Kitabı oku: «The Taming of the Shrew», sayfa 4

ACT IV. SCENE I. PETRUCHIO'S country house

Enter GRUMIO

 
  GRUMIO. Fie, fie on all tired jades, on all mad masters, and
all
    foul ways! Was ever man so beaten? Was ever man so ray'd? Was
    ever man so weary? I am sent before to make a fire, and they
are
    coming after to warm them. Now were not I a little pot and
soon
    hot, my very lips might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the
roof
    of my mouth, my heart in my belly, ere I should come by a
fire to
    thaw me. But I with blowing the fire shall warm myself; for,
    considering the weather, a taller man than I will take cold.
    Holla, ho! Curtis!
 

Enter CURTIS

 
  CURTIS. Who is that calls so coldly?
  GRUMIO. A piece of ice. If thou doubt it, thou mayst slide from
my
    shoulder to my heel with no greater a run but my head and my
    neck. A fire, good Curtis.
  CURTIS. Is my master and his wife coming, Grumio?
  GRUMIO. O, ay, Curtis, ay; and therefore fire, fire; cast on no
    water.
  CURTIS. Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported?
  GRUMIO. She was, good Curtis, before this frost; but thou
know'st
    winter tames man, woman, and beast; for it hath tam'd my old
    master, and my new mistress, and myself, fellow Curtis.
  CURTIS. Away, you three-inch fool! I am no beast.
  GRUMIO. Am I but three inches? Why, thy horn is a foot, and so
long
    am I at the least. But wilt thou make a fire, or shall I
complain
    on thee to our mistress, whose hand- she being now at hand-
thou
    shalt soon feel, to thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy
hot
    office?
  CURTIS. I prithee, good Grumio, tell me how goes the world?
  GRUMIO. A cold world, Curtis, in every office but thine; and
    therefore fire. Do thy duty, and have thy duty, for my master
and
    mistress are almost frozen to death.
  CURTIS. There's fire ready; and therefore, good Grumio, the
news?
  GRUMIO. Why, 'Jack boy! ho, boy!' and as much news as thou
wilt.
  CURTIS. Come, you are so full of cony-catching!
  GRUMIO. Why, therefore, fire; for I have caught extreme cold.
    Where's the cook? Is supper ready, the house trimm'd, rushes
    strew'd, cobwebs swept, the serving-men in their new fustian,
    their white stockings, and every officer his wedding-garment
on?
    Be the jacks fair within, the jills fair without, the carpets
    laid, and everything in order?
  CURTIS. All ready; and therefore, I pray thee, news.
  GRUMIO. First know my horse is tired; my master and mistress
fall'n
    out.
  CURTIS. How?
  GRUMIO. Out of their saddles into the dirt; and thereby hangs a
    tale.
  CURTIS. Let's ha't, good Grumio.
  GRUMIO. Lend thine ear.
  CURTIS. Here.
  GRUMIO. There. [Striking him]
  CURTIS. This 'tis to feel a tale, not to hear a tale.
  GRUMIO. And therefore 'tis call'd a sensible tale; and this
cuff
    was but to knock at your car and beseech list'ning. Now I
begin:
    Imprimis, we came down a foul hill, my master riding behind
my
    mistress-
  CURTIS. Both of one horse?
  GRUMIO. What's that to thee?
  CURTIS. Why, a horse.
  GRUMIO. Tell thou the tale. But hadst thou not cross'd me, thou
    shouldst have heard how her horse fell and she under her
horse;
    thou shouldst have heard in how miry a place, how she was
    bemoil'd, how he left her with the horse upon her, how he
beat me
    because her horse stumbled, how she waded through the dirt to
    pluck him off me, how he swore, how she pray'd that never
pray'd
    before, how I cried, how the horses ran away, how her bridle
was
    burst, how I lost my crupper- with many things of worthy
memory,
    which now shall die in oblivion, and thou return
unexperienc'd to
    thy grave.
  CURTIS. By this reck'ning he is more shrew than she.
  GRUMIO. Ay, and that thou and the proudest of you all shall
find
    when he comes home. But what talk I of this? Call forth
    Nathaniel, Joseph, Nicholas, Philip, Walter, Sugarsop, and
the
    rest; let their heads be sleekly comb'd, their blue coats
brush'd
    and their garters of an indifferent knit; let them curtsy
with
    their left legs, and not presume to touch a hair of my
master's
    horse-tail till they kiss their hands. Are they all ready?
  CURTIS. They are.
  GRUMIO. Call them forth.
  CURTIS. Do you hear, ho? You must meet my master, to
countenance my
    mistress.
  GRUMIO. Why, she hath a face of her own.
  CURTIS. Who knows not that?
  GRUMIO. Thou, it seems, that calls for company to countenance
her.
  CURTIS. I call them forth to credit her.
  GRUMIO. Why, she comes to borrow nothing of them.
 

