You understand me, sir ;-so shall you stay
Till you have done your business in the city:
If this be courtesy, sir, accept of it.

Ped. 0, sir, I do; and will repute you ever
The patron of my life and liberty.

Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter good. This, by the way, I let you understand ;My father is here look'd for every day, To pass assurance 5 of a dower in marriage 'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here: In all these circumstances I'll instruct you: Go with me, sir, to clothe you as becomes you.


SCENE III. A Room in Petruchio's House.

Enter KATHARINA and GRUMIO. Gru. No, no; forsooth; I dare not, for my life. Kath. The more my wrong, the more his spite

appears : What, did he marry me to famish me? Beggars, that come unto my father's door, Upon entreaty, have a present alms; If not, elsewhere they meet with charity : But I,—who never knew how to entreat, Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep: With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed : And that which spites me more than all these wants, He does it under name of perfect love; As who should say,—if I should sleep, or eat, "Twere deadly sickness, or else present death.

5 i. e. to agree upon a settlement of dower; Dotem firmare. Deeds are by law-writers called the common assurances of the realm, because thereby each man's property is assured to him. So in a subsequent scene :-- they are busied about a counterfeit assurance,

Wheru. I canke it wellripe, finely

I pry’thee go, and get me some repast;
I care not what, so it be wholesome food.

Gru. What say you to a neat's foot!
Kath. 'Tis passing good; I pr’ythee let me have it.

Gru. I fear, it is too cholerick a meat:-
How say you to a fat tripe, finely broild ? .

Kath. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me.

Gru. I cannot tell; I fear, 'tis cholerick.
What say you to a piece of beef, and mustard ?

Kath. A dish that I do love to feed upon.
Gru. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little 1.
Kath. Why, then the beef, and let the mustard rest.
Gru. Nay, then I will not; you shall have the

Or else you get no beef of Grumio.

Kath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt,
Gru. Why, then the mustard without the beef.
Kath. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding

[Beats him,
That feed’st me with the very name of meat:
Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you,
That triumph thus upon my misery!
Go, get thee gone, I say.
Enter PETRUChio with a dish of meat; and

Pet. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all

amort?? 1 This is agreeable to the doctrine of the times. In The Glasse of Humours, no date, p. 60, it is said, “But note here, that the first diet is not only in avoiding superfluity of meats, and surfeits of drinks, but also in eschewing such as are obnoxious, and least agreeable with our happy temperate state ; as for a cholerick man to abstain from all salt, scorched, dry meats, from mustard, and such like things as will aggravate his malignant humours. Petruchio before objects to the overroasted mutton.

? That is, all sunk and dispirited. This gallicism is frequent in many of the old plays.


Hor. Mistress, what cheer?

'Faith, as cold as can be. Pet. Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon

me. Here, love; thou see'st how diligent I am, To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee:

Sets the dish on a table. I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. What, not a word ? Nay then, thou loy’st it not; And all my pains is sorted to no 'proof: Here, take away this dish. Kath.

Pray you, let it stand. Pet. The poorest service is repaid with thanks; And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.

Kath. I thank you, sir.

Hor. Signior Petruchio, fye! you are to blame! Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company. Pet. Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lov'st me.

[Aside. Much good do it unto thy gentle heart! Kate, eat apace:--And now, my honey love, Will we return unto thy father's house; And revel it as bravely as the best, With silken coats, and caps, and golden rings, With ruffs, and cuffs, and farthingales, and things; With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bra

veryo, With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery.

3 ? And all my labour has ended in nothing, or proved nothing,' says Johnson. This can hardly be right. Mr. Douce's suggestion, that it means 'all my labour is adapted to no approof,' is much better; indeed there can be no doubt that we should read 'proof with a mark of elision for approof ; but sort is used in the sense of sorter, French, to issue, to terminate. “It sorled not is frequently used by writers of that period for, It did not end so, or It did not answer. Shakspeare uses sort for lot, chance, more than once.

4 Finery

What, hast thou din'd? The tailor stays thy leisure,
To deck thy body with his ruffling 5 treasure.

Enter Tailor.
Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments;

Enter Haberdasher.
Lay forth the gown.—What news with you, sir ?

Hab. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.

Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer?
A velvet dish;—fye, fye! 'tis lewd and filthy :
Why, 'tis a cockle, or a walnutshell,
A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap;
Away with it, come, let me have a bigger.

Kath. I'll have no bigger; this doth fit the time, And gentlewomen wear such caps as these.

Pet. When you are gentle, you shall have one too, And not till then.

Hor. That will not be in haste. [Aside.

Kath. Why, sir, I trust, I may have leave to speak; And speak I will; I am no child, no babe: Your betters have endur'd me say my mind; And, if you cannot, best you stop your ears. My tongue will tell the anger of my heart; Or else my heart, concealing it, will break: And, rather than it shall, I will be free Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.

Pet. Why, thou say’st true; it is a paltry cap, A custard-coffino, a bauble, a silken pie: I love thee well, in that thou lik’st it not.

5 To ruffle, in Shakspeare's time, signified to flaunt, to strut, to swagger. In Jonson's Cynthia's Revels, Act iii. Sc. ult. Amorphus says:

• Lady, I cannot ruffle it in blue and yellow.' Ruffling treasure was therefore obviously the flaunting finery which Petruchio had just enumerated. In the poet's time women's apparel was usually made by men.

6 A coffin was the culinary term for the raised crust of a pie or custard.

Kath. Love me, or love me not, I like the cap; And it I will have, or I will have none. Pet. Thy gown? why, ay:—Come, tailor, let us

see't. O mercy, God! what masking stuff is here? What's this ? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon: What! up and down, cary'd like an apple-tart? Here's snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash, Like to a censer7 in a barber's shop:Why, what, o’devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this ? Hor. I see, she's like to have neither cap nor gown.

[Aside. Tai. You bid me make it orderly and well, According to the fashion, and the time.

Pet. Marry, and did; but if you be remember'd, I did not bid you mar it to the time. Go, hop me over every kennel home, For you shall hop without my custom, sir: I'll none of it; hence, make your best of it.

Kath. I never saw a better-fashion'd gown, More quainte, more pleasing, nor more commendable; Belike, you mean to make a puppet of me.

Pet. Why, true; he means to make a puppet of


Tai. She says, your worship means to make a puppet of her. Pet. O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou

thread, Thou thimble, Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail, Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter cricket thou :Brav'd in mine own house with a skein of thread!

7 These censers resembled our brasiers in shape, they had pierced convex covers.

8 Quaint was used as a term of commendation by our ancestors. It seems, when applied to dress, to have meant spruce, trim, neat, like the French cointe.

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