I will with you, if you be fo contented,
Forfweare Bianca, and her loue for euer.

Hor. See how they kiffe and court: fignior Lucentio,
Heere is my hand, and heere I firmly vow,
Neuer to woo her more, but do forfweare her
As one vnworthy all the former fauors
That I haue fondly flatter'd them withall.

Tra. And heere I take the like vnfained oath, Neuer to marrie with her, though fhe would intreate, Fie on her, fee how beaftly fhe doth court him.

Hor. Would all the world but he had quite forfworne For me, that I may furely keepe mine oath.

I will be married to a wealthy widdow,

Ere three dayes paffe, which hath as long lou'd me,
As I haue lou'd this proud difdainfull haggard,
And fo farewell fignior Lucentio,

Kindnesse in women, not their beauteous lookes
Shall win my loue, and fo I take my leaue,

In refolution, as I fwore before.

Tra. Miftris Bianca, bleffe you with fuch grace,

As longeth to a louers bleffed cafe:

Nay, I haue tane you napping gentle loue,

And haue forfworne you with Hortenfio.

Bian. Tranio you iest, but haue you both forfworne me? Tra. Miftris we haue.

Luc. Then we are rid of Lifio.

Tra. I'faith hee'l haue à luftie widdow now,

That shall be woo'd, and wedded in a day.

Bian. God giue him ioy.

Tra. I, and hee'l tame her.

Bian. He fayes fo Tranio.

Tra. Faith he is gon vnto the taming schoole.

Bian. The taming fchoole: what is there fuch a place?

Tra.

Tra. I miftris, and Petruchio is the master,
That teacheth trickes eleuen and twentie long,
To tame a fhrew, and charme her chattering tongue.

Enter Biondello.

Bion. Oh master, master I haue watcht fo long,
That I am dogge-wearie, but at last I spied

An antient angell comming downe the hill,
Will ferue the turne.

Tra. What is he Biondello?

Bion. Master, a marcantant, or a pedant,
I know not what, but formall in apparell,
In gate and countenance furely like a father.
Luc. And what of him Tranio?

Tra. If he be credulous, and truft my tale,
Ile make him glad to feeme Vincentio,

And giue affurance to Baptifta Minola,

As if he were the right Vincentio.

Par. Take me your loue, and then let me alone.

Enter a Pedant.

Ped. God faue you fir.

Tra. And you fir, you are welcome,

Trauaile you farre on or are you at the farthest ?

Ped. Sir at the farthest for a weeke or two,

But then vp farther, and as farre as Rome,
And fo to Tripolie, if God lend me life.
Tra. What countreyman I pray?
Ped. Of Mantua.

Tra. Of Mantua fir, marrie God forbid,

And come to Padua carelesse of your life.

Ped. My life fir? how I pray? for that goes hard.

Tra.

Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua
To come to Padua, know you not the cause?
Your fhips are ftaid at Venice, and the duke
For priuate quarrell 'twixt your duke and him,
Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly:
'Tis maruaile, but that you are but newly come,
You might haue heard it elfe proclaim'd about.

Ped. Alas fir, it is worfe for me then fo,
For I haue bills for monie by exchange
From Florence and must heere deliuer them.
Tra. Well fir, to doe you courtefie,
This will I doe, and this will I aduise

you.

First tell me, haue you euer beene at Pifa?

Ped. I fir, in Pifa haue I often bin,

Pifa renowned for graue citizens.

Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio ?

Ped. I know him not, but I haue heard of him :

A merchant of incomparable wealth.

Tra. He is my father fir, and footh to say,

In count'nance fomewhat doth resemble you.

Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all one.

Tra. To faue your life in this extremitie,

This fauor will I doe you for his fake,

And thinke it not the worst of all your fortunes,

That you are like to Sir Vincentio.

His name and credit fhall you vndertake,

And in my houfe you fhall be friendly lodg'd,
Looke that you take vpon you as you should,
You vnderstand me fir: fo fhall you stay
Till you haue done your bufineffe in the citie:
If this be court'fie fir, accept of it.

Ped. Oh fir I doe, and will repute you euer
The patron of my life and libertie.

Tra.

Tra. Then goe with me, to make the matter good,
This by the way I let you vnderstand,
My father is heere look'd for euerie day,
To paffe affurance of a dowre in marriage
'Twixt me, and one Baptiftas daughter heere:
In all these circumstances Ile inftruct you,
Goe with me to cloath you as becomes you.

Actus Quartus. Scœna Prima.

Enter Katherina and Grumio.

Gru. No, no forfooth I dare not for my life.

Exeunt

Kat. The more my wrong, the more his spite appeares. What, did he marrie me to famish me?

Beggers that come vnto my fathers doore,
Vpon intreatie haue a prefent almes,

If not, elsewhere they meete with charitie :
But I, who neuer knew how to intreate,
Nor neuer needed that I fhould intreate,

Am ftaru'd for meate, giddie for lacke of fleepe:
With oathes kept waking, and with brawling fed,
And that which fpights me more then all these wants,
He does it vnder name of perfect loue:

As who fhonld fay if I should sleepe or eate,
'Twere deadly ficknesse, or else present death.
I prethee goe, and get me fome repaft,
I care not what, fo it be wholfome foode.

Gru. What fay you to a neats foote?

Kate. 'Tis paffing good, I prethee let me haue it.
Gru. I feare it is too chollericke a meate,
How fay you to a fat tripe finely broyl'd?
Kate. I like it well, good Grumio fetch it me.

Gru.

Gru. I cannot tell, I feare 'tis chollericke. What fay you to a peece of beefe and mustard? Kate. A difh that I do loue to feede vpon. Gru. I but the muftard is too hot a little.

Kate. Why then the beefe, and let the mustard rest.
Gru. Nay then I will not, you shall haue the mustard
Or else you get no beefe of Grumio.

Kate. Then both or one, or any thing thou wilt.
Gru. Why then the muftard without the beefe.
Kate. Go get thee gone, thou falfe deluding flaue,

That feed'ft me with the verie name of meate.
Sorrow on thee, and all the packe of you

That triumph thus vpon my miferie:

Go get thee gone I say.

Beats him.

Enter Petruchio, and Hortenfio with meate.

Petr. How fares my Kate, what fweeting all a-mort?
Hor. Miftris, what cheere?

Kate. Faith as cold as can be.

Pet. Plucke vp thy fpirits, looke cheerefully vpon me. Heere loue, thou feeft how diligent I am,

To dreffe thy meate myselfe, and bring it thee.

I am fure fweet Kate, this kindneffe merits thankes.
What, not a word? nay then thou lou'ft it not:
And all my paines is forted to no proofe.
Heere take away this dish.

Kate. I pray you let it stand.

Pet. The pooreft feruice is repaide with thankes, And fo fhall mine before you touch the meate.

Kate. I thanke you fir.

Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie you are to blame : Come miftris Kate, Ile beare you companie.

Petr.