Enter four or five SERVINGMEN

 
  NATHANIEL. Welcome home, Grumio!
  PHILIP. How now, Grumio!
  JOSEPH. What, Grumio!
  NICHOLAS. Fellow Grumio!
  NATHANIEL. How now, old lad!
  GRUMIO. Welcome, you! – how now, you! – what, you! – fellow, you! -
and
    thus much for greeting. Now, my spruce companions, is all
ready,
    and all things neat?
  NATHANIEL. All things is ready. How near is our master?
  GRUMIO. E'en at hand, alighted by this; and therefore be not-
   Cock's passion, silence! I hear my master.
 

Enter PETRUCHIO and KATHERINA

 
  PETRUCHIO. Where be these knaves? What, no man at door
    To hold my stirrup nor to take my horse!
    Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Philip?
  ALL SERVANTS. Here, here, sir; here, sir.
  PETRUCHIO. Here, sir! here, sir! here, sir! here, sir!
    You logger-headed and unpolish'd grooms!
    What, no attendance? no regard? no duty?
    Where is the foolish knave I sent before?
  GRUMIO. Here, sir; as foolish as I was before.
  PETRUCHIO. YOU peasant swain! you whoreson malt-horse drudge!
    Did I not bid thee meet me in the park
    And bring along these rascal knaves with thee?
  GRUMIO. Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully made,
    And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i' th' heel;
    There was no link to colour Peter's hat,
    And Walter's dagger was not come from sheathing;
    There were none fine but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory;
    The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly;
    Yet, as they are, here are they come to meet you.
  PETRUCHIO. Go, rascals, go and fetch my supper in.
                                   Exeunt some of the SERVINGMEN
 
 
    [Sings] Where is the life that late I led?
             Where are those-
 
 
Sit down, Kate, and welcome. Soud, soud, soud, soud!
 

Re-enter SERVANTS with supper

 
    Why, when, I say? Nay, good sweet Kate, be merry.
    Off with my boots, you rogues! you villains, when?
 
 
    [Sings] It was the friar of orders grey,
             As he forth walked on his way-
 
 
    Out, you rogue! you pluck my foot awry;
    Take that, and mend the plucking off the other.
                                                   [Strikes him]
    Be merry, Kate. Some water, here, what, ho!
 

Enter one with water

 
    Where's my spaniel Troilus? Sirrah, get you hence,
    And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither:
                                                 Exit SERVINGMAN
    One, Kate, that you must kiss and be acquainted with.
    Where are my slippers? Shall I have some water?
    Come, Kate, and wash, and welcome heartily.
    You whoreson villain! will you let it fall? [Strikes him]
  KATHERINA. Patience, I pray you; 'twas a fault unwilling.
  PETRUCHIO. A whoreson, beetle-headed, flap-ear'd knave!
    Come, Kate, sit down; I know you have a stomach.
    Will you give thanks, sweet Kate, or else shall I?
    What's this? Mutton?
  FIRST SERVANT. Ay.
  PETRUCHIO. Who brought it?
  PETER. I.
  PETRUCHIO. 'Tis burnt; and so is all the meat.
    What dogs are these? Where is the rascal cook?
    How durst you villains bring it from the dresser
    And serve it thus to me that love it not?
    There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all;
                                [Throws the meat, etc., at them]
    You heedless joltheads and unmanner'd slaves!
    What, do you grumble? I'll be with you straight.
                                                 Exeunt SERVANTS
  KATHERINA. I pray you, husband, be not so disquiet;
    The meat was well, if you were so contented.
  PETRUCHIO. I tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away,
    And I expressly am forbid to touch it;
    For it engenders choler, planteth anger;
    And better 'twere that both of us did fast,
    Since, of ourselves, ourselves are choleric,
    Than feed it with such over-roasted flesh.
    Be patient; to-morrow 't shall be mended.
    And for this night we'll fast for company.
    Come, I will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. Exeunt
 

