witty genius growing upon me, and I begin, I know not how, to be in love with this foolish sin of poetry.

Lionel. Are you, sir? there's great hopes of you.

Petrucio. And the reason is, because they say, 'tis both the cause and effect of a good wit, to which I can sufficiently pretend: for nature has not play'd the step-dame with me.

Lionel. In good time, sir.

Petrucio. And now you talk of time, what time of day is it by your watch?

Lionel. I have none, sir.

Petrucio, How, ne'er a watch? oh monstrous! how do you consume your hours ? Ne'er a watch ! 'tis the greatest solecism in society that e'er I heard of: ne'er a watch!

Lionel. How deeply you conceive of it!

Petrucio. You have not a gentleman, that's a true gentleman, without one; 'tis the main appendix to a plush lining : besides, it helps much to discourse; for, while others confer notes together, we confer our watches, and spend good part of the day with talking of it.

Lionel. Well, sir, because I'll be no longer destitute of such a necessary implement, I have a suit to you.

Petrucio. A suit to me? Let it alone till I am a great man, and then I shall answer you with the greater promise, and less performance.

Lionel. I hope, sir, you have that confidence, I will ask nothing to your prejudice, but what shall some way recompense the deed.

Petrucio. What is't? Be brief, I am in that point a courtier.

Lionel. Usurp then on the proffer'd means,
Shew yourself forward in an action
May speak you noble, and make me your friend.
Petrucio. A friend! what's that? I know no such

thing.
Lionel. A faithful, not a ceremonious friend;
But one that will stick by you on occasions,
And vindicate your credit, were it sunk

Below all scorn, and interpose his life
Betwixt you and all dangers : such a friend,
That when he sees you carried by your passions
Headlong into destruction, will so follow you,
That he will guide you from't, and with good counsel
Redeem

you

from ill courses: and not flattering Your idle humour to a vain expence, Cares not to see you perish, so he may Sustain himself a while, and raise a fortune, Though mean, out of your ruins, and then laugh at you.

Petrucio. Why, be there any such friends as these ?

Lionel. A world :
They walk like spirits, not to be discern'd;
Subtile and soft like air, have oily balm
Swimming o'er their words and actions ;
But below it a flood of gall.

Petrucio. Well, to the purpose, speak to the purpose.

Lionel. If I stand link'd unto you, The Gordian knot was less dissoluble, A rock less firm, or centre moveable.

Petrucio. Speak your demand.

Lionel. Do it, and do it freely then; lend me a hundred ducats.

Petrucio. How is that? lend you a hundred ducats! Not a - I'll never have a friend while I breathe first: no, I'll stand upon my guard; I give all the world leave to whet their wits against me, work like moles to undermine me, yet I'll spurn all their deceits like a hillock. I tell thee, I'll not buy the small repentance of a friend or whore, at the rate of a livre.

Lionel. What's this? I dare not
Trust my own ears, silence choke up my anger.
A friend, and whore! are they two parallels,
Or to be nam'd together? May he never
Have better friend, that knows no better how
To value them: Well, I was ever jealous
Of his baseness, and now my fears are ended.
Pox oʻthese travels! they do but corrupt
A good nature, and his was bad enough before.

Enter Angelia. Petrucio. What pretty sparkle of humanity have we here? Whose attendant are you, my little knave?

Angelia. I wait, sir, on master Lionel.

Lionel. 'Tis well you are come. What says the gentleman ?

Angelia. I deliver'd your letter to him. He is very sorry he can furnish you no better; he has sent you twenty crowns, he says, towards the large debt" he owes you.

Petrucio. A fine child ! and delivers his tale with good method. Where, in the name of Ganymede, had'st thou this epitome of a servitor?

Lionel. You'd little think of what consequence and pregnancy this imp is: you may hereafter have both cause to know, and love him.

-What gentlemen are these?

Enter GASPARO and LORENZO. Petrucio. One is

my

father. Lorenzo. I hear, your son, sir, is return'd from

travel, Grown up a fine and stately gentleman, Outstrips his compeers in each liberal science.

