She says you have some goodly jest in hand:
She will not come: she bids you come to her.

Sir, my mistress sends you word
That she is busy and she cannot come.

I go.

O! we are spoiled and--yonder he is: deny him,
forswear him, or else we are all undone.

Help, help, help! here's a madman will murder me.

What, my old worshipful old master? yes, marry, sir:
see where he looks out of the window.

Forgot you! no, sir: I could not forget you, for I
never saw you before in all my life.

Hope I may choose, sir.

I have seen them in the church together: God send
'em good shipping! But who is here? mine old
master Vincentio! now we are undone and brought to nothing.

Nay, faith, I'll see the church o' your back; and
then come back to my master's as soon as I can.

Softly and swiftly, sir; for the priest is ready.

I cannot tarry: I knew a wench married in an
afternoon as she went to the garden for parsley to
stuff a rabbit; and so may you, sir: and so, adieu,
sir. My master hath appointed me to go to Saint
Luke's, to bid the priest be ready to ...

I cannot tell; expect they are busied about a
counterfeit assurance: take you assurance of her,
'cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum:' to the
church; take the priest, clerk, and some sufficient
honest witnesses: If this be not that you look for,
I have no more to say, But bid Bianca ...

The old priest of Saint Luke's church is at your
command at all hours.

His daughter is to be brought by you to the supper.

Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking with the
deceiving father of a deceitful son.

Faith, nothing; but has left me here behind, to
expound the meaning or moral of his signs and tokens.

You saw my master wink and laugh upon you?

Cambio!

I pray the gods she may with all my heart!

I told him that your father was at Venice,
And that you look'd for him this day in Padua.

Tut, fear not me.

Aside As much as an apple doth an oyster,
and all one.

Master, a mercatante, or a pedant,
I know not what; but format in apparel,
In gait and countenance surely like a father.

O master, master, I have watch'd so long
That I am dog-weary: but at last I spied
An ancient angel coming down the hill,
Will serve the turn.

Nay, by Saint Jamy,
I hold you a penny,
A horse and a man
Is more than one,
And yet not many.

No, sir, I say his horse comes, with him on his back.

Who? that Petruchio came?

Why, sir, he comes not.

O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned
like the horse; with a linen stock on one leg and a
kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered with a red
and blue list; an old hat and 'the humour of forty
fancies' pricked in't for a feather: a monster ...

Why, Petruchio is coming in a new hat and an old
jerkin, a pair of old breeches thrice turned, a pair
of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled,
another laced, an old rusty sword ta'en out of the
town-armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless;
with two broken ...

When he stands where I am and sees you there.

He is coming.

Why, no, sir.

Why, is it not news, to hear of Petruchio's coming?

Master, master! news, old news, and such news as
you never heard of!

He that has the two fair daughters: is't he you mean?

The better for him: would I were so too!

I, sir! ne'er a whit.

Where have I been! Nay, how now! where are you?
Master, has my fellow Tranio stolen your clothes? Or
you stolen his? or both? pray, what's the news?