That she is busy, and she cannot come.
Pet. How! she is busy, and she cannot come !
Is that an answer?
Gre.
Ay, and a kind one too:
Pray heaven, sir, your wife send you not a worse.
Pet. I hope, better.

[wife
Hor. Sirrah, Biondello, go, and entreat my
To come to me forthwith. [Exit Biondello.
Pet.
O, ho! entreat her!
Nay, then she must needs come.
Hor.
I am afraid, sir,
Do what you can, yours will not be entreated.
Re-enter Biondello,

Now, where's my wife?

[hand; B. She says, you have some goodly jest in She will not come; she bids you come to her. Pet. Worse, and worse; she will not come! Intolerable, not to be endur'd! [O vile, Sirrah, Grumio, go to your mistress; Say, I command her come to me. [Exit Grumio. Hor. I know her answer.

What?

Pet.
Hor.
She will not come.
P. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.

come,

Enter Katherina.

Bap. Now, by my holidame, here comes Katharina? [me? K. What is your will, sir, that you send for P. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's wife? Kath. They sit conferring by the parlour fire. Pet. Go fetch them hither; if they deny to Tbands: Swingel me them soundly forth unto their husAway, I say, and bring them hither straight. [Exit Katharina. Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talk of a wonder. Hor. And so it is; I wonder what it bodes. P. Marry, peace it bodes, and love and quiet life,

An awful rule, and right supremacy; [happy;
And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and
Bap. Now fair befal thee, good Petruchio!
The wager thou hast won; and I will add
Unto their losses twenty thousand crowns;
Another dowry to another daughter,
For she is chang'd, as she had never been.
Pet. Nay, I will win my wager better yet;
And show more sign of her obedience,
Her new-built virtue and obedience.
Re-enter Katharina, with Bianca and Widow.
See, where she comes; and brings your froward
wives

As prisoners to her womanly persuasion.-
Katharine, that cap of yours becomes you not:
Off with that bauble, throw it under foot.

[Kath. pulls off her cap, and throws it down. Wid. Well! let me never have a cause to sigh, Till I be brought to such a silly pass!

Bian. Fie! what a foolish duty call you this? Luc. I would, your duty were as foolish too: The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, [time. Hath cost me an hundred crowns since supperB. The more fool you, for laying on my duty. Pet. Katharine, I charge thee, tell these headstrong women [bands.

What duty they do owe their lords and hus1 Sway

And dart not scornful glances from those eyes,
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor;
It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads;
Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair
And in no sense is meet, or amiable. [buds,
A woman mov'd, is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty;
And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance: commits his body
To painful labour, both by sea and land;
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe;
And craves no other tribute at thy hands,
But love, fair looks, and true obedience;-
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Even such, a woman oweth to her husband:
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
And when she's froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And not obedient, to his honest will,
What is she, but a foul contending rebel,
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
I am asham'd, that women are so simple
To offer war, where they should kneel for peace:
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway,
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey.
Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world;
But that our soft conditions1 and our hearts,
Should well agree with our external parts?
My mind hath been as big as one of yours,
Come, come, you froward and unable worms!
My heart as great; my reason, haply more
To bandy word for word, and frown for frown:
But now, I see our lances are but straws; [pare,-
Our strength as weak, our weakness past com-
That seeming to be most, which we least are.
Then vail your stomachs, 2 for it is no boot;
And place your hands below your husband's
foot:

In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready, may it do him ease.

Pet. Why, there's a wench!-Come on, and
kiss me, Kate.
[ha't.
L. Well, go thy ways, old lad; for thou shalt
Vin. 'Tis a good hearing, when children are
toward.
[froward.
Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are
Pet. Come, Kate, we'll to bed:-

We three are married, but you two are sped. [To Lucentio.] 'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the white:

And, being a winner, God give you good night! [Exeunt Petruchio and Kath. Hor. Now go thy ways, thou hast tam'd a curst shrew.

Luc. "Tis a wonder, by your leave, she will be tam'd so. [Exeunt.

This is put forth too truly! Besides, I have stay'd
To tire your royalty.
Leon.

We are tougher, brother,
Than you can put us to't.
Pol.

No longer stay.
Leon. One seven-night longer.
Pol.
Very sooth, to-morrow.
Leon. We'll part the time between's then:
I'll no gainsaying.
[and in that
Pol.
Press me not, 'beseech you so:
There is no tongue that moves, none, none i'
the world,

So soon as yours, could win me: so it should now,
Were there necessity in your request, although
"Twere needful I denied it. My affairs
Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder,
Were, in your love, a whip to me; my stay,
To you a charge, and trouble: to save both,
Farewell, our brother.

Leon. Tongue-tied, our queen? speak you. H. I had thought, sir, to have held my peace, until

You had drawn oaths from him, not to stay.
You, sir,

Charge him too coldly: Tell him, you are sure,
All in Bohemia's well: this satisfaction, 1
The by-gone day proclaim'd; say this to him,
He's beat from his best ward.

Leon.
Well said, Hermione.
H. To tell, he longs to see his son, were strong;
But let him say so then, and let him go;
But let him say so, and he shall not stay,
We'll thwack him hence with distaffs.-
[To Polixenes.] Yet of your royal presence I'll
adventure

The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia
You take my lord, I'll give him my commission,
To let him there a month, behind the gest2
Prefix'd for his parting: yet, good deed, Leontes,
I love thee not a jar of the clock behind
What lady she her lord.-You'll stay?
Pol.

No, madam. I may not, verily.

Her. Nay, but you will. Pol.

Her. Verily!

You put me off with limber5 vows: But I, Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with oaths,

Should yet say, Sir, no going. Verily,
You shall not go; a lady's verily is
As potent as a lord's. Will you go yet?
Force me to keep you as a prisoner,
Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees,
When you depart, and save your thanks. How
say you?

