Puslapio vaizdai

Curt. This is to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.

Gru. And therefore 'tis call'd a fenfible tale: and this cuff was but to knock at your ear, and befeech liftning. Now I begin: imprimis, we came down a foul hill, my master riding behind my mistress.

Curt. Both on one horse?

Gru. What's that to thee?
Curt. Why, a horse.

But hadft thou not

Gru. Tell thou the tale. croft me, thou should'ft have heard how her horfe fell, and the under her horfe: thou should'ft have heard in how miry a place, how fhe was bemoil'd, how he left her with the horfe upon her, how he beat me because her horfe ftumbled, how the waded through the dirt to pluck him off me; how he fwore, how the pray'd that never pray'd before; how I cry'd; how the horses ran away; how her bridle was burft; how I loft my crupper; with many things of worthy memory, which now fhall die in oblivion, and thou return unexperienc'd to thy grave.

Curt. By this reckoning he is more fhrew than fhe. Gru. Ay, and that you and the proudeft of you all fhall find, when he comes home. But what talk I of this call forth Nathaniel, Jofeph, Nicholas, Philip, Walter, Sugarfop, and the reft: let their heads be fleekly comb'd, their blue coats brufh'd, and their garters of an indifferent knit; let them curt'fy with their left legs, and not prefume to touch a hair of my mafter's horfe-tail, 'till they kifs their hands. Are they all ready?

Curt. They are.

Gru. Call them forth.

Curt. Do you hear, ho? you must meet my master to countenance my mistress.

9 Garters of an indifferent knit.] What is the fenfe of this I know not, unless it means,

that their Garters should be fillows; indifferent, or not different, one from the other.


Gru. Why, fhe hath a face of her own.

Curt. Who knows not that?

Gru. Thou, it seems, that call'd for company to countenance her.

Curt. I call them forth to credit her.

Enter four or five Serving-men.

Gru. Why, fhe comes to borrow nothing of them. Nath. Welcome home, Grumio.

Phil. How now, Grumio?

Jof. What, Grumio!

Nich. Fellow Grumio!

Nath. How now, old lad?

Gru. Welcome, you; how now, you; what, you; fellow, you; and thus much for greeting. Now, my fpruce companions, is all ready, and all things neat? Nath. All things are ready; how near is our mafter? Gru. E'en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore, cock's paffion, filence! I hear my -I

be notmaster.


Enter Petruchio and Kate.

Pet. Where be thefe knaves? what, no man at door to hold my stirrup, nor to take my horfe? where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip?

All Serv. Here, here, Sir; here, Sir.

Pet. Here, Sir, here, Sir, here, Sir, here, Sir? You loggerheaded and unpolifh'd grooms: What? no attendance? no regard? no duty? Where is the foolish knave I fent before?

Gru. Here, Sir, as foolish as I was before.

Pet. You peasant fwain, you whorefon, malt-horse drudge,

Did not I bid thee meet me in the park,

And bring along thefe rafcal knaves with thee?



Gru. Nathaniel's coat, Sir, was not fully made:
And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i'th' heel :
There was no link to colour Peter's hat,


And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing:
There were none fine, but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory
The refl were ragged, old and beggarly,

Yet as they are, here are they come to meet you.
Pet. Go, rafcals, go, and fetch my fupper in.

Where is the life that late I led?

[Exeunt Servants. [Singing.

Where are thofe — fit down, Kate,

And welcome. Soud, foud, foud, soud!

Enter Servants with Supper.

Why, when, I say? nay, good sweet Kate, be merry.
Off with my boots, you rogue: you villains, when?

It was the Friar of Orders grey,
As be forth walked on his way.


Out, out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry.
Take that, and mind the plucking off the other.
[Strikes bim.
Be merry, Kate: fome water, here; what hoa!

Enter one with water.

Where's my spaniel Troilus? firrah, get you hence,
And bid my coufin Ferdinand come hither:

One, Kate, that you must kifs, and be acquainted with.
Where are my flippers; fhall I have fome water?
Come, Kate, and wafh, and welcome heartily :
You, whorefon villain, will you let it fall?

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Cath. Patience, I pray you, 'twas a fault unwilling.
Pet. A whorefon, beatle-headed, flap-ear'd knave:

no link to colour Peter's
bat,] Link, I believe, is
the fame with what we now call
lamp black.


-Soud, foud, &c.] That

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is, fweet, sweet. Soot, good, and fometimes footb, is Jawest. So in Milton, to fing feetby, is, to fing sweetly.


Come, Kate, fit down; I know, you have a ftomach. Will you give thanks, fweet Kate, or elfe fhall I? What's this, mutton?

1 Ser. Yes.

Pet. Who brought it?
Ser. I

Pet. 'Tis burnt, and fo is all the meat:
What dogs are these? where is the rafcal cook ?
How durit you, villains, bring it from the dreffer,
And ferve it thus to me that love it not?
There, take it to you, trenchers, cups and all:

[Throws the meat, &c. about the Stage.
You heedlefs jolt-heads, and unmanner'd slaves!
What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight.
Cath. I pray you, husband, be not fo difquiet;
The meat was well, if you were fo contented.
Pet. I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dry'd away,
And I exprefly am forbid to touch it :

For it engenders choler, planteth anger;
And better 'twere, that both of us did fast,
Since, of ourselves, ourselves are cholerick,
Then feed it with fuch over-rofted flesh :
Be patient, for to morrow't fhall be mended,
And for this night we'll faft for company.
Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chainber. [Exeunt.

Enter Servants feverally.

Nath. Peter, didft ever fee the like?
Peter. He kills her in her own humour.
Gru. Where is he?

Enter Curtis, a Servant.

Curt. In her chamber, making a fermon of continency to her,

And rails and fwears, and rates; that fhe, poor foul, Knows not which way to ftand, to look, to speak,




And fits as one new-rifen from a dream.

Away, away, for he is coming hither.


Enter Petruchio.



Pet. Thus have I politickly begun my reign,
And 'tis my hope to end fuccefsfully:
My faulcon now is fharp, and paffing empty,
And till fhe ftoop, fhe muft not be full-gorg'd,
For then she never looks upon her lure.
Another way I have to man my haggard, 3
To make her come, and know her keeper's Call:
That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites,
That bait and beat, and will not be obedient.
She ate no meat to day, nor none shall eat.
Laft night she slept not, nor to night shall not:
As with the meat, fome undeserved fault
I'll find about the making of the bed.
And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolfter,
This way the coverlet, that way the sheets;
Ay; and, amid this hurly, I'll pretend,
That all is done in reverend care of her,
And, in conclufion, fhe fhall watch all night:
And, if the chance to nod, I'll rail and brawl,
And with the clamour keep her still awake.
This is a way to kill a wife with kindness

And thus I'll curb her mad and headftrong humour.
He that knows better how to tame a Shrew,

Now let him speak, 'tis charity to fhew.

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to man my baggard,] A baggard is a wild bawk; to hawk is to tame her.


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