Aur. To marry me for the safeguard of your credit, and that suddenly; for I have made a vow that, unless you will do it without delay, I'll not have you at all.
Luc. Some politician counsel me! There's no such torment to a woman, though she affect a thing ever so earnestly, yet to be forced to it.
Aur. What, are you agreed?
Luc. Well, you are a tyrant, lead on: what must be, must be; but if there were any other way in the earth to save my reputation, I'd never have thee.
Aur. Then I must do you a courtesy against your will. [Exeunt.
Enter Petrucio and Cook.
Pet. Come, honest cook, let me see how thy imagination has wrought, as well as thy fingers, and what curiosity thou hast shown in the preparation of this banquet; for gluttoning delights to be ingenious.
Cook. I have provided you a feast, sir, of twelve dishes, whereof each of them is an emblem of one of the twelve signs in the Zodiac.
Pet. Well said! Who will now deny that cookery is a mystery?
Cook. Look you, sir, there is the list of them.