Shakespeare's First Folio
Chapter 199 : Petr. Conceiues by me, how likes Hortentio that?Hor. My Widdow saies, thus she conceiu

Petr. Conceiues by me, how likes Hortentio that?

Hor. My Widdow saies, thus she conceiues her tale

Petr. Verie well mended: kisse him for that good Widdow

Kat. He that is giddie thinkes the world turnes round, I praie you tell me what you meant by that

Wid. Your housband being troubled with a shrew, Measures my husbands sorrow by his woe: And now you know my meaning

Kate. A verie meane meaning

Wid. Right, I meane you

Kat. And I am meane indeede, respecting you

Petr. To her Kate

Hor. To her Widdow

Petr. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down

Hor. That's my office Petr. Spoke like an Officer: ha to the lad.

Drinkes to Hortentio.

Bap. How likes Gremio these quicke witted folkes?

Gre. Beleeue me sir, they But together well

Bian. Head, and but an hastie witted bodie, Would say your Head and But were head and horne

Vin. I Mistris Bride, hath that awakened you?

Bian. I, but not frighted me, therefore Ile sleepe againe

Petr. Nay that you shall not since you haue begun: Haue at you for a better iest or too

Bian. Am I your Bird, I meane to s.h.i.+ft my bush, And then pursue me as you draw your Bow.

You are welcome all.

Exit Bianca.

Petr. She hath preuented me, here signior Tranio, This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not, Therefore a health to all that shot and mist

Tri. Oh sir, Lucentio slipt me like his Gray-hound, Which runs himselfe, and catches for his Master

Petr. A good swift simile, but something currish

Tra. 'Tis well sir that you hunted for your selfe: 'Tis thought your Deere does hold you at a baie

Bap. Oh, oh Petruchio, Tranio hits you now

Luc. I thanke thee for that gird good Tranio

Hor. Confesse, confesse, hath he not hit you here?

Petr. A has a little gald me I confesse: And as the Iest did glaunce awaie from me, 'Tis ten to one it maim'd you too out right

Bap. Now in good sadnesse sonne Petruchio, I thinke thou hast the veriest shrew of all

Petr. Well, I say no: and therefore sir a.s.surance, Let's each one send vnto his wife, And he whose wife is most obedient, To come at first when he doth send for her, Shall win the wager which we will propose

Hort. Content, what's the wager?

Luc. Twentie crownes

Petr. Twentie crownes, Ile venture so much of my Hawke or Hound, But twentie times so much vpon my Wife

Luc. A hundred then

Hor. Content

Petr. A match, 'tis done

Hor. Who shall begin?

Luc. That will I.

Goe Biondello, bid your Mistris come to me

Bio. I goe.

Enter.

Bap. Sonne, Ile be your halfe, Bianca comes

Luc. Ile haue no halues: Ile beare it all my selfe.

Enter Biondello.

How now, what newes?

Bio. Sir, my Mistris sends you word That she is busie, and she cannot come

Petr. How? she's busie, and she cannot come: is that an answere?

Gre. I, and a kinde one too: Praie G.o.d sir your wife send you not a worse

Petr. I hope better

Hor. Sirra Biondello, goe and intreate my wife to come to me forthwith.

Exit. Bion.

Pet. Oh ho, intreate her, nay then shee must needes come

Hor. I am affraid sir, doe what you can Enter Biondello.

Yours will not be entreated: Now, where's my wife?

Bion. She saies you haue some goodly Iest in hand, She will not come: she bids you come to her