Tra. Of Mantua, fir? Marry, God forbid! And come to Padua, careless of your life?

Ped. My life, fir! how, I pray you; for that goes hard.

Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua

To come to Padua: Know you not the cause?
Your ships are staid at Venice; and the duke
(For private quarrel 'twixt your duke and him,)
Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly:
'Tis marvel; but that you're but newly come,
You might have heard it elfe proclaim'd about.
Ped. Alas, fir, it is worfe for me than fo;
For I have bills for mony by exchange
From Florence, and muft here deliver them.
Tra. Well, fir, to do you courtesy,
This will I do, and this will I advise you;
First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa?
Ped. Ay, fir, in Pifa have I often been:
Pifa, renowned for grave citizens.

Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio? Ped. I know him not, but I have heard of him; A merchant of incomparable wealth.

Tra. He is my father, fir; and, footh to fay, In countenance fomewhat doth refemble you.

Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all

one.

Tra. To fave your life in this extremity,

This favour will I do you for his fake:

[Afide.

And think it not the worst of all your fortunes,
That you are like to fir Vincentio.

His name and credit fhall you undertake,

And in my houfe you fhall be friendly lodg'd:-
Look, that you take upon you as you should.
You understand me, fir; fo fhall you stay,

"Till you

have done your bufinefs in the city. If this be courtefy, fir, accept of it.

Ped. Oh, fir, I do; and will repute you ever

The

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 affurance of a dower in marriage 'Twixt me and one Baptifta's daughter here: In all these circumftances I'll instruct you: 7 Go with me, fir, to cloath you as becomes you.

SCENE III.

Enter Catharine and Grumio.

[Exeunt.

Gru. No, no, forfooth; I dare not for my life, Cath. The more my wrong, the more his fpite ap

pears:

What, did he marry me to famish me?
Beggars, that come unto my father's door,
Upon intreaty, have a prefent alms;
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity:
But I, who never knew how to intreat,
Nor never needed that I should intreat,

Am ftarv'd for meat, giddy for lack of fleep;
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed:
And that, which fpites me more than all these wants,
He does it under name of perfect love;

As who would fay, If I fhould fleep, or eat,
'Twere deadly fickness, or elfe prefent death.-

1 Go with me, &c.] There is an old comedy called Suppofes, tranflated from Ariofto, by George Gascoigne. Thence Shakefpeare borrowed this part of the plot, (as well as fome of the phrafeology) though Theobald pronounces it his own invention. There likewife he found the quaint name of Petruchio. My young mafter and his man exchange habits, and perfuade a Scenefe, as he is called, to perfonate the jather, exactly as in this play, by the pretended danger of his coming from Sienna to Ferrara, contrary, to the order of the government, FARMER.

I pr'ythee

I pr'ythee go, and get me fome repast;
I care not what, fo it be wholesome food.
Gru. What say you to a neat's foot?

Caib. 'Tis paffing good; I pr'ythee, let me have it. Gru. I fear, it is too flegmatick a meat :How fay you to a fat tripe finely broil'd?

Cath. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me. Gru. I cannot tell;-I fear, it's cholerick. What fay you to a piece of beef, and mustard? Cath. A difh, that I do love to feed upon. Gru. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. Cath. Why, then the beef, and let the mustard reft.

Gru. Nay, then I will not; you fhall have the mustard,

Or else you get no beef of Grumio.

Cath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt. Gru. Why, then the mustard without the beef. Cath. Go, get thee gone, thou falfe deluding flave, [Beats bim. That feed'ft me with the very name of meat: Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you, That triumph thus upon my mifery! Go, get thee gone, I say.

Enter Petruchio and Hortenfio, with meat.

Pet. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort?

Hor. Miftrefs, what cheer?

Cath. 'Faith, as cold as can be.

Pet. Pluck up thy fpirits, look cheerfully upon

me.

Here, love; thou feeft how diligent I am,
To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee:
I'm fure, fweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.
What, not a word? Nay then, thou lov'st it not;

And

And all my pains is forted to no proof.
Here, take away the dish.

Cath. I pray you let it ftand.

Pet. The pooreft fervice is repaid with thanks; And fo fhall mine, before you touch the meat. Cath. I thank you, fir.

Hor. Signior Petruchio, fy! you are to blame : Come, miftrefs Kate, I'll bear you company. Pet. Eat it up all, Hortenfio, if thou lov'ft me.

Much good do it unto thy gentle heart!
Kate, eat apace :-And now, my honey-love,
Will we return unto thy father's houfe;
And revel it as bravely as the best,

[Afide.

With filken coats, and caps, and golden rings, With ruffs, and cuffs, and fardingals, and things; With fcarfs, and fans, and double change of bravery, With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery. What, haft thou din'd? The taylor ftays thy leisure, To deck thy body with his rufiling treasure.

Enter Taylor.

Come, taylor, let us fee thefe ornaments.
Enter Haberdasher.

Lay forth the gown. What news with you, fir?
Hab. Here is the cap your worship did befpeak.

And all my pains is forted to no proof.] And all my labour has ended in nothing, or proved nothing. We tried an experiment, bat it forted not. Bacon. JOHNSON.

9-fardingals, and things:] Though things is a poor word, yet I have no better, and perhaps the authour had not another that would rhyme. I once thought to tranfpofe the words rings and things, but it would make little improvement. JOHNSON.

However poor the word, the poet must be anfwerable for it, as he had ufed it before, act ii. fc. 5, when the rhime did not force it upon him.

We will have rings, and things, and fine array.

STEEVENS.

Pet.

Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer,
A velvet difh; fy, fy! '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.

Cath. I'll have no bigger; this doth fit the time, And gentlewomen wear fuch caps as thefe.

Pet. When you are gentle, you fhall have one too, And not 'till then.

Hor. That will not be in hafte.

Cath. Why, fir, I truft, I may have leave to speak,

And speak I will. I am no child, no babe:
Your betters have endur'd me fay my mind;
And, if you cannot, best you stop your ears.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart;
Or, elfe my heart, concealing it, will break:
And rather than it fhall, I will be free
Even to the uttermoft, as I please, in words.

Pet. Why, thou fay'ft true; it is a paltry cap.
A cuftard-coffin, a bauble, a filken pie:
I love thee well, in that thou lik'ft it not.

Cath. Love me, or love me not, I like the cap;
And it I will have, or I will have none.

Pet. Thy gown? why, ay.- Come, taylor, let us fee't.

O mercy, heaven! what mafking stuff is here?
What's this? a fleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon:
What! up and down, carv'd like an apple-tart?
Here's fnip, and nip, and cut, and flifh, and flash,

I

Why, fir, I truft, I may have leave to speak, &c.] Shakefpeare has here copied nature with great skill. Petruchio, by frightening, ftarving, and overwatching his wife, had tamed her into gentleness and fubmiffion. And the audience expects to hear no more of the fhrew: when on her being croffed, in the article of fashion and finery, the moft inveterate folly of the fex, fhe flies out again, though for the laft time, into all the intemperate rage of her nature. WARBURTON.