My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread verily,
One of them you shall be.
Pol.

Your guest then, madam:
To be your prisoner, should import offending;
Which is for me less easy to commit,"
Than you to punish.

Pol. We were, fair queen, Two lads, that thought there was no more behind, But such a day to-morrow as to-day, And to be boy eternal.

H. Was not my lord the verier wag o' the two? Pol. We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i' the sun,

And bleat the one at the other; what we chang'd,
Was innocence for innocence; we knew not
The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor dream'd
That any did: Had we pursued that life,
And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd
With stronger blood, we should have answer'd

heaven

Boldly, Not Guilty: the imposition clear'd,
Hereditary ours.
Her.
By this we gather,
You have tripp'd since.
Pol.
O my most sacred lady,
Temptations have since then been born to us: for
In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl;
Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes
Of my young play-fellow.
Her.
Grace to boot!
Of this make no conclusion; lest you say,
Your queen and I are devils: Yet, go on;
The offences we have made you do, we'll answer;
If you first sinn'd with us, and that with us
You did continue fault, and that you slipp'd not
With any but with us.

Leon.

Is he won yet ? Her. He'll stay, my lord. Leon. At my request, he would not. Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok'st To better purpose. Her.

Leon.

Never?

was't before?

Never, but once.

Her. What? have I twice said well? when [make us I pr'ythee, tell me: Cram us with praise, andAs fat as tame things: One good deed, dying tongueless,

Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that.
Our praises are our wages: You may ride us,
With one soft kiss, a thousand furlongs, cre
With spur we heat an acre. But to the gaol;-
My last good deed was, to entreat his stay;
What was my first? it has an elder sister,
Or Imistake you: O, would her name were Grace
But once before I spoke to the purpose: When?
Nay, let me have't, I long.

Leon.

Why, that was when Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death,

Ere could make thee open thy white hand, And clap thyself my love; then didst thou utter, I am yours for ever.

Her.

It is Grace, indeed. [twice: Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose The one for ever earn'd a royal husband; The other, for some while a friend.

[Giving her hand to Polixenes. Leon. [Aside.] Too hot, too hot: To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods. I have tremor cordis1 on me:-my heart dances;" But not for joy,-not joy.-This entertainment May a free face put on: derive a liberty

1 Trembling of the heart.

S

Be it forbid, my lord!

L. To bide upon't;-Thou art not honest: or, If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward; Which hoxes2 honesty behind, restraining From course required: Or else thou must be A servant, grafted in my serious trust, [counted And therein negligent; or else a fool, That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake And tak'st it all for jest. [drawn,

Cam. My gracious lord, I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful; In every one of these no man is free, But that his negligence, his folly, fear, Amongst the infinite doings of the world, Sometime puts forth: In your affairs, my lord, If ever I were wilful-negligent, It was my folly; if industriously I play'd the fool, it was my negligence Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful To do a thing, where I the issue doubted, Whereof the execution did cry out Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear Which oft affects the wisest: these, my lord, Are such allow'd infirmities, that honesty Is never free of. But, 'beseech your grace, Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass By its own visage: if I then deny it, "Tis none of mine.

Leon. Have not you seen, Camillo, (But that's past doubt: you have) or heard (For, to a vision so apparent, rumour Cannot be mute,) or thought (for cogitation Resides not in that man, that does not think it.) My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess, (Or else be impudently negative,

To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought,) then say,
My wife's a woman that deserves a name
Too rank to mention: say it, and justify it.

Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to hear
My sovereign mistress clouded so, without
My present vengeance taken: 'Shrew my heart,
You never spoke what did become you less
Than this: which to reiterate, were sin
As deep as that, though true.

Leon. Is whispering nothing? Is leaning cheek to cheek? Is meeting noses? Kissing with inside lips? stopping the career Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible Of breaking honesty:) wishing clocks more swift? 2 Hamstrings.

1 Inferiors.

It is; you lie, you lie: I say, thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee; Pronounce thee a gross lout: a mindless slave: Or else a hovering temporizer, that Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, Inclining to them both: Were my wife's liver Infected as her life, she would not live The running of one glass.

Cam.

Who does infect her?
Leon. Why he, that wears her like her medal,
About his neck, Bohemia: Who-if I [hanging
Had servants true about me, that bare eyes
To see alike mine honour as their profits,
Their own particular thrifts,-they would do that
Which should undo more doing: Ay, and thou,
His cup bearer,-whom I from meaner form [see
Have bench'd, and rear'd to worship; who may'st
Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees
heaven,

How I am galled,-thou might'st bespice a cup,
To give mine enemy a lasting wink;
Which draught to me were cordial.

Cam.

Sir, my lord, I could do this: and that with no rash potion, But with a lingering dram, that should not work Maliciously like poison: But I cannot Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress, So sovereignly being honourable. I have lov'd thee,

'Leon. Make 't thy question, and go rot! Dost think, I am so muddy, so unsettled, To appoint myself in this vexation? sully The purity and whiteness of my sheets, Which to preserve, is sleep; which being spotted, Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps? Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son, Who, I do think, is mine, and love as mine; Without ripe moving to't? Would I do this? Could man so blench 2?

Cam. I must believe you, sir; I do and will fetch off Bohemia for't: Provided, that when he's remov'd, your highness Will take again your queen, as yours at first; Even for your son's sake: and, thereby, for sealing The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms Known and allied to yours.

Leon. Thou dost advise me, Even so as I mine own course have set down: I'll give no blemish to her honour, none. Cam. My lord,

Go then; and with a countenance as clear Asfriendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia And with your queen: I am his cupbearer;