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Kath.

Of all thy suitors here I charge [thee] tell

Whom thou lov’st best; see thou dissemble not.

Bian.

Believe me, sister, of all the men alive

I never yet beheld that special face

Which I could fancy more than any other.

Kath.

Minion, thou liest. Is’t not Hortensio?

Bian.

If you affect him, sister, here I swear

I’ll plead for you myself, but you shall have him.

Kath.

O then belike you fancy riches more:

You will have Gremio to keep you fair.

Bian.

Is it for him you do envy me so?

Nay then you jest, and now I well perceive

You have but jested with me all this while.

I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands.

Kath.

If that be jest, then all the rest was so.

Strikes her.

Enter Baptista.

Bap.

Why, how now, dame, whence grows this insolence?

Bianca, stand aside. Poor girl, she weeps.

Go ply thy needle, meddle not with her.

For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit,

Why dost thou wrong her that did ne’er wrong thee?

When did she cross thee with a bitter word?

Kath.

Her silence flouts me, and I’ll be reveng’d.