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. Asses 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 Coxcombe? Pet. A comblesse Cocke, so Kate will be my Hen
Kate. No Cocke of mine, you crow too like a crauen Pet. Nay come Kate, come: you must not looke so sowre
Kate. It is my fashion 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 glasse, 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
Kate. I chafe you if I tarrie. Let me go
Pet. No, not a whit, I finde you passing gentle: 'Twas told me you were rough, and coy, and sullen, And now I finde report a very liar: For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous, But slow in speech: yet sweet as spring-time flowers. Thou canst not frowne, thou canst not looke a sconce, Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will, Nor hast thou pleasure to be crosse in talke: But thou with mildnesse entertain'st thy wooers, With gentle conference, soft, and affable. Why does the world report that Kate doth limpe? Oh sland'rous world: Kate like the hazle twig Is straight, and slender, and as browne in hue As hazle nuts, and sweeter then the kernels: Oh let me see thee walke: thou dost not halt