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Hor. Mates, maid! how mean you that? no mates
Unless you were of gentler, milder mould.
Cath. I'faith, Sir, you shall never need to fear.
Hor. From all such devils, good Lord deliver us !
Cath. A pretty peat ! it is best put finger in the eye, an she knew why.
Bian. Sister, content you in my discontent.
Gre. Why will you mew her up,
Bap. Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolv’d.
Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio,
Cath. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not? What, fhall I be appointed hours, as tho', belike, I knew not what to take, and what to leave! ha!
[Exit. S CE N E III. Gre. You may go to the devil's dam. Your gifts are to good, here is none will hold you. Our love is not so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our pails toge her, and fast it fairly out. Our cake's dough on both fides. Farewell. Yet for the love I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit man to teach her that wherein the delights, I will wish him to her father.
Hor. So will I, Signior Gremio. But a word, I pray; though the nature of our quarrel never yet brook'd parle, know now, upon advice, it toucheth us both, that we may yet again have acceis to our fair mistreis, and be happy rivals in Bianca's lo e, to labour and effe&t one thing 'Ipecially.
Gre. What's that, I pray ?
Gre. I say a devil. Think'st thou, Hortenfio, tho' her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to hell ?
Hor. Tush, Gremio ;-tho' it pass your patience and mine to endure her loud alarms, why, man, there be good fellows in the world, an' a man could light on them, would take her with all her faults, and money enough.
Gre. I cannot tell ; but I had as lief take her dowry with this condition, to be whip'd at the high cross every morning:
Hor. 'Faith, as you say, there's a small choice in rotten apples. But come, lince this bar in law makes us friends, it shall be so far forth friendly maintain'd, 'till by helping Baptista's eldest daugh ter to a husband, we let his youngest free for a husband, and then have to't afrelhi. Sweet Bianca ! happy man be his dole! he that runs fastest gets the ring; how fay you, Signior Gremio ?
Gre. I am agreed; and would I had given him the best horse in Padua to begin his wooing, that would thoroughly woo her, wed her, and bed her, and rid the house of her. Come on.
[Exeunt Gremio and Hortensio.
S CE N E IV.
Manent Tranio and Lucentio.
Luc. Oh Tranio, 'till I found it to be true,
I'ra. Master, it is no time to chide you now;
• The next line from Terence, shews that we should read, “ If love hath toild you,”-i. e. taken you in his toils, his nets. Alluding to the captus eft habet, of the fame author. Warburton.
+ Our author had this line from Lilly; which I mention, that it may not be brought as an argument of his learning. Fobufon.
Luc. Gramercy, lad; go forward, this contents; The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound.
Tra. Master, you lookd so longly on the maid, Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all.
Luc. O yes, I saw fweet beauty in her face; Such as the daughter of Agenor had, That made great Jove to humble him to her hand, When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand. Tra. Saw you no more ? mark'd you not how
her filter Began to fcold, and raise up such a storm, That mortal ears might hardly endure the din ?
Luc. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move, And with her breath she did perfume the air ; Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her.
Trå. Nay, then'tis time to stir him from his trance.
Luc. Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father's he !
Tra. Ay, marry am I, Sir; and now 'tis ploited.
Tra. Master, for my hand,
Luc. Tell me thine first.
Tra. You will be schoolinaster,
Luc. It is : may it be done?
Tra. Not pollible: for wlo fhall bear your part, And be in Padua here Vincentio's lon, Keep house, and ply his book, welcome his friends, Visit his counirymen, and banquet them?
Luc. Bafta ;-content thee; for I have it full. We have not yet been seen in any house,
Nor can we be distinguish'd by our faces,
port *, and servants, as I should.
Tra. So had you need. [They exchange rabits,
Luc. Tranio, be lo, because Lucentio loves;
Bion. Where have I been? nay, how now, where are you? Master, has my fellow Tranio stolien your cloaths, or you stollen his, or both ? pray, what's the news?
Luc. Sirrah, come hither: 'tis no tiine to jest;
Bion. Ay, Sir, ne'er a whit.
* Port is figure, Mhow, appearance. Vol. III.