William Shakespeare : Complete Collection (37 plays, 160 sonnets and 5 Poetry...)
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.
Pet.
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.
Kath.
Love me, or love me not, I like the cap,
And it I will have, or I will have none.
[Exit Haberdasher.]
Pet.
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 apple-tart?
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?
Hor. [Aside.]
I see she’s like to have neither cap nor gown.
Tai.
You bid me make it orderly and well,
According to the fashion and the time.
Pet.
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.
Kath.
I never saw a better fashion’d gown,
More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable.
Belike you mean to make a puppet of me.
Pet.
Why, true, he means to make a puppet of thee.
Tai. She says your worship means to make a puppet of her.
Pet.
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.
Tai.
Your worship is deceiv’d, the gown is made
Just as my master had direction.
Grumio gave order how it should be done.
Gru. I gave him no order, I gave him the stuff.
Tai. But how did you desire it should be made?
Gru. Marry, sir, with needle and thread.
Tai. But did you not request to have it cut?
Gru. Thou hast fac’d many things.
Tai. I have.
Gru. 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.
Tai. Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify.
Pet. Read it.
Gru. The note lies in ’s throat if he say I said so.
Tai. [Reads.] “Inprimis, a loose-bodied gown”—
Gru. 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 thread. I said a gown.
Pet. Proceed.
Tai. [Reads.] “With a small compass’d cape”—
Gru. I confess the cape.
Tai. [Reads.] “With a trunk sleeve”—
Gru. I confess two sleeves.
Tai. [Reads.] “The sleeves curiously cut.”
Pet. Ay, there’s the villainy.
Gru. 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 arm’d in a thimble.
Tai. This is true that I say; and I had thee in place where, thou shouldst know it.
Gru. I am for thee straight. Take thou the bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me.
Hor. God-a-mercy, Grumio, then he shall have no odds.
Pet. Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me.
Gru. You are i’ th’ right, sir, ’tis for my mistress.
Pet. Go take it up unto thy master’s use.
Gru. Villain, not for thy life! Take up my mistress’ gown for thy master’s use!
Pet. Why, sir, what’s your conceit in that?
Gru.
O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for:
Take up my mistress’ gown to his master’s use!
O fie, fie, fie!
Pet. [Aside.]
Hortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor paid.–
Go take it hence, be gone, and say no more.
Hor.
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.
Pet.
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