Have you married my daughter without asking my good-will? Vin. Fear not, Baptista; we will content you, go to: But I will in, to be revenged for this villainy. [Exit. Bap. And I, to sound the depth of this knavery. [Exit. [Exeunt Luc. and BIAN. Gre. My cake is dough: But I'll in among the Luc. Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown. rest; Out of hope of all,-but my share of the feast. PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA advance. [Exit. Kath. Husband, let's follow, to see the end of this ado. Pet. First kiss me, Kate, and we will. Kath. No, sir; God forbid :—but ashamed to kiss, Pet. Why, then let's home again:-Come, sirrah, let's away. Kath. Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now pray thee, love, stay. Pet. Is not this well?-Come, my sweet Kate; Better once than never, for never too late. [Exeunt. 7 My cake is dough:] A phrase generally used when any project miscarried, or rather when any disappointment was sustained, contrary to every appearance or expectation. 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, While I with self-same kindness welcome thine :- And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow,- 8 After our great good cheer: Pray you, sit down; [They sit at table. true. Pet. Now, for my life, Hortensio fears his widow." My banquet-] A banquet, or (as it is called in some of our old books,) an after past, was a slight refection, like our modern desert, consisting of cakes, sweetmeats, and fruit. 9 fears his widow.] To fear, as has been already observed, meant in our author's time both to dread, and to intimidate. The widow understands the word in the latter sense; and Petruchio tells her, he used it in the former. MALONE. Wid. Then never trust me if I be afeard. Pet. You are sensible, and yet you miss my sense; I mean, Hortensio is afeard of you. Wid. He that is giddy, thinks the world turns round. Pet. Roundly replied. Kath. Mistress, how mean you that? Wid, Thus I conceive by him. Pet. Conceives by me!-How likes Hortensio that? Hor. My widow says, thus she conceives her tale. Pet. Very well mended: Kiss him for that, good widow. Kath. He that is giddy, thinks the world turns I pray you, tell me what you meant by that. Wid.. Right, I mean you. Kath. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you. - Pet. To her, Kate! Hor. To her, widow! Pet. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down. Hor. That's my office, Pet. Spoke like an officer:-Ha' to thee, lad. [Drinks to HORTENSIO. Bap. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks? Gre. Believe me, sir, they butt together well, Bian. Head, and butt? an hasty-witted body 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 you shall not; since you have begun, Have at you for a bitter 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, KATHARINA, and Widow. Pet. She hath prevented me.-Here, signior Tranio, This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not; hound, Which runs himself, and catches for his master. here? Pet. 'A has a little gall'd me, I confess; you Pet. Well, I say-no: and therefore, for assu rance, Let's each one send unto his wife; And he, whose wife is most obedient To come at first when he doth send for her, Shall win the wager which we will propose. Pet. Twenty crowns! Twenty crowns. that gird,] A gird is a sarcasm, a gibe. I'll venture so much on my hawk, or hound, Luc. A hundred then. `[Exit. Luc. Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. Bion. I go. Bap. Son, I will be your half, Bianca comes. Luc. I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself. Re-enter BIONDELLO. How now! what news? Bion. Sir, my mistress sends That she is busy, and she cannot come. Pêt. How! she is busy, and she cannot come! Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. Hor. Sirrah, Biondello, go, and entreat my wife To come to me forthwith. Pet. [Exit BIONDELLO. O, ho! entreat her! Nay, then she must needs come. Hor. I am afraid, sir, Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. Now where's Re-enter BIONDELLO. my wife? Bion. She says, you have some goodly jest in hand; She will not come; she bids you come to her. Pet. Worse and worse; she will not come! O vile, Intolerable, not to be endur'd! |