Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice, Bap. I know not what to say: but give me your hands; God send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match. Gre. Tra, amen, say we; we will be witnesses. Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu; I will to Venice, sunday comes apace:We will have rings, and things, and fine array; And kiss me, Kate, we will be married o'sunday. [Exeunt Petruchio and Katharine, severally. Gre. Was ever match clap'd up so suddenly? Bap. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part, And venture madly on a desperate mart. Gre. But thine doth fry. Skipper, stand back; 'tis age, that nourisheth. 'Tis deeds, must win the prize; and he, of both, That can assure my daughter greatest dower, Shall have Bianca's love. Say, signior Gremio, what can you assure her? Fine linen, Turky cushions boss'd with pearl, Tra. That, only, came well in-Sir, list to me, Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year, of land! My land amounts not to so much in all: That she shall have; besides an argosy, Tra. Gremio, 'tis known, my father hath no less Than three great argosies; besides two galliasses, And twelve tight gallies: these I will assure her, And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next. Gre. Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more; And she can have no more than all I have;If you like me, she shall have me and mine. Tra. Why, then the maid is mine from all the world, By your firm promise; Gremio is out-vied. Bap. I must confess, your offer is the best; I am thus resolv'd:-On sunday next you know, And so I take my leave, and thank you both. [Exit. Gre. Adieu, good neighbour. - Now I fear thee not; Sirrah, young gamester, your father were a fool To give thee all, and, in his waning age, Set foot under thy table: Tut! a toy! An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. (Exit. 1 Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide. Yet I have faced it with a card of ten. 'Tis in my head to do my master good:I see no reason, but suppos'd Lucentio Must get a father, call'd-suppos'd Vincentio; And that's a wonder: fathers, commonly, Do get their children; but, in this case of wooing, A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning. [Exit. ACT III. SCENE I. A ROOM IN BAPTISTA'S HOUSE. Enter Lucentio, Hortensio, and Bianca. Luc. Fidler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir: Hor. But, wrangling pedant, this is Luc. Preposterous ass! that never read so far Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine. Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong, To strive for that which resteth in my choice: I am no breeching scholar in the schools; 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 instrument, play you the whiles; His lecture will be done, ere you have tun'd. Hor. You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune? [To Bianca.-Hortensio retires. E |