Tho' little fire grows great with little wind," For I am rough, and wooe not like a babe. Bap. Well may'ft thou wooe, and happy be thy fpeed! But be thou arm'd for fome unhappy words. Pet. Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds, That shake not, tho' they blow perpetually. Enter Hortenfio with his head broke. Bap. How now, my friend, why doft thou look fo pale? Hor. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale. Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good mufician? Hor. I think, fhe'll fooner prove a soldier ; Iron may hold with her, but never lutes. Bep. Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute? And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering, As on a pillory, looking through the lute: And twangling Jack, with twenty fuch vile terms, Pet. Now, by the world, it is a lufty wench I love her ten times more than e'er I did ; Bep. Well, go with me, and be not fo difcomfited, Proceed in Practice with my younger daughter, She's apt to learn, and thankful for good turns; Signior Signior Petruchio, will you go with us, ? Pet. I pray you, do. I will attend her here, [Exit. Bap. with Grem. Horten. and Tranio. Say, that the frowns; I'll fay, the looks as clear And fay, the uttereth piercing eloquence: When I fhall ask the banns, and when be married? Good morrow, Kate; for that's your name, I hear. Cath. Well have you heard, but fomething hard of hearing. They call me Catharine, that do talk of me. Pet. You lye, in faith, for you are call'd plain Kate. And bonny Kate, and fometimes Kate the curft; But Kate, the prettiéft Kate in christendom, Kate of Kate-ball, my fuper-dainty Kate, (For dainties are all Cates) and therefore Kate; Take this of me, Kate of my confolation! Hearing thy mildness prais'd in every Town, Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty founded, Yet not fo deeply as to thee belongs: Myfelf am mov'd to wooe thee for my wife. Cath. Mov'd?-in good time-let him that mov'd you hither, Remove you hence; I knew you at the first You were a moveable. Pet. Why, what's a moveable? Cath. A join'd ftool. Pet. Thou haft hit it; come, fit on me. Cath. Affes are made to bear, and fo are you. Pet. Women are made to bear, and fo are you. Cath. No fuch jade, Sir, as you; if me you mean. Pet. Alas, good Kate, I will not burden thee; For knowing thee to be but young and lightCath. Too light for fuch a fwain as you to catch; And yet as heavy as my weight fhould be. fhould buz.. Pet. Should bee; Cath. Well ta'en, and like a buzzard. Pet. Oh, flow-wing'd turtle, fhall a buzzard take thee? Cath. Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.* Cath. Ah, if the fool could find it, where it lies. In his tail Cath. In his tongue. Pet. Whofe tongue? Cath. Yours, if you talk of tails; and fo farewel. again, Good Kate, I am a gentleman. Cath. That I'll try. Pet. I fwear, I'll cuff you, if you Cath. So may you lose your arms; [She ftrikes him. ftrike again. If you ftrike me, you are no gentleman; And if no gentleman, why then, no arms. Pet. A comblefs cock, fo Kate will be my hen. Cath. It is my fashion when I see a crab. Pet. Why, here's no crab, and therefore look not fo fower. Cath. There is, there is. Pet. Then, fhew it me. Cath. Had a glass, I would. Pet. What, you mean my face? Cath. Well aim'd of fuch a young one. - Pet. 'Tis with Cares. Cath. I care not. Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate; in footh, you 'scape not fo. Cath. I chafe you if I tarry; let me go. Pet. No, not a whit; I find you paffing gentle: 'Twas told me, you were rough, and coy and fullen, And now I find Report a very liar; For thou art pleasant, gamefom, paffing courteous, Nor haft thou pleasure to be cross in talk: Why doth the world report, that Kate doth limp? As Kate this chamber with her princely gaite? And And then let Kate be chaft, and Dian fportful! - Cath. A witty mother, witless else her fon. Cath. Yes; keep you warm. Pet Why fo I mean, fweet Catharine, in thy bed: And therefore fetting all this chat afide, Thus in plain terms: your father hath confented, SCENE V. Enter Baptifta, Gremio, and Tranio. Bap. Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter? Pet. How but well, Sir? how but well? It were impoffible, I fhould speed arifs. Bap. Why, how now daughter Catharine, in your dumps? Cath. Call you me daughter? now, I promise you, To with me wed to one half lunatick; That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. For fhe's not froward, but modeft as the dove: |