Shakespeare's First Folio Part 187
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Bap. Why then thou canst not break her to the Lute?
Hor. Why no, for she hath broke the Lute to me: I did but tell her she mistooke her frets, And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering, When (with a most impatient diuellish spirit) Frets call you these? (quoth she) Ile fume with them: And with that word she stroke me on the head, And through the instrument my pate made way, And there I stood amazed for a while, As on a Pillorie, looking through the Lute, While she did call me Rascall, Fidler, And tw.a.n.gling Iacke, with twentie such vilde tearmes, As had she studied to misvse me so
Pet. Now by the world, it is a l.u.s.tie Wench, I loue her ten times more then ere I did, Oh how I long to haue some chat with her
Bap. Wel go with me, and be not so discomfited.
Proceed in practise with my yonger daughter, She's apt to learne, and thankefull for good turnes: Signior Petruchio, will you go with vs, Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you.
Exit. Manet Petruchio.
Pet. I pray you do. Ile attend her heere, And woo her with some spirit when she comes, Say that she raile, why then Ile tell her plaine, She sings as sweetly as a Nightinghale: Say that she frowne, Ile say she lookes as cleere As morning Roses newly washt with dew: Say she be mute, and will not speake a word, Then Ile commend her volubility, And say she vttereth piercing eloquence: If she do bid me packe, Ile giue her thankes, As though she bid me stay by her a weeke: If she denie to wed, Ile craue the day When I shall aske the banes, and when be married.
But heere she comes, and now Petruchio speake.
Enter Katerina
Good morrow Kate, for thats your name I heare
Kate. Well haue you heard, but something hard of hearing: They call me Katerine, that do talke of me
Pet. You lye infaith, for you are call'd plaine Kate, And bony Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst: But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendome, Kate of Kate-hall, my super-daintie Kate, For dainties are all Kates, and therefore Kate Take this of me, Kate of my consolation, Hearing thy mildnesse prais'd in euery Towne, Thy vertues spoke of, and thy beautie sounded, Yet not so deepely as to thee belongs, My selfe am moou'd to woo thee for my wife
Kate. Mou'd, in good time, let him that mou'd you hether Remoue you hence: I knew you at the first You were a mouable
Pet. Why, what's a mouable?
Kat. A ioyn'd stoole
Pet. Thou hast hit it: come sit on me
Kate. a.s.ses are made to beare, and so are you
Pet. Women are made to beare, and so are you
Kate. No such Iade as you, if me you meane
Pet. Alas good Kate, I will not burthen thee, For knowing thee to be but yong and light
Kate. Too light for such a swaine as you to catch, And yet as heauie as my waight should be
Pet. Shold be, should: buzze
Kate. Well tane, and like a buzzard
Pet. Oh slow-wing'd Turtle, shal a buzard take thee?
Kat. I for a Turtle, as he takes a buzard
Pet. Come, come you Waspe, y'faith you are too angrie
Kate. If I be waspish, best beware my sting
Pet. My remedy is then to plucke it out
Kate. I, if the foole could finde it where it lies
Pet. Who knowes not where a Waspe does weare his sting? In his taile
Kate. In his tongue?
Pet. Whose tongue
Kate. Yours if you talke of tales, and so farewell
Pet. What with my tongue in your taile.
Nay, come againe, good Kate, I am a Gentleman, Kate. That Ile trie.
She strikes him
Pet. I sweare Ile cuffe you, if you strike againe
Kate. So may you loose your armes, If you strike me, you are no Gentleman, And if no Gentleman, why then no armes
Pet. A Herald Kate? Oh put me in thy bookes
Kate. What is your Crest, a c.o.xcombe?
Pet. A comblesse c.o.c.ke, so Kate will be my Hen
Kate. No c.o.c.ke of mine, you crow too like a crauen Pet. Nay come Kate, come: you must not looke so sowre
Kate. It is my fas.h.i.+on when I see a Crab
Pet. Why heere's no crab, and therefore looke not sowre
Kate. There is, there is
Pet. Then shew it me
Kate. Had I a gla.s.se, I would
Pet. What, you meane my face
Kate. Well aym'd of such a yong one
Pet. Now by S[aint]. George I am too yong for you
Kate. Yet you are wither'd
Pet. 'Tis with cares
Kate. I care not
Pet. Nay heare you Kate. Insooth you scape not so
Shakespeare's First Folio Part 187
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Shakespeare's First Folio Part 187 summary
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