The more my wrong, the more his spite appears

Katherine
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 starved 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

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.
Grumio
What say you to a neat’s foot?
Katherine
’Tis passing good. I prithee let me have it.
Grumio
I fear it is too choleric a meat.
How say you to a fat tripe finely broiled?
Katherine
I like it well. Good Grumio, fetch it me.
Grumio
I cannot tell. I fear ’tis choleric.
What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
Katherine
A dish that I do love to feed upon.
Grumio
Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little.
Katherine
Why then, the beef, and let the mustard rest.
Grumio
Nay then, I will not. You shall have the mustard
Or else you get no beef of Grumio.
Katherine
Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.
Grumio
Why then, the mustard without the beef.
Katherine
Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave,
She  beats him.