Original Text
SCENE III. A room in Petruchio's house. Enter Katherina and Grumio.
Original Text
GRUMIO. No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my life.
Original Text
KATHERINA. 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.
Original Text
GRUMIO. What say you to a neat's foot?
Original Text
KATHERINA. 'Tis passing good; I prithee let me have it.
Original Text
GRUMIO. I fear it is too choleric a meat. How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd?
Original Text
KATHERINA. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me.
Original Text
GRUMIO. I cannot tell; I fear 'tis choleric. What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
Original Text
KATHERINA. A dish that I do love to feed upon.
Original Text
GRUMIO. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.
Original Text
KATHERINA. Why then the beef, and let the mustard rest.
Original Text
GRUMIO. Nay, then I will not: you shall have the mustard, Or else you get no beef of Grumio.
Original Text
KATHERINA. Then both, or one, or anything thou wilt.
Original Text
GRUMIO. Why then the mustard without the beef.
Original Text
KATHERINA. 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.
Original Text
Enter Petruchio with a dish of meat; and Hortensio. PETRUCHIO. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort? HORTENSIO. Mistress, what cheer? KATHERINA. Faith, as cold as can be.
Original Text
PETRUCHIO. Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully upon me. Here, love; thou seest how diligent I am, To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee: [_Sets the dish on a table._] I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. What! not a word? Nay, then thou lov'st it not, And all my pains is sorted to no proof. Here, take away this dish.
Original Text
KATHERINA. I pray you, let it stand.
Original Text
PETRUCHIO. The poorest service is repaid with thanks; And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.
Original Text
KATHERINA. I thank you, sir.
Original Text
HORTENSIO. Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame. Come, Mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.
Original Text
PETRUCHIO. [_Aside._] 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 farthingales and things; With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery, With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery. What! hast thou din'd? The tailor stays thy leisure, To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure.
Original Text
Enter Tailor. Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments; Lay forth the gown.— Enter Haberdasher. What news with you, sir?
Original Text
HABERDASHER. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.
Original Text
PETRUCHIO. 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.
Original Text
KATHERINA. I'll have no bigger; this doth fit the time, And gentlewomen wear such caps as these.
Original Text
PETRUCHIO. When you are gentle, you shall have one too, And not till then. HORTENSIO. [_Aside_] That will not be in haste.
Original Text
KATHERINA. 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.
Original Text
PETRUCHIO. 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 lik'st it not.
Original Text
KATHERINA. Love me or love me not, I like the cap; And it I will have, or I will have none. [_Exit Haberdasher._]
Original Text
PETRUCHIO. 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, 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 i' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this? HORTENSIO. [_Aside_] I see she's like to have neither cap nor gown.
Original Text
TAILOR. You bid me make it orderly and well, According to the fashion and the time.
Original Text
PETRUCHIO. 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.
Original Text
KATHERINA. I never saw a better fashion'd gown, More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable; Belike you mean to make a puppet of me.
Original Text
PETRUCHIO. Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee.
Original Text
TAILOR. She says your worship means to make a puppet of her.
Original Text
PETRUCHIO. 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.
Original Text
TAILOR. Your worship is deceiv'd: the gown is made Just as my master had direction. Grumio gave order how it should be done.
Original Text
GRUMIO. I gave him no order; I gave him the stuff.
Original Text
TAILOR. But how did you desire it should be made?
Original Text
GRUMIO. Marry, sir, with needle and thread.
Original Text
TAILOR. But did you not request to have it cut?
Original Text
GRUMIO. Thou hast faced many things. TAILOR. I have. GRUMIO. Face not me. Thou hast braved many men; brave not me: I will neither be fac'd nor brav'd. 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.
Original Text
TAILOR. Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify. PETRUCHIO. Read it. GRUMIO. The note lies in 's throat, if he say I said so.
Original Text
TAILOR. 'Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown.' GRUMIO. 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. PETRUCHIO. Proceed.
Original Text
TAILOR. 'With a small compassed cape.' GRUMIO. I confess the cape. TAILOR. 'With a trunk sleeve.' GRUMIO. I confess two sleeves. TAILOR. 'The sleeves curiously cut.' PETRUCHIO. Ay, there's the villainy.
Original Text
GRUMIO. Error i' the bill, sir; error i' the bill. I commanded the sleeves should be cut out, and sew'd up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a thimble. TAILOR. This is true that I say; and I had thee in place where thou shouldst know it. GRUMIO. I am for thee straight; take thou the bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me. HORTENSIO. God-a-mercy, Grumio! Then he shall have no odds.
Original Text
PETRUCHIO. Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me. GRUMIO. You are i' the right, sir; 'tis for my mistress. PETRUCHIO. Go, take it up unto thy master's use. GRUMIO. Villain, not for thy life! Take up my mistress' gown for thy master's use! PETRUCHIO. Why, sir, what's your conceit in that? GRUMIO. O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for. Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use! O fie, fie, fie!
Original Text
PETRUCHIO. [_Aside_] Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid. [_To Tailor._] Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more. HORTENSIO. [_Aside to Tailor._] Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown tomorrow; Take no unkindness of his hasty words. Away, I say! commend me to thy master. [_Exit Tailor._]
Original Text
PETRUCHIO. 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.
Original Text
KATHERINA. I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two, And 'twill be supper-time ere you come there.
Original Text
PETRUCHIO. 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 today; and ere I do, It shall be what o'clock I say it is.
Original Text
HORTENSIO. Why, so this gallant will command the sun. [_Exeunt._]
