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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:

Go with me, &c.] There is an old comedy called Supposes, translated from Ariosto, by George Gascoigne. Thence Shak. speare borrowed this part of the plot, (as well as some of the phraseology) though Theobald pronounces it his own invention. There, likewise, he found the quaint name of Petruchio. My young master and his man exchange habits, and persuade a Scenese, as he is called, to personate the father, exactly as in this play, by the pretended danger of his coming from Sienna to Ferrara, contrary to the order of the government. Farmer. In the same play our author likewise found the name of Licio.

Malone. 7 Enter Katharina and Grumio.] Thus the original play:

« Enter Sander and his mistris. San. Come, mistris.

Kate. Sander, I prethee helpe me to some meate; “I am so faint that I can scarcely stand.

San. I marry mistris: but you know my maister “Has given me a charge that you must eat nothing, “ But that which he himself giveth you.

Kate. Why man, thy master needs never know it.

San. You say true, indeed. Why looke you, mistris; What say you to a pece of bieffe and mustard now?

Kate. Why, I say, 'tis excellent meate; canst thou helpe me to some?

San. I, I could helpe you to some, but that I doubt 66 The mustard is too chollerick for you. “But what say you to a sheepes head and garlicke?

Kate. Why any thing; I care not what it be.

San. I, but the garlicke I doubt will make your breath stincke; and then my maister will course me for letting you eate it. But what say you to a fat capon?

Kate. That's meat for a king; sweete Sander help me to some of it.

San. Nay, berlady, then 'tis too deere for us; we must not meddle with the king's meate.

Kate. Out villaine! dost thou mocke me? “ Take that for thy sawsinesse.

[She beates him San. Sounes are you so light-fingred, with a murrin; « Ile keepe you fasting for it these two daies.

Kate. I tell thee villaine, Ile tear the flesh off 56 Thy face and eate it, and thou prate to me thus.

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,
Nor never needed that I should 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.
I pr’ythee 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 prythee let me have it.

San. Here comes my maister now: heele course you. Enter Ferando with a piece of meate upon his dagger point, and

Polidor with him. Feran. See here, Kate, I have provided meate for thee : “Here, take it: what, is 't not worthy thanks ? “Go, sirha, take it away againe, you shall be “ Thankful for the next you have.

Kate. Why, I thanke you for it.

" Feran. Nay, now 'tis not worth a pin: go, sirha, and take it hence, I say.

San. Yes, sir, Ile carrie it hence: Maister, let hir “ Have none; for she can fight, as hungry as she is.

Pol. I pray you, sir, let it stand; for ile eat “ Some with her myselfe.

Feran. Well, sirha, set it downe againe.

Kate. Nay, nay, I pray you, let him take it hence, “And keepe it for your own diet, for ile none; “ Ile nere be beholding to you for your meate: “ I tel thee flatly here unto thy teeth, “Thou shalt not keepe me nor feed me as thou list, « For I will home againe unto my father's house.

Feran. I, when y'are meeke and gentle, but not before : « I know your stomacke is not yet come downe, 6. Therefore no marvel thou canst not eat: “ And I will go unto your father's house. « Come Polidor, let us go in againe ; " And Kate come in with us: I know, ere long, " That thou and I shall lovingly agree.”

The circumstance of Ferando bringing meat to Katharine of the point of his dagger, is a ridicule on Marlowe's Tamburlaine, who treats Bajazet in the same manner. Steedens.

Gru. I fear, it is too cholerick a meat:8. 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.9
Kath. Why, then the beef, and let the mustard rest.
Gru. Nay, then I will not; you shall have the mus-

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 slave,

[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,


say. Enter PETRUCHIO with a dish of meat; and HORTENSIO.

Pet. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort?1

8 I fear, it is too cholerick a meat:] So, before:

“ And I expressly am forbid to touch it;

“For it engenders choler.The editor of the second folio arbitrarily reads—too phlegmatick a meat; which has been adopted by all the subsequent edi. tors. Malone.

