Enter Katharina and Grumio
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 aims; If not, elsewhere they meet with charity: But I, who never knew how to entreat, Nor never needed that I should entreat, Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep, With oath 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.
Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave,
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
Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully upon me. Here love; thou see'st how diligent I am To dress thy meat myself and bring it thee: I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. What, not a word? Nay, then thou lovest it not; And all my pains is sorted to no proof. Here, take away this dish.
Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest me. Much good do it unto thy gentle heart! Kate, eat apace: and now, my honey love, Will we return unto thy father's house And revel it as bravely as the best, With silken coats and caps and golden rings, With ruffs and cuffs and fardingales and things; With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery, With amber bracelets, beads and all this knavery. What, hast thou dined? The tailor stays thy leisure, To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure.
Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments; Lay forth the gown.
What news with you, sir?
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.
Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak; And speak I will; I am no child, no babe: Your betters have endured 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.
Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap, A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie: I love thee well, in that thou likest it not.
Thy gown? why, ay: come, tailor, let us see't. O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here? What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon: What, up and down, carved 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, i' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?
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.
I never saw a better-fashion'd gown, More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable: Belike you mean to make a puppet of me.
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! Braved 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 livest! I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.
Your worship is deceived; the gown is made Just as my master had direction: Grumio gave order how it should be done.
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.
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.
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.
O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for: Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use! O, fie, fie, fie!
Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid. Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more.
Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown tomorrow: Take no unkindness of his hasty words: Away! I say; commend me to thy master.
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 fathers 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.
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.