How well he's read, to reason against reading!
We will have rings and things, and fine array, And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o' Sunday.
Why should I play the Roman fool and die On my own sword?
See what a grace was seated on this brow: Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself, An eye like Mars, to threaten and command.
Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you—trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and as I may say, the whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness.
Were it good To set the exact wealth of all our states All at one cast? to set so rich a main On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour? It were not good.
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one half so good a grace As mercy does.
Katherina. Asses are made to bear, and so are you. Petruchio. Women are made to bear, and so are you. Katherina. No such jade as you, if me you mean.
Still be kind, And eke out our performance with your mind.
It is the part of men to fear and tremble When the most mighty gods by tokens send Such dreadful heralds to astonish us.