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Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer; A velvet dish-fie, fie! 'tis lewd 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.


[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-coffin3, 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. O, mercy, God! what masking 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'devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?
Hor. [Aside.] I see, she's like to have neither cap

nor gown.

Tai. You bid be make it orderly and well, According to the fashion, and the time.

5 A custard-COFFIN,]

"A coffin," says Steevens, "was the ancient culinary

term for the raised crust of a pie or custard."

6 Like to a CENSER in a barber's shop.] Steevens tells us that these "censers" were like modern brasieres. They were probably curiously ornamented.

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 commendable.
Belike, you mean to make a puppet of me.

Pet. Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee. Tai. She says, your worship means to make a puppet of her.

Pet. O, monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread,

Thou thimble,

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 order 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. Thou hast faced many things.

Tai. I have.

Gru. Face not me: thou hast braved many men; brave not me: I will neither be faced nor braved. I say unto thee,-I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did not bid him cut it to pieces: ergo, thou liest. Tai. Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify. Pet. Read it.

Gru. The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so.

Tai. "Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown."

Gru. Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom of brown thread: I said, a gown.

Pet. Proceed.

Tai. "With a small compassed cape."

Gru. I confess the cape.

Tai. "With a trunk sleeve."

Gru. I confess two sleeves.

Tai. "The sleeves curiously cut."

Pet. Ay, there's the villany.

Gru. Error i'the bill, sir; error i'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 should'st know it.

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

Hor. God-a-mercy, Grumio, then he shall have no odds.

Pet. Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me. Gru. You are i'the 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' gown for thy master's use!

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

Gru. O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for. Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use! O, fie, fie, fie!

Pet. [Aside.] Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid.—

Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more.



take thou the BILL, give me thy METE-YARD, and spare not me.] The joke intended is lost, unless we remember that "bill" meant either a piece of paper, or a weapon, such as was carried by watchmen, &c. in the time of Shakespeare. On the title-page of Dekker's "Lanthorne and Candle-light," 4to, 1609, is a representation of a watchman armed with a "bill.”

Hor. Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown to-morrow: Take no unkindness of his hasty words.

Away, I say; commend me to thy master.

[Exeunt Tailor and Haberdasher3.

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?
Or is the adder better than the eel,
Because his painted skin contents the eye?
O! no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse
For this poor furniture, and mean array.
If thou account'st it shame', lay it on me;
And therefore frolic: we will hence forthwith,
To feast and sport us at thy father's house.—
Go, call my men, and let us straight to him;
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 sun.


8 Exeunt Tailor and Haberdasher.] The exit of the Haberdasher is not mentioned in any edition. He had perhaps stood trembling by, after producing his


• If thou ACCOUNT'ST it shame,] Old copies, accounted❜st.


Padua. Before BAPTISTA's House.

Enter TRANIO, and the Pedant dressed like VINCENTIO.

Tra. Sir, this is the house: please it you, that I call?

Ped. Ay, what else? and, but I be deceived,

Signior Baptista may remember me,

Near twenty years ago, in Genoa,

Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus'.

Tra. "Tis well; and hold your own, in any case, With such austerity as 'longeth to a father.


Ped. I warrant you. But, sir, here comes your boy; "Twere good, he were school'd.

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

Bion. Tut! fear not me.

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

Tra. Thou'rt a tall fellow: hold thee that to drink. Here comes Baptista. Set your countenance, sir.—


Signior Baptista, you are happily met.-
Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of.-
I pray you, stand good father to me now,
Give me Bianca for my patrimony.

Ped. Soft, son!

1 Where we were lodgers at the Pegasus.] This line clearly is the conclusion of the Pedant's speech, and not the beginning of Tranio's, as it stands in all

the old folios.

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