Pet. Father, 'tis thus: Yourself and all the world, For the's not froward, but modeft as the dove: Gre. Hark: Petruchio! fhe fays fhe'll fee thee hang'd firft. Tra. Is this your fpeeding? nay, then, good night, our part! Pet. Be patient, Sirs, I chufe her for myself; How much he loves me; oh, the kindest Kate! Bap. I know not what to fay, but give your hands; God fend you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match. Gre. Tra. Amen, fay we; we will be witneffcs. I will to Venice, Sunday comes apace, SCENE VI. Gre. Was ever match clapt up fo fuddenly? And venture madly on a desperate mart. Tra. 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you; 'Twill bring you gain, or perifh on the feas. Bap. The gain I feek is quiet in the match. Tra. And I am one, that love Bianca more Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guefs. Gre. Youngling! thou can'ft not love fo dear as I. Tra. Grey-beard! thy love doth freeze. Gre. But thine doth fry. Skipper, ftand back; 'tis age that nourisheth. 'Tis deeds must win the prize; and he, of both, Say, Signior Gremio, what can you affure her? Gre. First, as you know, my houfe within the city Is richly furnished with plate and gold, Bafons and ewers to lave her dainty hands: In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns; Fine linen, Turky cushions bofs'd with pearl; Tra. That only came well in. Sir, lift to me; I am my father's heir, and only fon; Sf Within Within rich Pifa walls, as any one Old Signior Gremio has in Padua; Befides two thousand ducats by the year Of fruitful land; all which fhall be her jointure. Tra. Gremio, 'tis known, my father hath no lefs Bap. I must confefs, your offer is the best; My daughter Catharine is to be married. And fo I take my leave, and thank you both. [Exit. Gre. Adieu, good neighbour.Now I fear thee not. Sirrah, young gamefter, your father were a fool Set foot under thy table: tut! a toy! [Exit. Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide! Yet I have face'd it with a card of ten : 'Tis in my head to do my mafter good, I fee no reafon, but fuppos'd Lucentio May May get a father, call'd, fuppos'd Vincentio ; [The prefenters, above, fpeak here. Sly. Sim, when will the fool come again? [Exit. Sly. Give's fome more drink here-Where's the tapfter? Here, Sim, eat fome of thefe things. Sim. So I do, my Lord. Sly. Here, Sim, I drink to thee. АСТ. III. SCENE I Baptifta's houfe. Enter Lucentio, Hortenfio, and Bianca. Luc. FIdler, forbear; you grow too forward, Sir Have you fo foon forgot the entertainment, Her fifter Catharine welcom'd you withal? Hor. Wrangling pedant, this is The patronefs of heavenly harmony; Then give me leave to have prerogative; And when in mufic we have spent an hour, Your lecture fhall have leifure for as much. Luc. Prepofterous afs! that never read fo far To know the caufe why mufic was ordain'd: Was it not to refresh the mind of man After his ftudies, or his usual pain? Then give me leave to read philosophy, And, while I paufe, ferve in your harmony. Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine. Bian. Why, Gentlemen, you do me double wrong, To ftrive for that which refteth in my choice. I am no breeching fcholar in the schools; I'll not be tied to hours, nor 'pointed times, But learn my leífons as I please myself; And to cut off all ftrife, here fit we down, Take you your inftrument, play you the while; His lecture will be done ere you have tun'd. Sf 2 Hor. Hor. You'll leave his lecture, when I am in tune? [Hortenfio retires. Luc. That will be never: tune your inftrument. Bian. Where left we laft? Luc. Here, Madam: Hac ibat Simois; hic eft Sigeia tellus ; Hic fteterat Priami regia celfa fenis. Bian. Conftrue them. Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before; Simois, I am Lucentio; hic eft, fon unto Vincentio of Pifa; Sigeia tellus, difguifed thus to get your love; hic fteterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing; Priami, is my man Tranio; regia, bearing my port; celfa fenis, that we might beguile the old pantaloon. Hor. Madam, my inftrument's in tune. [Returning. Bian. Now let me fee if I can conftrue it. Hac ibat Simois, I know you not; hic eft Sigeia tellus, I trust you not; hic fteterat Priami, take heed he hear us not; regia, prefume not; celfa fenis, defpair not. Hor. Madam, 'tis now in tune. Luc. All but the base. Hor. The bafe is right; 'tis the bafe knave that jars. How fiery and how froward is our pedant! Now, for my life, that knave doth court my love; Bian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. Bian. I muft believe my mafter, else I promise you, I fhould be arguing ftill upon that doubt; But let it reft. 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 leffons make no mufic in three parts. Luc. Are you fo formal, Sir? well, I muft wait, And watch withal; for but I be deceiv'd, Our fine musician groweth amorous. He would have faid didafcale; but thinking this too honourable, he coins the word pedefcale inimitation of it, from pedant. Hor. |