notes agree:
And time it is, when raging war is done,
Brother Petruchio, sister Katharina,
For now we sit to chat as well as eat.
[They sit at table Pet. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat!
[Exeunt BIANCA, KATHARINA, and Widow. Pet. She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio;
This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not:
Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd. Tra. O sir! Lucentio slipp'd me, like his greyhound,
Which runs himself, and catches for his master. Pet. A good swift simile, but something currish.
Tra. 'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself:
Tis thought your deer does hold you at a bay. 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, 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,
Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. 76 Bion. I go. [Exit. Bap. Son, I will be your half, Bianca comes. Luc. I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself.
How now! what news?
Bion. Sir, my mistress sends you word That she is busy and she cannot come. Pet. How! she is busy, and she cannot come! Is that an answer? Gre.
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
Kath. Fie, fie! unknit that threatening unkind brow,
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor: It blots thy beauty as frosts do 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,
Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
And when she's froward, peevish, sullen,
And not obedient to his honest will,
Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth,
Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de Narbon?
Laf. You shall find of the king a husband, madam; you, sir, a father. He that so generally is at all times good, must of necessity hold his Count. His sole child, my lord; and be virtue to you, whose worthiness would stir it up queathed to my overlooking. I have those hopes where it wanted rather than lack it where there of her good that her education promises: he is such abundance. 12 dispositions she inherits, which makes fair gift Count. What hope is there of his majesty's fairer; for where an unclean mind carries vir amendment? tuous qualities, there commendations go with pity; they are virtues and traitors too: in he they are the better for their simpleness; she de rives her honesty and achieves her goodness. 5 Laf. Your commendations, madam, get fron her tears.
Laf. He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practices he hath persecuted time with hope, and finds no other advantage in the process but only the losing of hope by time.
19 Count. This young gentlewoman had a father, O, that 'had!' how sad a passage 'tis!whose skill was almost as great as his honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would, for the king's sake, he were living! I think it would be the death of the king's disease.
Laf. How called you the man you speak of, madam?
Count. He was famous, sir, in his profession,
Count. "Tis the best brine a maiden can sea son her praise in. The remembrance of he father never approaches her heart but th tyranny of her sorrows takes all livelihood fron her cheek. No more of this, Helena, go to, n more; lest it be rather thought you affect sorrow, than have it.
Hel. I do affect a sorrow indeed, but I hav