Gru. I, but the Mustard is too hot a little
Kate. Why then the Beefe, and let the Mustard rest
Gru. Nay then I wil not, you shal haue the Mustard
Or else you get no beefe of Grumio
Kate. Then both or one, or any thing thou wilt
Gru. Why then the Mustard without the beefe
Kate. Go get thee gone, thou false deluding slaue,
Beats him.
That feed'st me with the verie name of meate.
Sorrow on thee, and all the packe of you
That triumph thus vpon my misery:
Go get thee gone, I say.
Enter Petruchio, and Hortensio with meate
Petr. How fares my Kate, what sweeting all amort?
Hor. Mistris, what cheere?
Kate. Faith as cold as can be
Pet. Plucke vp thy spirits, looke cheerfully vpon me.
Heere Loue, thou seest how diligent I am,
To dresse thy meate my selfe, and bring it thee.
I am sure sweet Kate, this kindnesse merites thankes.
What, not a word? Nay then, thou lou'st it not:
And all my paines is sorted to no proofe.
Heere take away this dish