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b"Re-enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, and TRANIO
\\n PETRUCHIO. Here comes your father. Never make denial;
\\n I must and will have Katherine to my wife.
\\n BAPTISTA. Now, Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?
\\n PETRUCHIO. How but well, sir? how but well?
\\n It were impossible I should speed amiss.
\\n BAPTISTA. Why, how now, daughter Katherine, in your dumps?
\\n KATHERINA. Call you me daughter? Now I promise you
\\n You have show'd a tender fatherly regard
\\n To wish me wed to one half lunatic,
\\n A mad-cap ruffian and a swearing Jack,
\\n That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.
\\n PETRUCHIO. Father, 'tis thus: yourself and all the world
\\n That talk'd of her have talk'd amiss of her.
\\n If she be curst, it is for policy,
\\n For,she's not froward, but modest as the dove;
\\n She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;
\\n For patience she will prove a second Grissel,
\\n And Roman Lucrece for her chastity.
\\n And, to conclude, we have 'greed so well together
\\n That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.
\\n KATHERINA. I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first.
\\n GREMIO. Hark, Petruchio; she says she'll see thee hang'd first.
\\n TRANIO. Is this your speeding? Nay, then good-night our part!
\\n PETRUCHIO. Be patient, gentlemen. I choose her for myself;
\\n If she and I be pleas'd, what's that to you?
\\n 'Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
\\n That she shall still be curst in company.
\\n I tell you 'tis incredible to believe.
\\n How much she loves me- O, the kindest Kate!
\\n She hung about my neck, and kiss on kiss
\\n She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath,
\\n That in a twink she won me to her love.
\\n O, you are novices! 'Tis a world to see,
\\n How tame, when men and women are alone,
\\n A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew.
\\n Give me thy hand, Kate; I will unto Venice,
\\n To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day.
\\n Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests;
\\n I will be sure my Katherine shall be fine.
\\n BAPTISTA. I know not what to say; but give me your hands.
\\n God send you joy, Petruchio! 'Tis a match.
\\n GREMIO, TRANIO. Amen, say we; we will be witnesses.
\\n PETRUCHIO. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu.
\\n I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace;
\\n We will have rings and things, and fine array;
\\n And kiss me, Kate; we will be married a Sunday.
\\n Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHERINA severally
\\n GREMIO. Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly?
\\n BAPTISTA. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part,
\\n And venture madly on a desperate mart.
\\n TRANIO. 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you;
\\n 'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.
\\n BAPTISTA. The gain I seek is quiet in the match.
\\n GREMIO. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch.
\\n But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter:
\\n Now is the day we long have looked for;
\\n I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.
\\n TRANIO. And I am one that love Bianca more
\\n Than words can witness or your thoughts can guess.
\\n GREMIO. Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I.
\\n TRANIO. Greybeard, thy love doth freeze.
\\n GREMIO. But thine doth fry.
\\n Skipper, stand back; 'tis age that nourisheth.
\\n TRANIO. But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth.
\\n BAPTISTA. Content you, gentlemen; I will compound this strife.
\\n 'Tis deeds must win the prize, and he of both
\\n That can assure my daughter greatest dower
\\n Shall have my Bianca's love.
\\n Say, Signior Gremio, what can you assure her?
\\n GREMIO. First, as you know, my house within the city
\\n Is richly furnished with plate and gold,
\\n Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands;
\\n My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;
\\n In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns;
\\n In cypress chests my arras counterpoints,
\\n Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
\\n Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl,
\\n Valance of Venice gold in needle-work;
\\n Pewter and brass, and all things that belongs
\\n To house or housekeeping. Then at my farm
\\n I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
\\n Six score fat oxen standing in my stalls,
\\n And all things answerable to this portion.
\\n Myself am struck in years, I must confess;
\\n And if I die to-morrow this is hers,
\\n If whilst I live she will be only mine.
\\n TRANIO. That 'only' came well in. Sir, list to me:
\\n I am my father's heir and only son;
\\n If I may have your daughter to my wife,
\\n I'll leave her houses three or four as good
\\n Within rich Pisa's walls as any one
\\n Old Signior Gremio has in Padua;
\\n Besides two thousand ducats by the year
\\n Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure.
\\n What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio?
\\n GREMIO. Two thousand ducats by the year of land!
\\n [Aside] My land amounts not to so much in all.-
\\n That she shall have, besides an argosy
\\n That now is lying in Marseilles road.
\\n What, have I chok'd you with an argosy?
\\n TRANIO. Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less
\\n Than three great argosies, besides two galliasses,
\\n And twelve tight galleys. These I will assure her,
\\n And twice as much whate'er thou off'rest next.
\\n GREMIO. Nay, I have off'red all; I have no more;
\\n And she can have no more than all I have;
\\n If you like me, she shall have me and mine.
\\n TRANIO. Why, then the maid is mine from all the world
\\n By your firm promise; Gremio is out-vied.
\\n BAPTISTA. I must confess your offer is the best;
\\n And let your father make her the assurance,
\\n She is your own. Else, you must pardon me;
\\n If you should die before him, where's her dower?
\\n TRANIO. That's but a cavil; he is old, I young.
\\n GREMIO. And may not young men die as well as old?
\\n BAPTISTA. Well, gentlemen,
\\n I am thus resolv'd: on Sunday next you know
\\n My daughter Katherine is to be married;
\\n Now, on the Sunday following shall Bianca
\\n Be bride to you, if you make this assurance;
\\n If not, to Signior Gremio.
\\n And so I take my leave, and thank you both.
\\n GREMIO. Adieu, good neighbour. Exit BAPTISTA
\\n Now, I fear thee not.
\\n Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool
\\n To give thee all, and in his waning age
\\n Set foot under thy table. Tut, a toy!
\\n An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. Exit
\\n TRANIO. A vengeance on your crafty withered hide!
\\n Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten.
\\n 'Tis in my head to do my master good:
\\n I see no reason but suppos'd Lucentio
\\n Must get a father, call'd suppos'd Vincentio;
\\n And that's a wonder- fathers commonly
\\n Do get their children; but in this case of wooing
\\n A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning.
\\nExit
\\n
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