GRUMIO. I fear it is too choleric a meat. How say you to a fat tripe finely broil’d? KATHERINA. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me. GRUMIO. I cannot tell; I fear ’tis choleric. What say you to a piece of beef and mustard? KATHERINA. A dish that I do love to feed upon. GRUMIO. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. KATHERINA. Why then the beef, and let the mustard rest. GRUMIO. Nay, then I will not: you shall have the mustard, Or else you get no beef of Grumio. KATHERINA. Then both, or one, or anything thou wilt. GRUMIO. Why then the mustard without the beef. KATHERINA. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, [_Beats him._] That feed’st me with the very name of meat. Sorrow on thee and all the pack of you That triumph thus upon my misery! Go, get thee gone, I say. Enter Petruchio with a dish of meat; and Hortensio. PETRUCHIO. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, all amort? HORTENSIO. Mistress, what cheer? KATHERINA. Faith, as cold as can be. PETRUCHIO. Pluck up thy spirits; look cheerfully upon me. Here, love; thou seest how diligent I am, To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee: [_Sets the dish on a table._] I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. What! not a word? Nay, then thou lov’st it not, And all my pains is sorted to no proof. Here, take away this dish. KATHERINA. I pray you, let it stand. PETRUCHIO. The poorest service is repaid with thanks; And so shall mine, before you touch the meat. KATHERINA. I thank you, sir. HORTENSIO. Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame. Come, Mistress Kate, I’ll bear you company. PETRUCHIO. [_Aside._] Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest me. Much good do it unto thy gentle heart! Kate, eat apace: and now, my honey love, Will we return unto thy father’s house And revel it as bravely as the best, With silken coats and caps, and golden rings, With ruffs and cuffs and farthingales and things; With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery, With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery. What! hast thou din’d? The tailor stays thy leisure, To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure. Enter Tailor. Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments; Lay forth the gown.— Enter Haberdasher. What news with you, sir? HABERDASHER. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak. PETRUCHIO. Why, this was moulded on a porringer; A velvet dish: fie, fie! ’tis lewd and filthy: Why, ’tis a cockle or a walnut-shell, A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby’s cap: Away with it! come, let me have a bigger. KATHERINA. I’ll have no bigger; this doth fit the time, And gentlewomen wear such caps as these. PETRUCHIO. When you are gentle, you shall have one too, And not till then. HORTENSIO. [_Aside_] That will not be in haste.