KATHARINE.
“Veal”, quoth the Dutchman. Is not veal a calf?
LONGAVILLE.
A calf, fair lady?
KATHARINE.
No, a fair lord calf.
LONGAVILLE.
Let’s part the word.
KATHARINE.
No, I’ll not be your half.
Take all and wean it; it may prove an ox.
LONGAVILLE.
Look how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks.
Will you give horns, chaste lady? Do not so.
KATHARINE.
Then die a calf before your horns do grow.
LONGAVILLE.
One word in private with you ere I die.
KATHARINE.
Bleat softly, then; the butcher hears you cry.
[They converse apart.]