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Gre. Yes, I know thee to be fignior Lucentio.
Enter Lucentio, and Bianca.
Vin. Thus ftrangers may be hal'd and abus'd; o monstrous villain!
Bion. O, we are spoil'd, and yonder he is, deny him, forswear him, or else we are all undone.
[Ex. Biondello, Tranio, and Pedant.
Bap. How haft thou offended? where is Lucentio?
Gre. Here's packing, with a witness, to deceive us!
Bap. Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio?
Luc. Love wrought these miracles. Bianca's love
What Tranio did, myself enforc'd him to;
Then pardon him, sweet father, for my fake.
Vin. I'll flit the villain's nofe, that would have sent me to the jail. Bap. But do you hear, fir? have you married my daughter without asking my good will?
Vin. Fear not, Baptifta; we will content you, go to: will in, to be reveng'd on this villain.
but I [Exit.
Bap. And I, to found the depth of this knavery. [Exit. Luc. Look not pale, Bianca; thy father will not frown. [Exeunt. Gre. My cake is dough; but I'll in among the rest, Out of hope of all, but my fhare of the feast.
Cath. Hufband, let's follow, to fee the end of this ado.
Cath. What, in the midst of the street?
Pet. What, art thou afham'd of me?
Cath. No, fir, god forbid! but asham'd to kiss.
Pet. Why, then let's home again: come, firrah, let's away. Cath. Nay, I will give thee a kifs: now, pray thee, love, stay. Pet. Is not this well? come, come, my fweet Kate; Better late than never, for never too late.
2 ----- too late.
Enter Baptifta, Vincentio, Gremio, Pedant, Lucentio, Bianca, Tranio, Biondello, Petruchio, Catharina, Grumio, Hortenfio, and Widow. Tranio's fervants bringing in a banquet.
Luc. At laft, though long, our jarring notes agree;
And time it is, when raging war is done,
While I with felf-fame kindness welcome thine:
And thou, Hortenfio, with thy loving widow,
After our great good cheer: pray you, fit down,
Pet. Nothing but fit and fit, and eat and eat!
Hor. For both our fakes, I would that word were true.
Wid. Then never truft me, if I be afeard.
Lucentio's house in Padua.
Enter Baptifta, Petruchio, Hortenfio, Lucentio, and the reft.
OW, in good fadness, fon Petruchio,
I think, thou haft the verieft fhrew of all.
When he doth send for her, shall win the wager.
Luc. Twenty crowns.
Pet. Twenty crowns!
I'll venture fo much on my hawk, or hound,
Fet. To her, Kate!
Hor. To her, widow!
Pet. A hundred marks, my Kate do put her down.
Pet. Spoke like an officer; ha' to thee, lad.
Bap. How likes Gremio thefe quickwitted folks?
Vin. Ay, mistress bride, hath that awaken'd you?
Bian. Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bufh:
Pet. She hath prevented me. Here, fignior Tranio, This bird you aim'd at, though you hit it not; Therefore, a health to all that fhot and mifs'd.
Tra. O, fir, Lucentio flip'd me like his greyhound, Which runs himfelf, and catches for his mafter.
Fet. A good fwift fimile, but fomething currifh. Tra. 'Tis well, fir, that you hunted for yourself: 'Tis thought, your deer does hold you at a bay.
Bap. O, o, Petruchio, Tranio hits you now.
[drinks to Hortenfio.
[Exe. Bianca, Cath. and Widow.
How now! what news?
Bion. Sir, my mistress fends you word
That she is bufy, and cannot come.
Pet. How! fhe's busy, and cannot come! is that an answer? Gre. Ay, and a kind one too:
Pray god, fir, your wife send you not a worse.
Pet. I hope, better.
Hor. Sirrah Biondello, go, and entreat my wife to come to me forthwith. [Exit Biondello. Pet. Oh ho! entreat her! nay, then she needs must come. Hor. I am afraid, fir, do what you can,
Yours will not be entreated. 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..
Bap. Now, by my hollidam, here comes Catharine.
Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder.
Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and quiet life,
Enter Catharina, Bianca, and Widow. See where fhe comes, and brings your froward wives As prifoners to her womanly perfuafion : Catharine, that cap of yours becomes 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,