Tra.
He is my father, sir, and sooth to say,
In count’nance somewhat doth resemble you.
Bion. [Aside.]
As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all one.
Tra.
To save your life in this extremity,
This favor will I do you for his sake;
And think it not the worst of all your fortunes
That you are like to Sir Vincentio.
His name and credit shall you undertake,
And in my house you shall be friendly lodg’d.
Look that you take upon you as you should;
You understand me, sir? So shall you stay
Till you have done your business in the city.
If this be court’sy, sir, accept of it.
Ped.
O sir, I do, and will repute you ever
The patron of my life and liberty.
Tra.
Then go with me to make the matter good.
This by the way I let you understand:
My father is here look’d for every day,
To pass assurance of a dow’r in marriage
’Twixt me and one Baptista’s daughter here.
In all these circumstances I’ll instruct you;
Go with me to clothe you as becomes you.
Exeunt.
¶
Scene [III]
Enter Katherina and Grumio.
Gru.
No, no, forsooth I dare not for my life.
Kath.
The more my wrong, the more his spite appears.
What, did he marry me to famish me?
Beggars that come unto my father’s door
Upon entreaty have a present alms,
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity;
But I, who never knew how to entreat,
Nor never needed that I should entreat,
Am starv’d for meat, giddy for lack of sleep,
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed;
And that which spites me more than all these wants,
He does it under name of perfect love;
As who should say, if I should sleep or eat,
’Twere deadly sickness, or else present death.
I prithee go, and get me some repast;
I care not what, so it be wholesome food.
Gru.
What say you to a neat’s foot?
Kath.
’Tis passing good, I prithee let me have it.
Gru.
I fear it is too choleric a meat.
How say you to a fat tripe finely broil’d?
Kath.
I like it well, good Grumio, fetch it me.
Gru.
I cannot tell, I fear ’tis choleric.
What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
Kath.
A dish that I do love to feed upon.
Gru.
Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.
Kath.
Why then the beef, and let the mustard rest.
Gru.
Nay then I will not, you shall have the mustard,
Or else you get no beef of Grumio.
Kath.
Then both or one, or any thing thou wilt.
Gru.
Why then the mustard without the beef.
Kath.
Go get thee gone, thou false deluding slave,
Beats him.
That feed’st me with the very name of meat.
Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you
That triumph thus upon my misery!
Go get thee gone, I say.
Enter Petruchio and Hortensio with meat.
Pet.
How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort?
Hor.
Mistress, what cheer?
Kath.
Faith, as cold as can be.
Pet.
Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon me.
Here,
