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A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie:
I love thee well, in that thou likest it not.
KATHARINA:
Love me or love me not, I like the cap;
And it I will have, or I will have none.
PETRUCHIO:
Thy gown? why, ay: come, tailor, let us see't.
O mercy, God! what masquing stuff is here?
What's this? a sleeve? 'tis like a demi-cannon:
What, up and down, carved like an apple-tart?
Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash,
Like to a censer in a barber's shop:
Why, what, i' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?
HORTENSIO:
Tailor:
You bid me make it orderly and well,
According to the fashion and the time.
PETRUCHIO:
Marry, and did; but if you be remember'd,
I did not bid you mar it to the time.
Go, hop me over every kennel home,
For you shall hop without my custom, sir:
I'll none of it: hence! make your best of it.
KATHARINA:
I never saw a better-fashion'd gown,
More quaint, more pleasing, nor more commendable:
Belike you mean to make a puppet of me.
PETRUCHIO:
Why, true; he means to make a puppet of thee.
Tailor:
She says your worship means to make
a puppet of her.
PETRUCHIO:
O monstrous arrogance! Thou liest, thou thread,
thou thimble,
Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail!
Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou!
Braved in mine own house with a skein of thread?
Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant;
Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard
As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou livest!
I tell thee, I, that thou hast marr'd her gown.
Tailor:
Your worship is deceived; the gown is made
Just as my master had direction:
Grumio gave order how it should be done.
GRUMIO:
I gave him no order; I gave him the stuff.
Tailor:
But how did you desire it should be made?
GRUMIO:
Marry, sir, with needle and thread.
Tailor:
But did you not request to have it cut?
GRUMIO:
Thou hast faced many things.
Tailor:
I have.
GRUMIO:
Face not me: thou hast braved many men; brave not
me; I will neither be faced nor braved. I say unto
thee, I bid thy master cut out the gown; but I did
not bid him cut it to pieces: ergo, thou liest.
Tailor:
Why, here is the note of the fashion to testify
PETRUCHIO:
Read it.
GRUMIO:
The note lies in's throat, if he say I said so.
Tailor:
GRUMIO:
Master, if ever I said loose-bodied gown, sew me in
the skirts of it, and beat me to death with a bottom
of brown thread: I said a gown.
PETRUCHIO:
Proceed.