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PETRUCHIO:
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Prithee, Kate, let's stand aside and see the end of
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this controversy.
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TRANIO:
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Sir, what are you that offer to beat my servant?
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VINCENTIO:
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What am I, sir! nay, what are you, sir? O immortal
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gods! O fine villain! A silken doublet! a velvet
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hose! a scarlet cloak! and a copatain hat! O, I
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am undone! I am undone! while I play the good
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husband at home, my son and my servant spend all at
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the university.
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TRANIO:
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How now! what's the matter?
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BAPTISTA:
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What, is the man lunatic?
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TRANIO:
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Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentleman by your
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habit, but your words show you a madman. Why, sir,
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what 'cerns it you if I wear pearl and gold? I
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thank my good father, I am able to maintain it.
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VINCENTIO:
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Thy father! O villain! he is a sailmaker in Bergamo.
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BAPTISTA:
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You mistake, sir, you mistake, sir. Pray, what do
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you think is his name?
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VINCENTIO:
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His name! as if I knew not his name: I have brought
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him up ever since he was three years old, and his
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name is Tranio.
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Pedant:
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Away, away, mad ass! his name is Lucentio and he is
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mine only son, and heir to the lands of me, Signior Vincentio.
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VINCENTIO:
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Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his master! Lay hold
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on him, I charge you, in the duke's name. O, my
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son, my son! Tell me, thou villain, where is my son Lucentio?
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TRANIO:
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Call forth an officer.
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Carry this mad knave to the gaol. Father Baptista,
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I charge you see that he be forthcoming.
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VINCENTIO:
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Carry me to the gaol!
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GREMIO:
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Stay, officer: he shall not go to prison.
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BAPTISTA:
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Talk not, Signior Gremio: I say he shall go to prison.
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GREMIO:
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Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be
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cony-catched in this business: I dare swear this
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is the right Vincentio.
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Pedant:
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Swear, if thou darest.
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GREMIO:
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Nay, I dare not swear it.
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TRANIO:
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Then thou wert best say that I am not Lucentio.
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GREMIO:
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Yes, I know thee to be Signior Lucentio.
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BAPTISTA:
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Away with the dotard! to the gaol with him!
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VINCENTIO:
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Thus strangers may be hailed and abused: O
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monstrous villain!
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BIONDELLO:
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O! we are spoiled and--yonder he is: deny him,
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forswear him, or else we are all undone.
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LUCENTIO:
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VINCENTIO:
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Lives my sweet son?
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BIANCA:
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Pardon, dear father.
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BAPTISTA:
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