Gasparo. I thank my stars, he has improv'd his time
To the best use, can render an account
Of all his journey; how he has arriv’d,
Through strange discoveries and compendious ways,
To a most perfect knowledge of himself;
Can give a model of each prince's court,
And is become their fear. He has a mind
Equally pois'd, and virtue-without sadness;
Hunts not for fame, through an ill path of life;
But is indeed, for all parts, so accomplish’d,
As I could wish or frame bim.

Lorenzo. These are joys,
In their relation to you, so transcendent,
As than yourself I know no man more happy.
May I not see your son?

Gasparo. See where he stands,

old man,

Accompanied with young Lionel, the nephew
To Veterano the great antiquary.

Lionel.* I'll be bold, by your favour, to endear
Myself in his acquaintance. Noble Petrucio,
Darling of Venus, minion of the Graces,
Let me adopt me beir unto your love :
That is, yours by descent, and which your father,
A grave wise man, and a Magnifico,
Has not disdain'd.

Petrucio. I am much bound to you for it.
Lorenzo. Is that all ?

Petrucio. See the abundant ignorance of this age! he cites my father for a precedent. Alas, he is a good

and no more; there he stands, he has not been abroad, nor known the world ; therefore, I hope, will not be so foolishly peremptory, to compare with me for judgment, that have travell’d, seen fashions, and been a man of intelligence.

Lorenzo. Signior, your ear; pray let's counsel you.

Petrucio. Counsel me! the like trespass again; sure the old man doats ! Who counsell’d me abroad, when I had none but mine own natural wisdom for my protection? Yet, I dare say, I met with more perils, more variety of allurements, more Circes, more Calypso's, and the like, than e'er were feign'd upon Ulysses. Lorenzo. It shew'd great wisdom, that you could

avoid them.
Give o'er, and tempt your destiny no further;
'Tis time now to retire unto yourself:
Settle your mind upon some worthy beauty;
A wife will tame ail wild affections.
I have a daughter, who, for youth and beauty,
Might be desir'd, were she ignobly born;
And for her dowry, that shall no way part you.
If you accept her, here, before your friends,
I will betroth her to you.

Petrucio. I thank you, sir, you'd have me marry your daughter; is it so?

* This speech seems more properly to belong to Lorenzo, to whom Gasparo bas just pointed out his son standing with Lionel. C. Lorenzo. With your good liking, not otherwise.

Petrucio. You nourish too great an ambition. What do you see in me, to make such a motion ? No, be wise and keep her; were I married to her, I should not like her above a month at most.

Lorenzo. How! not above a month?

Petrucio. I'll tell you, sir, I have made an experience that way on my nature: when I have hir'd a creature for my pleasure, as 'tis the fashion in many places, for the like time that I told you of, I have been so tired with her before 'twas out, as no horse like me; I could not spur my affection to go a jot further.

Gasparo. Well said, boy! thou art e'en mine own son; when I was young, 'twas just my humour.

Lionel. You give yourself a plausible commends.

Petrucio. I can make a hift to love; but having enjoy’d, fruition kills my appetite: no, I must have several objects of beauty, to keep my thoughts always in action, or I am nobody.

Gasparo. Still mine own flesh and blood !

Petrucio. Therefore I have chose honour for my mistress, upon whose wings I will mount up to the heavens; where I will fix myself a constellation, for all this under-world of mortals to wonder at me.

Gasparo. Nay, he is a mad wag, I assure you, and knows how to put a price upon his desert.

Petrucio. I can no longer stay to dilate on these vanities; therefore, gallants, I leave you. Erit.

Lorenzo. What, is he gone? Is your son gone?

Gasparo. So it seems. Well, gallants, where shall I see you anon?

Lorenzo. You shall not part with us.

Gasparo. You shall pardon me; I must wait upon my son.

[Erit. Lorenzo. Do you hear, signior? A pretty prefer

ment! Lionel. Oh, sir, the lustre of good clothes, or breed

ing, Bestow'd upon a son, will make a rustic, Or a mechanic father, to commit

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