Though I have not displaced the oldest reading, that of the second folio may be right. It prevents the repetition of cholerick, and preserves its meaning; for phlegmatick, irregularly derived from paszporn', might anciently have been a word in physical use, signifying inflammatory, as phlegmonous is at present. Steevens.

9 Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.] This is agreeable to the doctrine of the times. In The Glass of Humors, 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 i eschewing such as are most 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,” &c. So Petruchio before objects to the over-roasted mutton. Reed.

What, sweeting, all amort!] This gallicism is common to many of the old plays. So, in Wily Beguiled:

“ Why how now, Sophos, all amort?" Again, in Ram Alley, or Merry Tricks, 1611:


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 lov’st it not; And all my pains is sorted to no proof:2Here, 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, fy! you are to blame!
Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.
Pet. Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lov'st me.-

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;8
With scarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery,
With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery.


“ What all amort! What's the matter?" Steevens. That is, all sunk and dispirited. Malone.

2 And all my pains is sorted to no proof:] And all my labour has ended in nothing, or proved nothing. « We tried an experiment, but it sorted not." Bacon. Johnson.

-farthingales, and things ;] Though things is a poor word, yet I have no better, and perhaps the author had not another that would rhyme. I once thought to transpose the words rings and things, but it would make little improyement. Johnson.

However poor the word, the poet must be answerable for it, as he had used it before, Act II, sc. v, when the rhyme did not force it upon him.

We will have rings and things, and fine array. Again, in The Tragedy of Hoffman, 1632:

“ 'Tis true that I am poor, and yet have things,

“ And golden rings,” &c. A thing is a trifle too inconsiderable to deserve a particular discrimination. Steevens.

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

Enter Tailor.
Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments;5

Enter Haberdasher. 6
Lay forth the gown.- What news with you, sir?


with his ruffing treasure.] This is the reading of the old copy, which Mr. Pope changed to rustling, I think, without necessity. Our author has indeed in another play—“ Prouder than rustling, in unpaid-for silk;" but ruffling is sometimes used in nearly the same sense. Thus, in King Lear:

the high winds “ Do sorely ruffle." There clearly the idea of noise as well as turbulence is annexed to the word. A rufler in our author's time signified a noisy and turbulent swaggerer; and the word ruffling may here be applied in a kindred sense to dress. So, in King Henry VI, P. II:

And his proud wife, high-minded Eleanor,
" That ruffles it with such a troop of ladies,

“ As strangers in the court take her for queen.” Again, more appositely, in Camden's Remaines, 1605: “ “ There was a nobleman merry conceited and riotously given, having lately sold a manor of a hundred tenements, came ruffling into the court in a new sute, saying, Am not I a mightie man that beare an hundred houses on my backe."

Boyle speaks of the rufling of silk, and ruffled is used by so late an author as Addison in the sense of plaited; in which last signification perhaps the word ruffling should be understood here. Pe. truchio has just before told Katharine that she “should revel it with ruffs and cuffs;" from the former of which words, ruffled, in the sense of plaited, seems to be derived. As ruffling there. fore may be understood either in this sense, or that first suggested, (which I incline to think the true one) I have adhered to the reading of the old copy.

To the examples already given in support of the reading of the old copy, may be added this very apposite one from Lyly's Eu. phues and his England, 1580: “ Shall I rufle in new devices, with chains, with bracelets, with rings, with roabes ?” Again, in Drayton's Battaile of Agincourt, 1627:

“With ruffling banners, that do brave the sky.” Malone. 5 Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments ;] In our poet's time, women's gowns were usually made by men. So, in the Epistle to the Ladies, prefixed to Euphues and his England, by John Lyly, 1580: “If a taylor make your gown too little, you cover his fault with a broad stomacher; if too great, with a number of pleights; if too short, with a fair guard; if too long, with a false gathering." Malone.

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