Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.
Enter Katherina and Grumio.
Gru. No, no forsooth I dare not for my life
Ka. The more my wrong, the more his spite appears. What, did he marrie me to famish me? Beggers that come vnto my fathers doore, Vpon intreatie haue a present almes, If not, elsewhere they meete with charitie: But I, who neuer knew how to intreat, Nor neuer needed that I should intreate, Am staru'd for meate, giddie for lacke of sleepe: With oathes kept waking, and with brawling fed, And that which spights me more then all these wants, He does it vnder name of perfect loue: As who should say, if I should sleepe or eate 'Twere deadly sicknesse, or else present death. I prethee go, and get me some repast, I care not what, so it be holsome foode
Gru. What say you to a Neats foote? Kate. 'Tis passing good, I prethee let me haue it
Gru. I feare it is too chollericke a meate. How say you to a fat Tripe finely broyl'd? Kate. I like it well, good Grumio fetch it me
Gru. I cannot tell, I feare 'tis chollericke. What say you to a peece of Beefe and Mustard? Kate. A dish that I do loue to feede vpon
Gru. I, but the Mustard is too hot a little
Kate. Why then the Beefe, and let the Mustard rest
Gru. Nay then I wil not, you shal haue the Mustard Or else you get no beefe of Grumio
Kate. Then both or one, or any thing thou wilt
Gru. Why then the Mustard without the beefe
Kate. Go get thee gone, thou false deluding slaue,
That feed'st me with the verie name of meate. Sorrow on thee, and all the packe of you That triumph thus vpon my misery: Go get thee gone, I say. Enter Petruchio, and Hortensio with meate
Petr. How fares my Kate, what sweeting all amort? Hor. Mistris, what cheere? Kate. Faith as cold as can be
Pet. Plucke vp thy spirits, looke cheerfully vpon me. Heere Loue, thou seest how diligent I am, To dresse thy meate my selfe, and bring it thee. I am sure sweet Kate, this kindnesse merites thankes. What, not a word? Nay then, thou lou'st it not: And all my paines is sorted to no proofe. Heere take away this dish
Kate. I pray you let it stand
Pet. The poorest seruice is repaide with thankes, And so shall mine before you touch the meate
Kate. I thanke you sir
Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie you are too blame: Come Mistris Kate, Ile beare you companie
Petr. Eate it vp all Hortensio, if thou louest mee: Much good do it vnto thy gentle heart: Kate eate apace; and now my honie Loue, Will we returne vnto thy Fathers house, And reuell it as brauely as the best, With silken coats and caps, and golden Rings, With Ruffes and Cuffes, and Fardingales, and things: With Scarfes, and Fannes, & double change of brau'ry, With Amber Bracelets, Beades, and all this knau'ry. What hast thou din'd? The Tailor staies thy leasure, To decke thy bodie with his ruffling treasure. Enter Tailor.
Come Tailor, let vs see these ornaments. Enter Haberdasher.
Lay forth the gowne. What newes with you sir? Fel. Heere is the cap your Worship did bespeake
Pet. Why this was moulded on a porrenger, A Veluet dish: Fie, fie, 'tis lewd and filthy, Why 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell, A knacke, a toy, a tricke, a babies cap: Away with it, come let me haue a bigger
Kate. Ile haue no bigger, this doth fit the time, And Gentlewomen weare such caps as these