Puslapio vaizdai
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Would say, your head and butt were head and horn. Vin. Ay, mistress Bride, hath that awaken'd you ? Bian. Ay, but not frighted me, therefore I'll sleep again.

Pet. Nay, that thou shalt not, since you have begun: Have at you for a better jest or two.

Bian. Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush : And then pursue me, as you draw your bow. You are welcome all.

[Exeunt Bianca, Catharine, and Widow.

Pet. She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio, This bird you aim'd at, tho' you hit it not; Therefore, a health to all that shot and miss'd. Tra. Oh, Sir, Lucentio flip'd me like his grey-hound, Which runs himself, and catches for his master. Pet. A good swift Simile, but fomething currish. Tra. 'Tis well, Sir, that you hunted for yourself: 'Tis thought, your deer does hold you at a bay. Bap. Oh, oh, Petruchio, Tranio hits you now. Luc. I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio. Hor. Confefs, confefs, hath he not hit you there? Pet. He has a little gall'd me, I confefs. And as the jeft did glance away from me, 'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright. Bap. Now, in good fadness, fon Petruchio, I think, thou hast the veriest Shrew of all. Pet. Well, I fay, no; and therefore for afsurance, Let's each one fend unto his wife, and he Whose wife is most obedient to come first, When he doth fend for her, shall win the wager.

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5. Swf, befides the original sense of speedy in motion, fignified witty, quick-witted. So in A you like it, the Duke says of the clown, He is very fwift and fententicus. Quick is now used in

almost the same sense, as nimble was in the age after that of our authour. Heylin says of Ha'es, that he had known Laud for a nimble disputant.

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I'll venture so much on my hawk or hound,
But twenty times so much upon my Wife.
Luc. A hundred then.

Hor. Content.

Pet. A match, 'tis done.
Hor. Who shall begin?

Luc. That will I.

Go, Biondello, bid your Mistress come to me.

Bion. I go.

Bap. Son, I'll be your half, Bianca comes.

[Exit.

Luc. I'll have no halves: I'll bear it all myself.

Re-enter Biondello.

How now, what news?

Bion. Sir, my Mistress sends you word

That she is busy, and cannot come.

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Pet. How? she's busy and cannot come, is that an

anfwer?

Gre. Ay, and a kind one too :

Pray God, Sir, your wife fend you not a worse.

Pet. I hope better.

Hor. Sirrah, Biondello, go and intreat my wife to come to me forthwith.

[Exit Biondello.

Pet. Oh, ho! intreat her! nay, then she needs must

come.

Hor. I am afraid, Sir, do you what you can,

Enter Biondello.

Yours will not be intreated: now, where's my wife?
Bion. She says, you have fome goodly jest in hand;

She will not come: the bids you come to her.
Pet. Worse and worse, she will not come!

Oh vile, intolerable, not to be indur'd:

Sirrah, Grumio, go to your Mistress,

Say, I command her to come to me. (Exit Grumio.
Hor. I know her answer.

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Pet. What?

Hor. She will not.

Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there's an end.

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Bap. Now, by my hollidam, here comes Catharine! Cath. What is your will, Sir, that you fend for

me?

Pet. Where is your Sister, and Hortenfio's Wife? Cath. They fit conferring by the parlour fire. Pet. Go fetch them hither; if they deny to come, Swinge me them foundly forth unto their husbands : Away, I say, and bring them hither straight.

[Exit Catharina.

Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.
Hor. And so it is : I wonder, what it bodes.

Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet

life,

And awful rule, and right fupremacy :
And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy.
Bap. Now fair befal thee, good Petruchio!
The wager thou hast won; and I will add
Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns,
Another dowry to another Daughter;
For she is chang'd, as she had never been.
Pet. Nay, I will win my wager better yet,
And show more sign of her obedience,
Her new-built virtue and obedience.

Enter Catharina, Bianca, and Widow.

See, where she comes, and brings your froward wives
As prisoners to her womanly perfuafion :
Catharine, that Cap of yours becomes you not;
Off with that bauble, throw it under foot.

[She pulls off her cap, and throws it down.
Wid.

Wid. Lord, let me never have a cause to figh, 'Till I be brought to such a filly pass.

Bian. Fy, what a foolish duty call you this?
Luc. I would, your duty were as foolish too!
The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca,
Cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time.

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

What duty they owe to 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.
Cath. Fy! fy! unknit that threatning 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-feeming, thick, bereft of beauty;
And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will dain 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 ly'st warm at home, fecure 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, fullen, fower,
And not obedient to his honest will;

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What is she but a foul contending Rebel,
And graceless Traitor to her loving Lord?
I am asham'd, that Women are fo fimple
To offer war where they should kneel for peace;
Or feek for rule, fupremacy, and sway,
When they are bound to ferve, love, and obey.
Why are our bodies foft, and weak and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
But that our foft 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 fee, our launces are but straws,
Our ftrength as weak, our weakness past compare;
That feeming to be most, which we indeed least are.
Then vale 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 toward.
Lur. But a harsh hearing, when women are fro-

ward.

Pet. Come, Kate, we'll to bed;

We three are married, but you two are sped.
'Twas I won the wager, tho' you hit the white;
And being a winner, God give you good night.

[Exeunt Petruchio and Catharine.

Hor. Now go thy ways, thou haft tam'd a curst
Shrew.

6 Though you hit the white.] To hit the white is a phrafe borrowed from archery: the mark

was commonly white. Here it` alludes to the name Bianca or white.

Luc.

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