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Bap. And I, to found the depth of this knavery.
[Exit. Luc. Look not pale, Bianca, thy Father will not
frown. [Exeunt. Gre. My cake is dough, but I'll in among the reft, Out of hope of all, but my fhare of the feaft. [Exit. [Petruchio and Catharina advancing.
Cath. Hufband, let's follow, to fee the end of this ado.
Pet. Firft kifs me, Kate, and we will.
Cath. No, Sir, God forbid, but afham'd to kifs. Pet. Why, then let's home again: come, firrah, let's away.
Cath. Nay, I will give thee a kifs; now pray thee,,
Pet. Is not this well? come, my fweet Kate; Better once than never, for never too late.
Enter Baptifta, Vincentio, Gremio, Pedant, Lucentio, Bianca, Tranio, Biondello, Petruchio, Catharina, Grumio, Hortenfio, and Widow.
fervants bringing in a banquet.
Luc. At last, tho' long, our jarring notes agree:
To smile at 'scapes, and perils over-blown.
While I with felf-fame kindness welcome thine;
And thou, Hortenfio, with thy loving Widow;
After our great good cheer: pray you, fit down;
Pet. Nothing but fit and fit, and eat and eat!
Hor. For both our fakes, I would that word were
Pet. Now, for my life, Hortenfio fears his Widow. Wid. Then never truft me, if I be afeard.
Pet. You are very fenfible, and yet you mifs my fense: I mean, Hortenfio is afeard of you.
Wid. He, that is giddy, thinks, the world turns round.
Pet. Roundly replied.
Cath, Miftrefs, how mean you that?
Wid. Thus I conceive by him.
Pet. Conceives by me, how likes Hortenfio that? Hor. My widow fays, thus fhe conceives her tale. Pet. Very well mended; kifs him for that, good Widow.
Cath. He, that is giddy thinks, the world turns round
I pray you, tell me what you meant by that.
Wid. Your husband, being troubled with a Shrew, Measures my husband's forrow by his woe;
And now you know my meaning.
Cath. A very mean meaning.
Wid. Right, I mean you.
Cath. And I am mean, indeed, respecting you.
Pet. To her, Kate.
Hor. To her, Widow..
Pet. A hundred marks, my Kate does
Hor. That's my Office.
Pet. Spoke like an Officer; ha' to thee, lad.
[Drinks to Hortenfio. Bap. How likes Gremio these quick-witted folks? Gre. Believe me, Sir, they butt heads together well. Bian. Head and butt? an hafty-witted body
Would fay, your head and butt were head and horn. Vin. Ay, miftrefs Bride, hath that awaken'd you? Bian. Ay, but not frighted me, therefore I'll sleep again.
Pet. Nay, that thou shalt not, fince you have begun: Have at you for a better jeft or two.
Bian. Am I your bird? I mean to fhift my bufh: And then purfue me, as you
You are welcome all.
[Exeunt Bianca, Catharine, and Widow. Pet. She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio, This bird you aim'd at, tho' you hit it not;
Tra. Oh, Sir, Lucentio flip'd me like his grey-hound, Which runs himself, and catches for his mafter.
Pet. A good fwift Simile, but fomething currifh. Tra. 'Tis well, Sir, that you hunted for yourself: 'Tis thought, your deer does hold you at a bay. Bap. Oh, oh, Petruchio, Tranio hits you now, Luc. I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio. Hor. Confefs, confefs, hath he not hit you there? Pet. He has a little gall'd me, I confefs. And as the jeft did glance away from me, 'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright.
Bap. Now, in good fadnefs, fon Petruchio, I think, thou haft the verieft Shrew of all.
Pet. Well, I fay, no; and therefore for affurance, Let's each one fend unto his wife, and he Whose wife is moft obedient to come first, When he doth fend for her, fhall win the wager. Hor. Content; -what wager?
Luc. Twenty crowns.
Swift, befides the original fenfe of fpiedy in motion, fignified witty, quick-wited. So in As you like it, the Duke fays of the clown, He is very fwift and fententious. Quick is now ufed in
almoft the fame fenfe, as nimble was in the age after that of our authour. Heylin fays of Hales, that he had known Laud for a nimble difputant.
I'll venture fo much on my hawk or hound,
Pet. A match, 'tis done.
Go, Biondello, bid your Mistress come to me.
Bion. I go.
Bap. Son, I'll be your half, Bianca comes.
Luc. I'll have no halves: I'll bear it all myself.
How now, what news?
Bion. Sir, my Mistress fends you word
That she is bufy, and cannot come.
Pet. How? fhe's bufy and cannot come, is that an answer?
Gre. Ay, and a kind one too :
Pray, God, Sir, your wife send you not a worse.
Hor. Sirrah, Biondello, go and intreat my wife to come to me forthwith.
[Exit Biondello. Pet. Oh, ho! intreat her! nay, then she needs mult
Hor. I am afraid, Sir, do
you what you can,
Yours will not be intreated: now, where's my wife?
She will not come: fhe bids you come to her.
Oh vile, intolerable, not to be indur❜d :
Say, I command her to come to me. [Exit Grumio.
Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there's an end.
Bap. Now, by my hollidam, here comes Catharine!
Pet. Where is your Sifter, and Hortenfio's Wife?
And awful rule, and right fupremacy:
And, to be fhort, what not, that's fweet and happy.
Enter Catharina, Bianca, and widow.
See, where she comes, and brings your froward wives
[She pulls off her cap, and throws it down.