Re-enter SERVANTS severally

 
  NATHANIEL. Peter, didst ever see the like?
  PETER. He kills her in her own humour.
 

Re-enter CURTIS

 
  GRUMIO. Where is he?
  CURTIS. In her chamber. Making a sermon of continency to her,
    And rails, and swears, and rates, that she, poor soul,
    Knows not which way to stand, to look, to speak.
    And sits as one new risen from a dream.
    Away, away! for he is coming hither. Exeunt
 

Re-enter PETRUCHIO

 
  PETRUCHIO. Thus have I politicly begun my reign,
    And 'tis my hope to end successfully.
    My falcon now is sharp and passing empty.
    And till she stoop she must not be full-gorg'd,
    For then she never looks upon her lure.
    Another way I have to man my haggard,
    To make her come, and know her keeper's call,
    That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites
    That bate and beat, and will not be obedient.
    She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat;
    Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not;
    As with the meat, some undeserved fault
    I'll find about the making of the bed;
    And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster,
    This way the coverlet, another way the sheets;
    Ay, and amid this hurly I intend
    That all is done in reverend care of her-
    And, in conclusion, she shall watch all night;
    And if she chance to nod I'll rail and brawl
    And with the clamour keep her still awake.
    This is a way to kill a wife with kindness,
    And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong humour.
    He that knows better how to tame a shrew,
    Now let him speak; 'tis charity to show. Exit
 

SCENE II. Padua. Before BAPTISTA'S house

Enter TRANIO as LUCENTIO, and HORTENSIO as LICIO

 
  TRANIO. Is 't possible, friend Licio, that Mistress Bianca
    Doth fancy any other but Lucentio?
    I tell you, sir, she bears me fair in hand.
  HORTENSIO. Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said,
    Stand by and mark the manner of his teaching.
                                              [They stand aside]
 

Enter BIANCA, and LUCENTIO as CAMBIO

 
  LUCENTIO. Now, mistress, profit you in what you read?
  BIANCA. What, master, read you, First resolve me that.
  LUCENTIO. I read that I profess, 'The Art to Love.'
  BIANCA. And may you prove, sir, master of your art!
  LUCENTIO. While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart.
                                                   [They retire]
  HORTENSIO. Quick proceeders, marry! Now tell me, I pray,
    You that durst swear that your Mistress Blanca
    Lov'd none in the world so well as Lucentio.
  TRANIO. O despiteful love! unconstant womankind!
    I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful.
  HORTENSIO. Mistake no more; I am not Licio.
    Nor a musician as I seem to be;
    But one that scorn to live in this disguise
    For such a one as leaves a gentleman
    And makes a god of such a cullion.
    Know, sir, that I am call'd Hortensio.
  TRANIO. Signior Hortensio, I have often heard
    Of your entire affection to Bianca;
    And since mine eyes are witness of her lightness,
    I will with you, if you be so contented,
    Forswear Bianca and her love for ever.
  HORTENSIO. See, how they kiss and court! Signior Lucentio,
    Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow
    Never to woo her more, but do forswear her,
    As one unworthy all the former favours
    That I have fondly flatter'd her withal.
  TRANIO. And here I take the like unfeigned oath,
    Never to marry with her though she would entreat;
    Fie on her! See how beastly she doth court him!
  HORTENSIO. Would all the world but he had quite forsworn!
    For me, that I may surely keep mine oath,
    I will be married to a wealthy widow
    Ere three days pass, which hath as long lov'd me
    As I have lov'd this proud disdainful haggard.
    And so farewell, Signior Lucentio.
    Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks,
    Shall win my love; and so I take my leave,
    In resolution as I swore before. Exit
  TRANIO. Mistress Bianca, bless you with such grace
    As 'longeth to a lover's blessed case!
    Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle love,
    And have forsworn you with Hortensio.
  BIANCA. Tranio, you jest; but have you both forsworn me?
  TRANIO. Mistress, we have.
  LUCENTIO. Then we are rid of Licio.
  TRANIO. I' faith, he'll have a lusty widow now,
    That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day.
  BIANCA. God give him joy!
  TRANIO. Ay, and he'll tame her.
  BIANCA. He says so, Tranio.
  TRANIO. Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school.
  BIANCA. The taming-school! What, is there such a place?
  TRANIO. Ay, mistress; and Petruchio is the master,
    That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long,
    To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue.
 

