Luc. Bafta; content thee; for I have it full. We have not yet been feen in any houfe, Nor can we be diftinguifh'd by our faces, For man or mafter: then it follows thus. Thou shalt be mafter, Tranio, in my ftead; Keep house, and port, and fervants, as I-fhould. I will fome other be, fome Florentine, Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pifa. "Tis hatch'd, and fhall be fo: Tranio, at once Uncafe thee: take my colour'd hat and cloak. When Biondello comes, he waits on thee; But I will charm him firft to keep his tongue. Tra. So had you need. [They exchange habits. In brief, good Sir, fith it your pleasure is, And I am tied to be obedient, (For fo your Father charg'd me at our parting; Be ferviceable to my Son, quoth he,) Altho', I think, 'twas in another sense; I am content to be Lucentio, Because fo well I love Lucentio. Luc. Tranio, be fo; because Lucentio loves; Enter Biondello. Here comes the rogue. Sirrah, where have you been? Bion. Where have I been? nay, how now, where are you? mafter, has my fellow Tranio ftoll'n your cloaths, or you ftoll'n his, or both? pray, what's the news? Luc. Sirrah, come hither: 'tis no time to jest; Bion. Ay, Sir, ne'er a whit. Luc. And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth; Tranio is chang'd into Lucentio. Bion. The better for him: 'Would, I were fo too. Tra. So would I, 'faith, boy, to have the next with after; that Lucentio, indeed, had Baptifta's youngest Daughter. But, firrah, not for my fake, but your mafter's, I advise you, ufe your manners discreetly in all kind of companies: when I am alone, why, then I am Tranio; but in all places elfe, your mafter Lucentio. Luc. Tranio, let's go: one thing more refts, that thy felf execute, to make one among these wooers; if thou ask me why, fufficeth, my reafons are both good and weighty. [Exeunt. SCENE, before Hortenfio's Houfe, in Padua. Enter Petruchio, and Grumio. Pet. Erona, for a while I take my leave, VE To fee my friends in Padua; but of all My best beloved and approved friend, Hortenfio; and, I trow, this is the house; Gru. Knock, Sir? whom fhould I knock? is there any man, has rebus'd your Worship? Pet. Villain, I fay, knock me here foundly. That I fhould knock you here, Sir? Pet. Villain, I fay, knock me at this gate, And rap me well; or I'll knock your knave's pate. Gru. My mafter is grown quarrelfome: I fhould knock you first, And then I know after, who comes by the worst. Pet. Will it not be? Faith, firrah, an you'll not knock, I'll ring it, I'll try how you can Sol, Fa, and fing it.. [He wrings him by the ears. Gru. Help, mafters, help; my mafter is mad. Pet. Now knock, when I bid you: Sirtah! Villain! Q3 Enter Enter Hortenfio. Hor. How now, what's the matter? my old friend Grumio, and my good friend Petruchio! how do you all at Verona? Pet. Signior Hortenfio, come you to part the fray ? Con tutto il Core ben trovato, may I fay. Hor. Alla noftra Casa ben venuto, molte honorato Signor mio Petruchio. Rife, Grumio, rife; we will compound this quarrel. Gru. Nay, 'tis no matter, what he leges in Latine. If this be not a lawful caufe for me to leave his fervice, look you, Sir: he bid me knock him, and rap him foundly, Sir. Well, was it fit for a fervant to use his mafter fo, being, perhaps, for aught I fee, two and thirty, a pip out? Whom, would to God, I had well knock'd at first, Pet. A fenfelefs villain! 1 Good Hortenfio, I bid the rafcal knock upon your gate, And could not get him for my heart to do it. Gru. Knock at the gate? O heav'ns! fpake you not thefe words plain? firrah, knock me here, rap me here, knock me well, and knock me foundly: and come you now with knocking at the gate? Pet. Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you. Hor. Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio's pledge: Why, this is a heavy chance 'twixt him and you, Your ancient, trufty, pleasant fervant Grumio; And tell me now, fweet Friend, what happy Gale Blows you to Padua here, from old Verona? Pet. Such wind as fcatters young men through the world, To feek their fortunes farther than at home; And I have thruft my self into this maze, And And fo am come abroad to see the world. Hor. Petruchio, fhall I then come roundly to thee, Pet. Signior Hortenfio, 'twixt fuch friends as us As old as Sibyl, and as curft and shrewd She moves me not; or not removes, at least, I come to wive it wealthily in Padua: Gru. Nay, look you, Sir, he tells you flatly what his mind is why, give him gold enough, and marry him to a puppet, or an aglet-baby, or an old Trot with ne'er a tooth in her head, tho' fhe have as many diseases as two and fifty horfes; why, nothing comes amifs, fo mony comes withal. Hor. Petruchio, fince we are ftept thus far in, I will continue That I broach'd in jest. I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife With wealth enough, and young and beauteous; Is, that she is intolerably curft; And fhrewd, and froward, fo beyond all measure, I would not wed her for a Mine of gold. Pet. Hortenfio, peace; thou know'ft not gold's ef- Tell me her Father's name, and 'tis enough: As thunder, when the clouds in Autumn crack. Hor. Her Father is Baptifta Minola, An affable and courteous Gentleman; Her name is Catharina Minola, Renown'd in Padua for her fcolding tongue. Pet. I know her Father, tho' I-know not her Gru. I pray you, Sir, let him go while the humour lafts. O' my word, an fhe knew him as well as I do, fhe would think fcolding would do little good upon him. She may, perhaps, call him half a score knaves, or fo: why, that's nothing; an' he begin once, he'll rail in his rope tricks. I'll tell you what, Sir, an' fhe ftand him but a little, he will throw a figure in her face, and fo disfigure her with it, that fhe fhall have no more eyes to fee withal than a cat: you know him not, Sir. Hor. Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee, For in Baptifa's houfe my Treasure is: He hath the jewel of my life in hold, His youngest Daughter, beautiful Bianca; (7) And her with-holds he from me, and others more (For thofe defects I have before rehears'd,) A title for a maid of all titles the worst! · (7) And her withholds he from me. Other more Suitors to her, and Rivals in my Love: &c.] The Editors, in this Carelessnefs of their Pointing, have made stark Nonsense of this Paffage. The Regulation, which I have given to the Text, was dictated to me by the ingenious Dr. Thirlby. Hor. |