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Baptista's House.
Enter Lucentio, Hortensio, and Bianca.

Idler, forbear; you grow too forward, Sir :

Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
Her sister Catharine welcom'd you withal?

Hor. Wrangling pedant, this is
The patroness of heavenly harmony :
Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in music we have spent an hour,
Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.

Luc. Preposterous ass! that never read so far
To know the cause why music was ordain'd:
Was it not to refresh the mind of man
After his studies, or his usual pain?
Then give me leave to read philofophy;
Ard, while I pause, serve in your harmony.

Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.

Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong, To strive for that which refteth in my choice : I am no breeching scholar in the Ichools; I'll not be tied to hours, nor pointed times, But learn my lessons as I please myself; And to cut off all strife, here sit we down, Take you your initrument, play you the while; His lecture will be done, ere you have tun'd. Hor. You'll leave his lecture, when I am in tune!

[Hortensio retires. Euc. That will be never'; tune your instrument. Bian. Where left we last? Luc. Here, Madam: Hac ibat Simois, hic eft Si

geia tellus, Hic fteterat Priami regia celfa senis.

Bian. Construe them.

Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio, hic eft, fon unto Lucentio of Puia,

Sigeia tellus, disguised thus to get your love, hic steterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing, Priami, is my man Tranio, regia, bearing my port, celsa senis, that we might beguile the old Pantaloon ti

Hor. Madam, my instrument's in tune. [Returning,
Bian. Let's hear. O fy, the treble jars.
Luc. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. -

Bian. Now let me see if I can construe it: Hac ibat Simois, know you not, hic est Sigeia tellus, I trust you not, hic steterat Priami, take heed he hear us not, regia, presume not, celfa jenis, de{pair not.

Hor. Madam, 'tis now in tune.
Luc. All but the base.

Hor. The base is right,'tis the base knave that jars.
How fiery and how froward is our pedant!
Now, for my life, that knave doth court my love;
Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet.

Bian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.

Luc. Mistrust it not, -for, súre, Æacides Was Ajax, call’d so from his grandfather.

Bian. I must believe my master; else, I promise you, I should be arguing still upon that doubï; But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you : Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray, That I have been thus pleasant with you

both. Hor. You may go walk, and give me leave a while; My lessons make no music in three parts.

Luc. Are you so formal, Sir? Well, I must wait, And watch withal; for, but I be deceived, Our fine musician groweth amorous. [Aside.

Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument, To learn the order of my fingering, I must begin with rudiments of art; To teach you Gamut in a briefer fort, More pleasant, pithy, and effectual, Than hath been taught by any of my trade; And there it is in writing fairly drawn.

Bian. Why, I am past my Gamut long ago.

Pantaloon, the old cully in Italian farces.

Hor. Yet read the Gamut of Hortenfio.
Bian. reading.] Gamut I am, the ground of all

A re, to plead Hortensio's passion;
B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord,

C faut, that loves with all affection ;
D Polre, one cliff, but two notes have I.
E la ni, Now pity, or I die.

Call you this Gamut ? tut, I like it not ;
Old falliions please me beft; I'm not so nice
To change true rules for odd inventions.

Enter a Servant.
Serv. Mistress, your father prays you leave your

And help to dress your fister's chamber up.
You know to-morrow is the wedding-day.
· Bian. Farewell, sweet masters both : I must be

[Exit. Luc. Faith, Mistress, then I have no cause to stay.

Hor. But I have cause to pry into this pedant.
Metlinks he looks as tho' he was in love ;
Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be fo humble,
To castihy wand'ring eyes on every stale ;
Seize thee, who list; if once I find thee ranging,
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing. [Exit.

Enter Baptifta, Gremio, Tranio, Catharina,

Lucentio, Bianca, and attendants.
Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the ?pointed day
That Cath'rine and Petruchio should be married;
And yet we hear not of our fon-in-law.
What will be faid? what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom, when the priest attends
To speak the ceren onial rites of marriage ?
What says Luceniio to this shame of ours?
Cath. No thame but mine; I must, for!ooth, be

To give my hard crpes'd against my heart,

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Unto a mad-brain Rudesby, full of spleen,
Who woo'd in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
I told you, I, he was a frantic fool,
Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour;
And, to be noted for a merry man,
He'll woo a thousand, ’point the day of marriage,
Make friends, invite, yes, and proclaim the banns;
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
Now must the world point at poor Catharine,
And say, lo ! there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her.

Tra. Patience, good Catharine, and Baptista too:
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
Whatever fortune itays him from his word.
Tho' he be blunt, I know him pasling wile ;
Tho' he be merry, yet withal he's honest.
Cath. Would Catharine had never seen him tho'!

[Exit weeping. Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep; For such an injury would vex a saint, Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.


Enter Biondello. Bion. Master, master; old news, and such news as you never heard of.

Bap. Is it new and old too? how may that be?

Bion. Why, is it not news to hear of Petruchio's coming ?

Bap, Is he come?
Bion. Why, no, Sir.
Bap. What then ?
Bion He is coining.
Bap, When will he be here?
Bion. When he stands where I

and sees

you there. Tra. But, fay, what thine old news?

Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming in a new hat, and an old jerkin, a pair of old breeches thrice turn'd; a pair of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled, another lac'd : an old rusly sword ta'en VOL. III.


out of the town-armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless, with two broken points *; his horse hipp'd with an old mothy ladule, the stirrups of no kindred; besides, pofleft with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine, troubled with the lampasie, infected with the fashions t, full of windgalls, sped with spavins, raied with the yellows, past cure of the fives, stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the bots, d in the back, and thoulder-shotten, near legg'a before, and with a half check'd bit, and a headstall of theep's leather, which being restrain’d, to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst

, and now repair’d with knots: one giro fix times piec'd, and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her name, fairly iet down in studs, and here and there piec'd with packthread.

Bap. Who comes with him ?

Bion. Oh, Sir, his lackey, for all the world caparison'd like the horse, with a linen stock on one leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, garter'd with a red and blue lift, an old hat, and the humour of forty fancies prick'd up in't for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparel, and not like a Christian footboy, or a gentleman's lackey. Tra. 'Tis fome odd humour pricks him to this

fashion ;
Yet sometimes he goes but mean arparelld.

Bap. I am glad he is come, howsoever he comes.
Bion. Why, Sir, he comes not.
Bap. Didst thou not say he comes ?
Bion. Who? that Petruchio came not.
Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came.

Bion. No, Sir; I say his horse comes with him on his back.

* How a sword Mhould have two broken points I cannot tell. There is, I think, a transposition caused by the seeming relation of point to faword. I read, a pair of boots, one buckled, another laced with two broken points; an old Fujiy / word with

a broken hilt, and chapelejs. Johaton. fi.e. The farcy.

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