The Taming of the Shrew
·IV iii 78 ·
Verse
Kate The more my wrong, the more his spite appears. What, did he marry me to famish me? Beggars that come unto my father's door Upon entreaty have a present alms; If not, elsewhere they meet with charity; But I, who never knew how to entreat, Nor never needed that I should entreat, Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of sleep; With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed; And that which spites me more than all these wants- He does it under name of perfect love; As who should say, if I should sleep or eat, 'Twere deadly sickness or else present death. I prithee go and get me some repast; I care not what, so it be wholesome food. |