Datasets:
Kyudan
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gpt2traindata

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Tailor:
GRUMIO:
I confess the cape.
Tailor:
GRUMIO:
I confess two sleeves.
Tailor:
PETRUCHIO:
Ay, there's the villany.
GRUMIO:
Error i' the bill, sir; error i' the bill.
I commanded the sleeves should be cut out and
sewed up again; and that I'll prove upon thee,
though thy little finger be armed in a thimble.
Tailor:
This is true that I say: an I had thee
in place where, thou shouldst know it.
GRUMIO:
I am for thee straight: take thou the
bill, give me thy mete-yard, and spare not me.
HORTENSIO:
God-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall have no odds.
PETRUCHIO:
Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for me.
GRUMIO:
You are i' the right, sir: 'tis for my mistress.
PETRUCHIO:
Go, take it up unto thy master's use.
GRUMIO:
Villain, not for thy life: take up my mistress'
gown for thy master's use!
PETRUCHIO:
Why, sir, what's your conceit in that?
GRUMIO:
O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you think for:
Take up my mistress' gown to his master's use!
O, fie, fie, fie!
PETRUCHIO:
HORTENSIO:
Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown tomorrow:
Take no unkindness of his hasty words:
Away! I say; commend me to thy master.
PETRUCHIO:
Well, come, my Kate; we will unto your father's
Even in these honest mean habiliments:
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor;
For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
What is the jay more precious than the lark,
Because his fathers are more beautiful?
Or is the adder better than the eel,
Because his painted skin contents the eye?
O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse
For this poor furniture and mean array.
if thou account'st it shame. lay it on me;
And therefore frolic: we will hence forthwith,
To feast and sport us at thy father's house.
Go, call my men, and let us straight to him;
And bring our horses unto Long-lane end;
There will we mount, and thither walk on foot
Let's see; I think 'tis now some seven o'clock,
And well we may come there by dinner-time.
KATHARINA:
I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two;
And 'twill be supper-time ere you come there.
PETRUCHIO:
It shall be seven ere I go to horse:
Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do,
You are still crossing it. Sirs, let't alone:
I will not go to-day; and ere I do,
It shall be what o'clock I say it is.
HORTENSIO:
TRANIO:
Sir, this is the house: please it you that I call?
Pedant:
Ay, what else? and but I be deceived