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leisure,

To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure.

Enter Tailor.

Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments;

Lay forth the gown.—

Hab.

Enter Haberdasher.

What news with you, sir?

Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.

Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer; A velvet dish:-fie, fie! 'tis low and filthy: Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell,

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

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-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie:

I love thee well, in that thou lik'st it not.

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.

Oh, mercy! Look, what masquing stuff is here! What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon: What! up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart? Here's snip, and nip, and cut, and slish, and slash, Like to a censer in a barber's shop:

Why, what, o' mischief's name, tailor, call'st thou this?

Hor. [Aside.] I see she's like to have neither cap nor gown.

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 quaint, more pleasing, nor more commend-

able:

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?
Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant;
Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard,
As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv'st!
I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.
Tai. Your worship is deceiv'd; the gown is
made

Just as my master had direction:

Grumio gave orders how it should be done.
Gru. I gave him no order; I gave him the
stuff.

Tai. But how did you desire it should be made?
Gru. Marry, sir, with needle and thread.
Tai. But did you not request to have it cut?
Gru. Thɔu hast faced many things.

Tai. [Reads.] "With a small compassed cape:" Gru. I confess the cape.

Tai. [Reads.] "With a trunk sleeve:-
Gru. I confess two sleeves.
Tai. [Reads.] "The sleeves curiously cut."
Pet. Ay, there's the villany.

Gru. Error i' the bill, sir; error i̇' the bill. I commanded the sleeves should be cut out, and sewed up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble.

Tai. This is true that I say: an I had thee in place where, thou shouldst know it.

Gru. I am for thee straight: take thou the bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me. Hor. Od's-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall have no odds.

Pet. Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me.

tress.

Pet. Go, take it up.

no more.

To feast and sport us at thy father's house.

for thy gown to-morrow:

Take no unkindness of his hasty words:
Away! I say; commend me to thy master.

[Exeunt Tailor and Haberdasher. Pet. Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father's,

Even in these honest mean habiliments:
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor;
For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
What! is the jay more precious than the lark,
Because his feathers are more beautiful?

And bring our horses unto Long Lane end; There will we mount, and thither walk on foot.Let's see; I think 'tis now some seven o'clock, And well we may come there by dinner-time.

Kath. I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two; And 'twill be supper-time ere you come there. Pet. It shall be seven ere I go to horse: Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do, You are still crossing it!-Sirs, let 't alone: I will not go to-day; and ere I do,

It shall be what o'clock I say it is.

Hor. Why, so! this gallant will command the [Exeunt.

sun.