[Enter Petruchio and Hortensio with meat.]
Pet. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort?
Hor. Mistress, what cheer?
Kath. [Faith,] as cold as can be.
Pet. Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully upon me.
Here, love; thou see'st how diligent I am
[To dress] thy meat myself and bring it thee:
[I am] sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.
What, not a word? Nay, then thou lovest it not;