HORTENSIO.
Petruchio, go thy ways; the field is won.
PETRUCHIO.
Well, forward, forward! thus the bowl should run,
And not unluckily against the bias.
But, soft! Company is coming here.
Enter Vincentio, in a travelling dress.
[To Vincentio] Good morrow, gentle mistress; where away?
Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,
Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman?
Such war of white and red within her cheeks!
What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty
As those two eyes become that heavenly face?
Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee.
Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty’s sake.
HORTENSIO.
A will make the man mad, to make a woman of him.
KATHERINA.
Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet,
Whither away, or where is thy abode?
Happy the parents of so fair a child;
Happier the man whom favourable stars
Allot thee for his lovely bedfellow.
PETRUCHIO.
Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art not mad:
This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither’d,
And not a maiden, as thou sayst he is.
KATHERINA.
Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes,
That have been so bedazzled with the sun
That everything I look on seemeth green:
Now I perceive thou art a reverend father;
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.
PETRUCHIO.
Do, good old grandsire, and withal make known
Which way thou travellest: if along with us,
We shall be joyful of thy company.
VINCENTIO.
Fair sir, and you my merry mistress,
That with your strange encounter much amaz’d me,
My name is called Vincentio; my dwelling Pisa;
And bound I am to Padua, there to visit
A son of mine, which long I have not seen.