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fay unto thee, I bid thy mafter cut out the gown, but I did not bid him cut it to pieces. Ergo thou lyest.

Tai. Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify. Pet. Read it.

Gru. The note lyes in's throat, if he fay I faid fo. Tai. Imprimis, a loofe-bodied gown.

Gru. "Mafter, if ever I faid loose-bodied gown, "fow 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 fmall compast cape.
Gru. I confefs the cape.
Tai. With a trunk-sleeve.
Gru. I confefs two fleeves.
Tai. The fleeves curiously cut.
Pet. Ay, there's the villany.

Gru. Error i' th' bill, Sir, error i' th' bill: I commanded the fleeves fhould be cut out, and fow'd up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, though thy little finger be arm'd in a thimble.

Tai.. This is true that I fay; an I had thee in place where, thou fhou'dft know it.

Gru. I am for thee ftraight: take thou the bill, give me thy mete-yard, and fpare not me.

Hlor. God-a-mercy, Grumio, then he fhall have no odds.

Pet. Well, Sir, in brief the gown is not for me. Gru. You are i' th' right, Sir, '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 ufe!

Pet. Why, Sir, what's your conceit in that?

Gru. Oh, Sir, the conceit is deeper than you think Take up my miftrefs's gown unto his mafter's ufe! [for: Oh, fie, fie, fie!

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Pet. Hortenfio, fay, thou wilt fee the tailor paid. (Afide.

Go, take it hence; be gone, and fay no more.
Hor. Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown to-morrow,
Take no unkindness of his hafty words:
Away, I fay; commend me to thy mafter. [Exit Tailor.
Pet. Well, come my Kate, we will unto your father's,

Even in thefe honeft mean habiliments :
Our purfes (hall be proud, our garments poor :
For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
And as the fun breaks through the darkeft clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
What, is the jay more precious than the lark,
Because his feathers are more beautiful?
Or is the adder better than the eel,
Because his painted skin contents the eye?
Oh, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worfe
For this poor furniture and mean array ;
If thou account'ft it fhame, lay it on me;
And therefore frolic; we will hence forthwith,
To feast and sport us at thy father's houfe.
Go, call my men, and let us straight to him,
And bring our horfes unto Long-lane end,
There will we mount. and thither walk on foot.
Let's fee, I think, 'tis now fome seven o'clock,
And well we may come there by dinner-time.

Cath. I dare affure you, Sir, 'tis almost two;
And it will be fupper-time ere you come there.

Pet. It fhall be seven ere I go to horse.
Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do,
You are still croffing it; Sirs, let's alone,
I will not go to-day; and ere I do,
It shall be what a clock I fay it is.

Hor. Why, fo; this gallant will command the fun. [Exeunt Pet. Cath, and Hor.

[The prefenters, above, speak here.] Lord. Who's within there?

[Sly peeps.

Enter fervants.

Afleep again! go take him eafily up, and put him in his wn apparel again. But fee you wake him not in any cafe. Serv. It shall be done, my Lord; come, help to bear him hence. [They bear off Sly. SCENE IX. Before Baptifta's houfe. Enter Tranio, and the Pedant drefs'd like Vincentio.

Tra. Sir, this is the houfe; please it you that I call? Ped. Ay, what elfe! and (but I be deceived), Signior Baptifta may remember me


Near twenty years ago in Genoa,
Where we were lodgers, at the Pegafus.

Tra. 'Tis well, and hold your own in any cafe
With fuch aufterity as 'longeth to a father.

Enter Biondello.

Ped. I warrant you: but, Sir, here comes your boy; 'Twere good he were school'd.

Tra. Fear you not him; firrah, Biondello, Now do your duty throughly, I advise you : Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio.

Bion. Tut, fear not me.

Tra. But haft thou done thy errand to Baptista ? Bion. I told him that your father was in Venice And that you look'd for him this day in Padua.


Tra. Th'art a tall fellow, hold thee that to drink; Here comes Baptifta; fet your countenance, Sir.

SCENE X. Enter Baptifta and Lucentio.
Tra. Signior Baptifta, you are happily met,
Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of;
I pray you ftand, good father to me now,
Give me Fianca for my patrimony.

