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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.
Cath. Miftrefs, how mean you that?
Wid. Thus I conceive by him.
Pet. Conceives by me, how likes Hortenfio that?
Wid. Your hufband, being troubled with a fhrew,
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 put her down.
Hor. That's my office.
Pet. Spoke like an officer; ha' to thee, lad. [Drinks to Hortenfio.
Gre. Believe me, Sir, they butt heads together well.
Vin. Ay, Miftrefs Bride, hath that awaken'd you?
Bian. Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush:
[Exeunt Bianca, Catharine, and Widow. Pet. She hath prevented me. Here, Signior Tranio, This bird you aim'd at, tho' you hit it not; Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd.
Tra. Oh, Sir, Lucentio flipp'd me like his grey-hound, Which runs himself, and catches for his master.
Pet. A good fwift fimile, but something currish. 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.
Hor. Content,- -what wager?
Luc. Twenty crowns.
Pet. Twenty crowns!
I'll venture fo much on my hawk or hound,
Pet. A match; 'tis done.
Hor. Who fhall begin?
Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me.
Bap. Son, I'll be your half, Pianca comes.
How now, what news?
Bion. Sir, my mistress fends you word That fhe is bufy, and cannot come.
Pet. How? fhe's bufy, and cannot come, is that an anfwer?
Gre. Ay, and a kind one too :
Pray God, Sir, your wife fend you not a worse.
Hor. Sirrah, Biondello, go, and intreat my wife to come to me forthwith. [Exit Biondello. Pet. Oh, oh! intrcat her! nay, then she needs niust
Hor. I am afraid, Sir, do you what you can,
Your's will not be intreated. Now, where's my wife?
Pet. Worfe and worfe, fhe will not come!
Hor. She will not.
Pet. The fouler fortune mine, and there's an end.
V. Enter Catharina.
Bap. Now, by my hollidam, here comes Catharine ! Cath. What is your will, Sir, that you send for me? Pet. Where is your fifter, and Hortenfio's wife? Cath. They fit conferring by the parlour-fire. Pet. Go fetch them hither; if they deny to come, Swinge me them foundly forth unto their husbands; Away, I fay, and bring them hither straight.
[Exit Catharina. Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. Hor. And fo it is: I wonder what it bodes. Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life, And awful rule, and right fupremacy : And, to be short, what not that's fweet and happy. Bag. Now fair befal thee, good Petruchio! The wager thou haft won; and I will add Unto their loffes twenty thousand crowns, Another dowry to another daughter; For fhe is chang'd as fhe had never been. Pet. Nay, I will win my wager better yet, And show more fign of her obedience, Her new-built virtue and obedience.
Enter Catharina, Bianca, and Widow. See, where fhe comes, and brings your froward wives As prifoners to her womanly perfuafion. Catharine, that cap of your's becomes you not; Off with that bauble, throw it under foot.
[She pulls off her cap, and throws it down. Wid. Lord, let me never have a cause to figh, Till I be brought to fuch a filly pafs.
Bian. Fie, what a foolish duty call you this? Luc. I would your duty were as foolish too! The wifdom of your duty, fair Bianca, Coft me an hundred crowns fince fupper-time. Bian. The more fool you, for laying on my duty. Pet. Catharine, I charge thee, tell thefe headstrong
What duty they owe to their lords and husbands. Wid. Come, come, you're mocking; we will have no telling.
Pet. Come on, I fay, and firft begin with her.
Pet. I fay, the fhall; and firft begin with her. Cath. Fie! fie! unknit that threat'ning unkind brow, And dart not fcornful glances from those eyes, To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor. "It blots thy beauty, as frofts bite the meads ; "Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds fhake fair buds ; "And in no fenfe is meet or amiable.
"A woman mov'd is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-feeming, thick, bereft of beauty; "And while it is fo, none fo dry or thirsty "Will dain to fip, or touch one drop of it. "Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy fovereign; one that cares for thee, "And for thy maintenance: commits his body "To painful labour, both by fea and land; "To watch the night in ftorms, the day in cold, "While thou ly'ft warm at home, fecure and safe ; "And craves no other tribute at thy hands, "But love, fair looks, and true obedience; "Too little payment for fo great a debt. "Such duty as the subject owes the prince, "Even fuch a woman oweth to her husband: "And when she's froward, peevish, fullen, four, "And not obedient to his honeft will; "What is the but a foul contending rebel, "And graceless traitor to her loving lord? "I am afham'd, that women are fo fimple "To offer war where they fhould kneel for peace; "Or feek for rule, fupremacy, and fway, "When they are bound to ferve, love, and obey. Why are our bodies foft, and weak, and smooth, Unapt to toil and trouble in the world, "But that our foft 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 your's, My heart as great, my reafon haply more, To bandy word for word, and frown for frown; But now I fee, our launces are but ftraws,
Our ftrength is weak, our weakness past compare;
Enter two fervants bearing Sly in his own apparel, and leaving him on the ftage. Then enter a Tapfter.
Sly awaking.] Sim, give's fome more wine-What, all the players gone? am not Ia Lord?
Tap. A Lord, with a murrain! come, art thou drunk Still?
Sly. Who's this? Tapfter! oh, I have had the brav eft dream that ever thou heardft in all thy life.
Tap. Yea, marry, but thou hadft beft get thee home, for your wife will course you for dreaming here all night.
Sly. Will fhe? I know how to tame a fhrew. I dream'd upon it all this night, and thou haft wak'd me out of the best dream that ever I had. But I'll to my wife, and tame her too, if she anger me.
-indeed leaft are.
Then vale your ftomachs, for it is no boot,
And place your hands below your husband's foot:
My hand is ready, may it do him ease.
Pet. Why, there's a wench: come on, and kiss me, Kate.
We two are married, but you two are fped.
[Exeunt Petruchio and Catharina, Hor. Now, go thy ways, thou haft tam'd a curs'd fhrew. Luc. 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tam'd fo.
The End of the SECOND VOLUME.