*** ***** ACT V. SCENE I. Petruchio's Country-house. Enter Catharina, and Grumio. GRUMIO. O, no, forfooth, I dare not for my life. N° Cath. The more my wrong, the more his fpite appears : What, did he marry me to famish me? As who would fay, if I should sleep, or eat, Gru. What say you to a neat's foot? Cath. 'Tis paffing good; I pr'ythee, let me have it. How fay you to a fat tripe finely broil'd? Cath. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me. What say you to a piece of beef and mustard? Cath. Why, then the beef, and let the mustard rest. Gru. Gru. Nay then, I will not; you shall have the mustard, Cath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt. Cath. Go, get thee gone, thou falfe deluding flave, [beats him. That feed'ft 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 and Hortenfio with meat. Pet. How fares my Kate? what, fweeting, all amort? Cath. 'Faith, as cold as can be. Pet. Pluck up thy fpirits; look cheerfully upon me; Here, love, thou feeft how diligent I am, To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee: I'm fure, fweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. Cath. Pray, let it stand. Pet. The pooreft service is repay'd with thanks, Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame : Pet. Eat it up all, Hortenfio, if thou lovest me.— Much good do it unto thy gentle heart! Kate, eat apace: and now, my honey love, [afide. With filken coats, and caps, and golden rings, With ruffs, and cuffs, and farthingales, and things: Lay forth the gown. What news with you, fir? ha! A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap. Cath. I'll have no bigger, this doth fit the time, And gentlewomen wear fuch caps as these. Pet. When you are gentle, you shall have one too, And not till then. Hor. That will not be in hafte. Cath. Why, fir, I truft, I may have leave to speak ; Pet. Why, thou fay'ft true, it is a paltry cap, Cath. Love me, or love me not, I like the cap; [afide. And And I will have it, or I will have none. Pet. Thy gown? why, ay; come, tailor, let us see't. What, up and down carv'd like an apple-tart? Here's fnip, and nip, and cut, and flish, and flash, Like to a censer in a barber's shop: Why, what o'devil's name, tailor, call'ft thou this? Pet. Marry, and did: but, if you be remember'd, Go, hop me over every kennel home, For you shall hop without my custom, fir: More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable: Pet. Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee. [afide. Tai. She fays, your worship means to make a puppet of her. Thou lieft, thou thread, thou thimble thou! thou lieft, Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter cricket thou! Tai. Your worship is deceiv'd, the gown is made Grumio gave order how it fhould be done. Gru. I gave him no order, I gave him the stuff. Tai. But did you not request to have it cut? Gru. Thou haft fac'd many things. Tai. I have. Gru. Face not me: thou haft brav'd many men; brave not me: I will neither be fac'd nor brav'd. I fay unto thee, I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces: ergo, thou lieft. Tai. Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify. Gru. The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so. Tai. Imprimis, a loofe-bodied gown. Gru. Master, if ever I faid, loose-bodied gown, few me up in the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom of brown thread: I faid, a gown. Pet. Proceed. Tai. With a small compaft cape. Gru. I confefs the cape. Tai. With a trunk fleeve. Pet. Ay, there's the villany. Gru. Errour i'th' bill, fir, errour i'th' bill: I commanded the sleeves should be cut out, and few'd up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble. Tai. This is true that I fay, an I had thee in place where, thou fhould't know it. Gru. I am for thee ftraight: take thou the bill, give me thy meteyard, and spare me not. Hor. God-amercy, Grumio, then he shall have no odds. Gru. You are i'th' right, fir; 'tis for my mistress. Pet. Go, take it up unto thy master's use. Gru. Villain, not for thy life': take up my mistress's gown for thy master's use! Pet. Why, fir, what's your conceit in that? Gru. O, fir, the conceit is deeper than you think for: VOL. II. Rr Take |