Ped. Soft, fon, Sir, by your leave, having come to

To gather in fome debts, my son Lucentio
Made me acquainted with a weighty caufe
Of love between your daughter and himself:
And for the good report I hear of you,
And for the love he beareth to your daughter,
And the to him; to ftay him not too long,
I am content in a good father's care
To have him match'd; and if you please to like
No worfe than I, Sir, upon fome agreement,
Me fhall you find most ready and moft willing
With one confent to have her fo beftowed:
For curious I cannot be with you,
Signior Baptifta, of whom I hear fo well.

Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I have to fay:
Your plainnefs and your fhortnefs pleafe me well,
Right true it is, your fon Lucentio here
Doth love my daughter, and the loveth him,
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Or both diffemble deeply their affections;
And therefore, if you fay no more than this,
That like a father you will deal with him,
And pafs my daughter a fufficient dowry,
The match is made, and all is done.
Your fon fhall have my daughter with confent.
Tra. I thank you, Sir. Where then de you know
Be we affied; and such assurance ta'en,
As fhall with either part's agreement stand?

Bap. Not in my houfe, Lucentio; for, you know,
Pitchers have ears, and I have many fervants;
Befides, old Gremio is heark'ning still;
And, haply, then we might be interrupted.

Tra. Then at my lodging, an it like you, Sir,
There doth my father lie; and there this night
We'll pass the bus'ness privately and well:
Send for your daughter by your servant here,
My boy fhall fetch the fcrivener presently.
The worst is this, that at fo flender warning
You're like to have a thin and flender pittance.

Bap. It likes me well. Go, Cambio, hie you home,
And bid Bianca make her ready straight:
And if you will, tell what hath happen'd here :
Lucentio's father is arriv'd in Padua.
And how fhe's like to be Lucentio's wife.
Luc. I pray the Gods fhe may, with all

my heart!


Tra, Dally not with the Gods, but get thee gone. Signior Baptifta, fhall I lead the way?

Welcome! one mess is like to be your cheer.
Come, Sir, we will better it in Pifa.

Bap. I'll follow you.


SCENE XI. Enter Lucentio and Biondello.

Bion. Cambio.

Luc. What fay'ft thou, Biondello?

Bion. You faw my mafter wink and laugh upon you.
Luc. Biondello, what of that?

Bion. "Faith, nothing; but has left me here behind to expound the meaning or moral of his figns and tokens.

Luc. I pray thee, moralize them.

Bion. Then thus. Baptifta is fafe, talking with the deceiving father of a deceitful fon.

Luc. And what of him?

Bion. His daughter is to be brought by you to the fupper.

Luc. And then?

Bion. The old priest at St. Luke's church is at your command at all hours.

Luc. And what of all this?

Bion. I cannot tell, except they are busied about a counterfeit affurance; take you affurance of her, cum. privilegio ad imprimendum folum; to the church take the priest, clark, and fome fufficient honeft witneffes : if this be not that you look for, I have no more to fay, but bid Bianca farewel for ever and a day.

Luc. Hear'ft thou, Biondello?

Bion. I cannot tarry; I knew a wench married in an afternoon as she went to the garden for parfley to stuff a rabbet; and fo may you, Sir; and fo, adieu, Sir; my master hath appointed me to go to St. Luke's, to bid the priest be ready to come against you come with your appendix. [Exit.

Luc. I may, and will, if fhe be fo contented: She will be pleas'd, then wherefore fhould I doubt? Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her: It fhall go hard if Cambio go without her.


SCENE XII. A green lane.

Enter Petruchio, Catharina, and Hortenfio.

Pet. Come on, o'God's name, once more tow'rds our father's.

Good Lord, how bright and goodly fhines the moon! Cath. The moon! the fun: it is not moon-light


Pet. I fay it is the moon that fhines fo bright. Cath. I know it is the fun that fhines fo bright. Pet. Now by my mother's fon, and that's myfelf, It fhall be moon, or ftar, or what I lift, Or ere I journey to your father's house: Go on, and fetch our horfes back again. Evermore croft and croft, nothing but croft!


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