_Hor._ Signior Petruchio, fie! you are to blame. Come, Mistress Kate, I'll bear you company. _Pet._ Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest me. [_Aside._ 50 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, 55 With ruffs and cuffs and fardingales and things; With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery, With amber bracelets, beads and all this knavery. What, hast thou dined? The tailor stays thy leisure, To deck thy body with his ruffling treasure. 60 _Enter_ Tailor. Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments; Lay forth the gown. _Enter_ Haberdasher. What news with you, sir? _Hab._ Here is the cap your worship did bespeak. _Pet._ Why, this was moulded on a porringer; A velvet dish: fie, fie! 'tis lewd and filthy: 65 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. _Kath._ I'll have no bigger: this doth fit the time And gentlewomen wear such caps as these. 70 _Pet._ When you are gentle, you shall have one too, And not till then. _Hor._ That will not be in haste. [_Aside._ _Kath._ Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak; And speak I will; I am no child, no babe: Your betters have endured me say my mind, 75 And if you cannot, best you stop your ears. My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, Or else my heart concealing it will break; And rather than it shall, I will be free Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words. 80 _Pet._ Why, thou say'st true; it is a paltry cap, A custard-coffin, a bauble, a silken pie: I love thee well, in that thou likest it not. _Kath._ Love me or love me not, I like the cap; And it I will have, or I will have none. 85 [_Exit Haberdasher._ _Pet._ 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, 90 Like to a censer in a barber's shop: Why, what, i' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this? _Hor._ I see she's like to have neither cap nor gown. [_Aside._ _Tai._ You bid me make it orderly and well, According to the fashion and the time. 95