Petruchio. Why, how now, Kate, I hope thou art not mad:
This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd,
And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is.
Katherine. Pardon, old father, my mistaken eyes
That have been so bedazed with the sun
That everything I look on seemeth green.
Now I perceive thou art a reverend father.
The whole is carried on with equal spirit, as if the poet's comic
Muse had wings of fire. It is strange how one man could be so many
things; but so it is. The concluding scene, in which trial is made
of the obedience of the new-married wives (so triumphantly for
Petruchio), is a very happy one.--In some parts of this play there
is a little too much about music-masters and masters of philosophy.
They were things of greater rarity in those days than they are now.
Nothing, however, can be better than the advice which Tranio gives
his master for the prosecution of his studies:
The mathematics, and the metaphysics,
Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you:
No profit grows, where is no pleasure ta'en:
In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
We have heard the Honey-Moon called 'an elegant Katherine and
Petruchio'. We suspect we do not understand this word ELEGANT in the
sense that many people do. But in our sense of the word, we should
call Lucentio's description of his mistress elegant:
Tranio.
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