Enter BIONDELLO

 
  BIONDELLO. O master, master, have watch'd so long
    That I am dog-weary; but at last I spied
    An ancient angel coming down the hill
    Will serve the turn.
  TRANIO. What is he, Biondello?
  BIONDELLO. Master, a mercatante or a pedant,
    I know not what; but formal in apparel,
    In gait and countenance surely like a father.
  LUCENTIO. And what of him, Tranio?
  TRANIO. If he be credulous and trust my tale,
    I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio,
    And give assurance to Baptista Minola
    As if he were the right Vincentio.
    Take in your love, and then let me alone.
                                      Exeunt LUCENTIO and BIANCA
 

Enter a PEDANT

 
  PEDANT. God save you, sir!
  TRANIO. And you, sir; you are welcome.
    Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest?
  PEDANT. Sir, at the farthest for a week or two;
    But then up farther, and as far as Rome;
    And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life.
  TRANIO. What countryman, I pray?
  PEDANT. Of Mantua.
  TRANIO. Of Mantua, sir? Marry, God forbid,
    And come to Padua, careless of your life!
  PEDANT. My life, sir! How, I pray? For that goes hard.
  TRANIO. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua
    To come to Padua. Know you not the cause?
    Your ships are stay'd 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 are but newly come,
    You might have heard it else proclaim'd about.
  PEDANT. Alas, sir, it is worse for me than so!
    For I have bills for money by exchange
    From Florence, and must here deliver them.
  TRANIO. Well, sir, to do you courtesy,
    This will I do, and this I will advise you-
    First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa?
  PEDANT. Ay, sir, in Pisa have I often been,
    Pisa renowned for grave citizens.
  TRANIO. Among them know you one Vincentio?
  PEDANT. I know him not, but I have heard of him,
    A merchant of incomparable wealth.
  TRANIO. He is my father, sir; and, sooth to say,
    In count'nance somewhat doth resemble you.
  BIONDELLO. [Aside] As much as an apple doth an oyster, and
all
    one.
  TRANIO. To save your life in this extremity,
    This favour will I do you for his sake;
    And think it not the worst of all your fortunes
    That you are like to Sir Vincentio.
    His name and credit shall you undertake,
    And in my house you shall be friendly lodg'd;
    Look that you take upon you as you should.
    You understand me, sir. So shall you stay
    Till you have done your business in the city.
    If this be court'sy, sir, accept of it.
  PEDANT. O, sir, I do; and will repute you ever
    The patron of my life and liberty.
  TRANIO. 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 assurance of a dow'r in marriage
    'Twixt me and one Baptista's daughter here.
    In all these circumstances I'll instruct you.
    Go with me to clothe you as becomes you. Exeunt
 

