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KATHARINA: |
I know it is the moon. |
PETRUCHIO: |
Nay, then you lie: it is the blessed sun. |
KATHARINA: |
Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun: |
But sun it is not, when you say it is not; |
And the moon changes even as your mind. |
What you will have it named, even that it is; |
And so it shall be so for Katharina. |
HORTENSIO: |
Petruchio, go thy ways; the field is won. |
PETRUCHIO: |
Well, forward, forward! thus the bowl should run, |
And not unluckily against the bias. |
But, soft! company is coming here. |
Good morrow, gentle mistress: where away? |
Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, |
Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman? |
Such war of white and red within her cheeks! |
What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty, |
As those two eyes become that heavenly face? |
Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee. |
Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake. |
HORTENSIO: |
A' will make the man mad, to make a woman of him. |
KATHARINA: |
Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet, |
Whither away, or where is thy abode? |
Happy the parents of so fair a child; |
Happier the man, whom favourable stars |
Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow! |
PETRUCHIO: |
Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art not mad: |
This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd, |
And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is. |
KATHARINA: |
Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes, |
That have been so bedazzled with the sun |
That everything I look on seemeth green: |
Now I perceive thou art a reverend father; |
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking. |
PETRUCHIO: |
Do, good old grandsire; and withal make known |
Which way thou travellest: if along with us, |
We shall be joyful of thy company. |
VINCENTIO: |
Fair sir, and you my merry mistress, |
That with your strange encounter much amazed me, |
My name is call'd Vincentio; my dwelling Pisa; |
And bound I am to Padua; there to visit |
A son of mine, which long I have not seen. |
PETRUCHIO: |
What is his name? |
VINCENTIO: |
Lucentio, gentle sir. |
PETRUCHIO: |
Happily we met; the happier for thy son. |
And now by law, as well as reverend age, |
I may entitle thee my loving father: |
The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman, |
Thy son by this hath married. Wonder not, |
Nor be grieved: she is of good esteem, |
Her dowery wealthy, and of worthy birth; |
Beside, so qualified as may beseem |
The spouse of any noble gentleman. |
Let me embrace with old Vincentio, |
And wander we to see thy honest son, |
Who will of thy arrival be full joyous. |
VINCENTIO: |
But is it true? or else is it your pleasure, |
Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest |
Upon the company you overtake? |
HORTENSIO: |
I do assure thee, father, so it is. |
PETRUCHIO: |
Come, go along, and see the truth hereof; |
For our first merriment hath made thee jealous. |
HORTENSIO: |
Well, Petruchio, this has put me in heart. |
Have to my widow! and if she be froward, |
Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be untoward. |
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