Pet. Nay, that you shall not; since you have

begun,

Have at you for a bitter jest or two.

Bian. Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush, And then pursue me as you draw your bow::You are welcome all.

Exeunt BIANCA, KATHARINA, and Widow. Pet. She hath prevented me.-Here, signior Tranio,

This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not;
Therefore, a health to all that shot and miss'd.
Tra. O, sir, Lucentio slipp'd me like his grey-

hound,

Which runs himself, and catches for his master.
Pet. A good swift simile, but something currish.
Tra. "Tis well, sir, that you hunted for yourself;
'Tis thought, your deer does hold you at a bay.
Bap. O ho, Petruchio, Tranio hits you now.
Luc. I thank thee for that gird,' good Tranio.
Hor. Confess, confess, hath he not hit you
here?

Pet. 'A has a little gall'd me, I confess;
And, as the jest did glance away from me,
'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright.
Bap. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio,

I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.

Pet. Well, I say-no: and therefore, for assurance,

Let's each one send unto his wife;

And he, whose wife is most obedient

To come at first when he doth send for her,

Shall win the wager which we will propose.

1

Hor. Content:

Luc.

-What is the wager?

Twenty crowns.

Pet. Twenty crowns!

that gird,] A gird is a sarcasm, a gibe.

I'll venture so much on my hawk, or hound,
But twenty times so much upon my wife.

Luc. A hundred then.

[Exit.

Luc.

Biondello, bid your mistress come to me.
Bion. I go.

Bap. Son, I will be your half, Bianca comes.
Luc. I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself.

Re-enter BIONDELLO.

How now! what news?

Bion.

Sir, my mistress sends you word

That she is busy, and she cannot come.

Pet. How! she is busy, and she cannot come! Is that an answer?

Gre.

Ay, and a kind one too:

Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse.
Pet. I hope, better.

Hor. Sirrah, Biondello, go, and entreat my wife To come to me forthwith.

Pet.

[Exit BIONDELLO.

O, ho! entreat her!

Nay, then she must needs come.

Hor.

I am afraid, sir,

Do what you can, yours will not be entreated.

Re-enter BIOndello.

Now where's my wife?

Bion. She says, you have some goodly jest in
hand;

She will not come; she bids you come to her.
Pet. Worse and worse; she will not come! O

vile,

Intolerable, not to be endur'd!

Sirrah, Grumio, go to your mistress;
Say, I command her come to me.
Hor. I know her answer.

Pet.

Hor.

[Exit GRUMIO.

What?

She will not come.

Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.

Enter KATHARINA.

Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katha

rina!

Kath. What is your will, sir, that you send for me?

Pet. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife?
Kath. They sit conferring by the parlour fire.
Pet. Go, fetch them hither; if they deny to

come,

Swinge me them soundly forth unto their husbands: Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. [Exit KATHARINA.

Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.
Hor. And so it is; I wonder what it bodes.
Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life,
An awful rule, and right supremacy;

And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and happy.
Bap. Now fair befal thee, good Petruchio!
The wager thou hast won; and I will add
Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns;
Another dowry to another daughter,
For she is chang'd, as she had never been.
Pet. Nay, I will win my wager better yet;
And show more sign of her obedience,
Her new-built virtue and obedience.

Re-enter KATHARINA, with BIANCA and Widow.

See, where she comes; and brings your froward

wives

As prisoners to her womanly persuasion.

Katharine, that cap of yours becomes
you not;
Off with that bauble, throw it under foot.

[KATHARINA pulls off her cap, and throws it

down.

Wid. Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh, Till I be brought to such a silly pass!

Bian. Fye! what a foolish duty call you this? Luc. I would, your duty were as foolish to: The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca,

Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supper-time. Bian. The more fool you, for laying on my duty. Pet. Katharine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women

What duty they do owe their lords and husbands. Wid. Come, come, you're mocking; we will have no telling.

Pet. Come on, I say; and first begin with her. Wid. She shall not.

Pet. I say, she shall;-and first begin with her. Kath. Fye, fye! unknit that threat'ning unkind brow;

And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor:
It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads;
Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds;
And in no sense is meet, or amiable.

A woman mov'd, is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty;
And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance: commits his body
To painful labour, both by sea and land;
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands,

But love, fair looks, and true obedience ;-
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
Even such, a woman oweth to her husband:
And, when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And, not obedient to his honest will,
What is she, but a foul contending rebel,
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?-
I am asham'd, that women are so simple
To offer war, where they should kneel for peace;
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,

When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth, Unapt to toil and trouble in the world;

2

But that our soft conditions, and our hearts,
Should well agree with our external parts?
Come, come, you froward and unable worms!
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
My heart as great; my reason, haply, more,
To bandy word for word, and frown for frown:
But now, I see our lances are but straws;

Our strength as weak, our weakness past compare,-
That seeming to be most, which we least are.
Then vail your stomachs,3 for it is no boot;
And place your hands below your husband's foot:
In token of which duty, if he please,

My hand is ready, may it do him ease.

Pet. Why, there's a wench!-Come on, and kiss me, Kate.

Luc. Well, go thy ways, old lad; for thou shalt

ha't.

Vin. 'Tis a good hearing, when children are toward.

Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are froward.

our soft conditions,] The gentle qualities of our minds. 3 Then vail your stomachs,] i. e. abate your pride, your spirit.