SCENE III. PETRUCHIO'S house

Enter KATHERINA and GRUMIO

 
  GRUMIO. No, no, forsooth; I dare not for my life.
  KATHERINA. The more my wrong, the more his spite appears.
    What, did he marry me to famish me?
    Beggars that come unto my father's door
    Upon entreaty have a present alms;
    If not, elsewhere they meet with charity;
    But I, who never knew how to entreat,
    Nor never needed that I should entreat,
    Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep;
    With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed;
    And that which spites me more than all these wants-
    He does it under name of perfect love;
    As who should say, if I should sleep or eat,
    'Twere deadly sickness or else present death.
    I prithee go and get me some repast;
    I care not what, so it be wholesome food.
  GRUMIO. What say you to a neat's foot?
  KATHERINA. 'Tis passing good; I prithee let me have it.
  GRUMIO. I fear it is too choleric a meat.
    How say you to a fat tripe finely broil'd?
  KATHERINA. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me.
  GRUMIO. I cannot tell; I fear 'tis choleric.
    What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
  KATHERINA. A dish that I do love to feed upon.
  GRUMIO. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.
  KATHERINA. Why then the beef, and let the mustard rest.
  GRUMIO. Nay, then I will not; you shall have the mustard,
    Or else you get no beef of Grumio.
  KATHERINA. Then both, or one, or anything thou wilt.
  GRUMIO. Why then the mustard without the beef.
  KATHERINA. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave,
                                                     [Beats him]
    That feed'st me with the very name of meat.
    Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you
    That triumph thus upon my misery!
    Go, get thee gone, I say.
 

Enter PETRUCHIO, and HORTENSIO with meat

 
  PETRUCHIO. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort?
  HORTENSIO. Mistress, what cheer?
  KATHERINA. Faith, as cold as can be.
  PETRUCHIO. Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully upon me.
    Here, love, thou seest how diligent I am,
    To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee.
    I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.
    What, not a word? Nay, then thou lov'st it not,
    And all my pains is sorted to no proof.
    Here, take away this dish.
  KATHERINA. I pray you, let it stand.
  PETRUCHIO. The poorest service is repaid with thanks;
    And so shall mine, before you touch the meat.
  KATHERINA. I thank you, sir.
  HORTENSIO. Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame.
    Come, Mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.
  PETRUCHIO. [Aside] Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest
me. -
    Much good do it unto thy gentle heart!
    Kate, eat apace. And now, my honey love,
    Will we return unto thy father's house
    And revel it as bravely as the best,
    With silken coats and caps, and golden rings,
    With ruffs and cuffs and farthingales and things,
    With scarfs and fans and double change of brav'ry.
    With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knav'ry.
    What, hast thou din'd? The tailor stays thy leisure,
    To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure.
 

Enter TAILOR

 
    Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments;
    Lay forth the gown.
 

