Gre. O this learning! what a thing it is! Hor. Grumio, mum! God save you, Signior Gremio! Gre. And you're well met, Signior. Hortensio. Trow you, Whither I am going? - To Baptista Minola, I promis'd to enquire carefully About a schoolmaster for air Biança; On this young man; for learning, and behaviour, And other books, good ones, I warrant you. A fine musician to instruct our mistress; r To fair Bianca, so belov'd of me. Hor. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our loves Listen to me, and if you speak me fair, I'll tell you news indifferent good for either. Hortensio, have you told him all her faults? Gre. No, sag'st.me,so, friend? What countryman? My father dead, my fortune lives for me; 's And I do hope good days, and long, to see. Gre. O, Sir, such a life, with such a wife, were strange: But, if you have a stomach, to't o'God's name; But will you woo, this wild cat? Pet. Will I live? Gru. Will he woo her? ay, or I'll hang her. Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang? As will a chesnut in a farmer's fire? Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs. This gentleman is happily arriv'd, [Aside. My mind presumes, for his own good, and yours. Hor. I promis'd, we would be contributors, And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe'er. Gre. And so we will; provided, that he win her. Gru. I would, I were as sure of a good dinner. [Aside. Enter TRANIO, bravely apparelld; and BIONDELLO. Tra. Gentlemen, God save you! If I may be bold, Tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way To the house of Signior Baptista Minola? Trà. Even he. Biondello!" Gre. Hark you, Sir; You mean not her to Tra. Perhaps, him and her, Sir; What have you Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yea, or no? Tra. An if I be; Sir, is it any offence?, Gre. No; if, without more words, you will get you hence Tra. Why, Sir, I pray, are not the streets as free For me, as for you? Gre. But so is not she. Tra. For what reason, I beseech you? Gre. For this reason, if you'll know, That she's the choice of Signior Gremio. Hor. That she's the chosen of Signior Hortensie. Tra. Softly, my Masters! if you be gentlemen, Do me this right, hear me with patience. - Baptista is a noble gentleman, To whom my father is not all unknown; a jade. Pet. Hortensio, to what end are all these words? Hor. Sir, let me be so bold as to ask you, Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter? Tra. No, Sir; but hear I do, that he hath two; The one as famous for a scolding tongue, As is the other for beauteous modesty. Pet. Sir, Sir, the first's for me; let her go by. Pet. Sir, understand you this of me, insooth; Tra. If it be so, Sir, that you are the man - For our access, whose hap shall be to have her, Will not so graceless be, to be ingrate. Hor. Sir, you say well, and well you do conceive; And since you do profess to be a suitor, You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman, To whom we all rest generally, beholden. Tra. Sir, I shall not be slack: in sign whereof, Please ye we may contrive this afternoon, And quaff carouses to our mistress' health; And do as adversaries do in law, Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. Gru. Bion. O excellent motion! Fellows, let's begone. Hor. The motion's good indeed, and be it so; Petruchio, I shall be your ben venuto, [Exeunt. The same. A Room in Baptista's House. Enter KATHARINA and BIANCA, Bian. Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself, To make a bondmaid and a slave of me; Kath. Of all thy suitors, here I charge thee, tell Whom thou lov'st best: see thou dissemble not, Bian: Believe me, sister, of all the men aliye, I never yet beheld that special face Which I could fancy more than any other. Kath. Minion, thou liest; Is't not Hortensio? Bian. If you' affect him, sister, here I swear, I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have him. Kath. O then, belike, you fancy riches more; You will have Gremio to keep you fair. Bian. Is it for him you do envy me so? Nay, then you jest; and now I well perceive, You have but jested with me all this while : I pr'ythee, sister Kate, untie my hands. Kath. If that be jest, then all the rest was so. [Strikes her. Enter BAPTISTA. Bap. Why, how now, Dame! whence grows this insolence? Bianca, stand aside; poor girl! she weeps: Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her. |