Enter HABERDASHER

 
    What news with you, sir?
  HABERDASHER. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.
  PETRUCHIO. Why, this was moulded on a porringer;
    A velvet dish. Fie, fie! '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.
  KATHERINA. I'll have no bigger; this doth fit the time,
    And gentlewomen wear such caps as these.
  PETRUCHIO. When you are gentle, you shall have one too,
    And not till then.
  HORTENSIO. [Aside] That will not be in haste.
  KATHERINA. Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak;
    And speak I will. I am no child, no babe.
    Your betters have endur'd me say my mind,
    And if you cannot, best you stop your ears.
    My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,
    Or else my heart, concealing it, will break;
    And rather than it shall, I will be free
    Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.
  PETRUCHIO. Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap,
    A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie;
    I love thee well in that thou lik'st it not.
  KATHERINA. Love me or love me not, I like the cap;
    And it I will have, or I will have none. Exit HABERDASHER
  PETRUCHIO. Thy gown? Why, ay. Come, tailor, let us see't.
    O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here?
    What's this? A sleeve? 'Tis like a demi-cannon.
    What, up and down, carv'd like an appletart?
    Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash,
    Like to a censer in a barber's shop.
    Why, what a devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?
  HORTENSIO. [Aside] I see she's like to have neither cap nor
gown.
  TAILOR. You bid me make it orderly and well,
    According to the fashion and the time.
  PETRUCHIO. Marry, and did; but if you be rememb'red,
    I did not bid you mar it to the time.
    Go, hop me over every kennel home,
    For you shall hop without my custom, sir.
    I'll none of it; hence! make your best of it.
  KATHERINA. I never saw a better fashion'd gown,
    More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable;
    Belike you mean to make a puppet of me.
  PETRUCHIO. Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee.
  TAILOR. She says your worship means to make a puppet of her.
  PETRUCHIO. O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread, thou
      thimble,
    Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail,
    Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou-
    Brav'd in mine own house with a skein of thread!
    Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant;
    Or I shall so bemete thee with thy yard
    As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou liv'st!
    I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.
  TAILOR. Your worship is deceiv'd; the gown is made
    Just as my master had direction.
    Grumio gave order how it should be done.
  GRUMIO. I gave him no order; I gave him the stuff.
  TAILOR. But how did you desire it should be made?
  GRUMIO. Marry, sir, with needle and thread.
  TAILOR. But did you not request to have it cut?
  GRUMIO. Thou hast fac'd many things.
  TAILOR. I have.
  GRUMIO. Face not me. Thou hast brav'd many men; brave not me. I
    will neither be fac'd nor brav'd. I say unto thee, I bid thy
    master cut out the gown; but I did not bid him cut it to
pieces.
    Ergo, thou liest.
  TAILOR. Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify.
  PETRUCHIO. Read it.
  GRUMIO. The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so.
  TAILOR. [Reads] 'Imprimis, a loose-bodied gown'-
  GRUMIO. Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in the
    skirts of it and beat me to death with a bottom of brown
bread; I
    said a gown.
  PETRUCHIO. Proceed.
  TAILOR. [Reads] 'With a small compass'd cape'-
  GRUMIO. I confess the cape.
  TAILOR. [Reads] 'With a trunk sleeve'-
  GRUMIO. I confess two sleeves.
  TAILOR. [Reads] 'The sleeves curiously cut.'
  PETRUCHIO. Ay, there's the villainy.
  GRUMIO. Error i' th' bill, sir; error i' th' bill! I commanded
the
    sleeves should be cut out, and sew'd up again; and that I'll
    prove upon thee, though thy little finger be armed in a
thimble.
  TAILOR. This is true that I say; an I had thee in place where,
thou
    shouldst know it.
  GRUMIO. I am for thee straight; take thou the bill, give me thy
    meteyard, and spare not me.
  HORTENSIO. God-a-mercy, Grumio! Then he shall have no odds.
  PETRUCHIO. Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me.
  GRUMIO. You are i' th' right, sir; 'tis for my mistress.
  PETRUCHIO. Go, take it up unto thy master's use.
  GRUMIO. Villain, not for thy life! Take up my mistress' gown
for
    thy master's use!
  PETRUCHIO. Why, sir, what's your conceit in that?
  GRUMIO. O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for.
    Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use!
    O fie, fie, fie!
  PETRUCHIO. [Aside] Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor
paid. -
    Go take it hence; be gone, and say no more.
  HORTENSIO. Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown to-morrow;
    Take no unkindness of his hasty words.
    Away, I say; commend me to thy master. Exit TAILOR
  PETRUCHIO. Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father's
    Even in these honest mean habiliments;
    Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor;
    For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
    And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
    So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
    What, is the jay more precious than the lark
    Because his feathers are more beautiful?
    Or is the adder better than the eel
    Because his painted skin contents the eye?
    O no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse
    For this poor furniture and mean array.
    If thou account'st it shame, lay it on me;
    And therefore frolic; we will hence forthwith
    To feast and sport us at thy father's house.
    Go call my men, and let us straight to him;
    And bring our horses unto Long-lane end;
    There will we mount, and thither walk on foot.
    Let's see; I think 'tis now some seven o'clock,
    And well we may come there by dinner-time.
  KATHERINA. I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two,
    And 'twill be supper-time ere you come there.
  PETRUCHIO. It shall be seven ere I go to horse.
    Look what I speak, or do, or think to do,
    You are still crossing it. Sirs, let 't alone;
    I will not go to-day; and ere I do,
    It shall be what o'clock I say it is.
  HORTENSIO. Why, so this gallant will command the sun.
                                                          Exeunt