If the and I be pleas'd, what's that to you?
"Tis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone,
That the shall still be curft in company.
I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe
How much the loves me; oh, the kindest Kate! ming
She hung about my neck, and kiss on kifs
She vy'd fo fatt, protefting oath on oath,

That in a twink The won me to her love.
Oh, you are novices; 'tis a world to see,
How tame (when men and women are alone)
A meacock wretch can make the curftest shrew.
Give me thy hand, Kate, I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding day;
Father, provide the feast, and bid the guests;
I will be sure, my Catharine ihall be fine.

Bap. I know not what to say, but give your hands :
God lend 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 a Sunday.

[Exe. Petruchio, and Catharine jeverall). Gre. Was ever match clapt up so suddenly?

Bap. Faith, gentlemen, I play a merchaat's part; And venture madly on a desperate mart.

Tra. "Twas a commodity lay fretting by you; 'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the feas.

Bap. The gain I seek is quiet in the match.

Gre. No doubt, but he hath got a quiet catch :
But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter;
Now is the day we long have looked for:
I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.

Tra.. And I am one, that love Bianca more
Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess

Gre. Youngling! thou canst not love so deur as I.
Tra. Grey-beard! thy love doth freeze.

Gre. But thine doth fry.
Skipper, stand back; 'tis age, that ncurisheth.

Tra. But youth, in ladies eyes that flourishech,
Vol. II.

R

Bapt. stalls;

Bap. Content you,' entlemen, Iwillcompound this ftrife;
"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?

Gre. First, as you know, my house within the city
Is richly furnished with plate and gold,
Basons and ewers to lave her dainty hands:
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;
In ivory coffers I have stufft my crowns;
In cypress chests my arras, counterpanes,
Costly apparel, tents and canopies,
Fine linnen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl ;
Valance of Venice gold in needle-work;
Pewter and brais, and all things that belong
To house, or house-keeping: Then, at my farm,
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Sixscore fat oxen standing in my
And all things answerable to this portion.
Myself am itruck in years, I must confess,
And if I die-to-morrow, this is hers;
If, whilft I live, she will be only mine.

Tra. That only came well in. --Sir, lift to me;
I am my father's heir, and only fon;
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
I'll leave her houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
Old Signior Gremio has in Padua;
Besides two thousand ducats by the year
Of fruitful land; all which shall be her jointure.
What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio?
Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year of land ! (14)

My (14) Gre. 'Two thousand ducats by the year of land !

My land amounts but to so much in all :
That she shall have, besides an Argofie
That now is lying in Marseilles's road,
What, have I choakt you with an Argofie?

Tra. Gremio, 'tis known, my father hath no less
Than three great Argofres, besides two galliasses,
And twelve tight gallies; these I will affure her,
And twice as much, what e'er thou offer'ft 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 ; And let your father make her the assurance, She is your own, else you must pardon me: If

you should die before him, where's her dower? Tra. That's but a cavil; he is old, I young: Gre. And may not young men die, as well as old } .

Bap. Well, gentlemen, then I am thus resoly’d: On Sunday next, you know, My daughter Catharine is to be married: Now on the Sunday following Mall Bianca Be bride to you, if you make this assurance; If not, to Signior Gremio : And so I take my leave, and thank you both. [Exit. Gre. Adieu, good neighbour.- Now I fear thee not: Gamefter, your

father were a fool To give thee all; and in his waining age Set foot under thy table: tut! a toy ! An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. [Exit. Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide !

) negative monosyllable in the second line, which Mr. Warburton prescrib’d, salves the absurdity, and sets the passage right. Gremio and Tranio are vying in their offers to carry Bianca : The latter boldly pre poses to settle land to the amount of 2000 ducats per Annum. Ay, says the other; my whole estate in land amounts but to that value: Yet the shall have a rich veffel to bat; I'll endow her with the W bole; and confign

ufe, over and above. Thus all is intelligible; and he goes on to outbid his rival.

R.2

Yet

Sirrah, young

Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten :
"Tis in my head to do my master good:
I see no reason, but suppos'd Lucentio
May 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 fire, if I fail not of my cunning: (Exit.

- The presenters, above, speak here. Sly. Sim, when will the fool come again? Sim. Anon, my Lord.

Sly. Give's fome more drink here where's the tapster? bere, Sim, cat fome of these things. Sim. So I do, my

Lord.
Sly. Here, Sim, I drink to thee.

ACT

III.

SCENE, Baptifta's House.

Enter Lucentio, Hortenfio, and Bianca.

LUCENTIO.

Have you so foon forgot the entertainment Her fifter Catharine welcom'd

you

withal ? Hor. [Sheis a shrew, but, ] Wrangling pedant, thisis(15) The patroness of heavenly harmony; (15)

-Wrangling Pedant, ibis The patronefs of beavenly barmony.] There can be no reason, why Hortenfio should begin with an hemiftich : but much less, why Mr Pope should have yet curtail'd this hemiftich, against the authority of all the old copies, which read;

But, wrangling Pedant, ibis is The words which I have added to fill the verse, being purely by CODjecture, and supply'd by the sense that seems requir'd, without any traces of a corrupted reading left, to authorize or found them upon ; I have for that reason inclosed them within crotchets, to be imbraced es rejected, at every reader's pleasure,

Then

܀

Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in musick we have spent an hour,
Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.

Luc. Preposterous ass! that never read so far
To know the cause why mufick was ordain'd:
Was it not to refresh the mind of man
After his studies, or his usual pain?
Then give me leave to read philosophy,
And, while I pause, serve in your harmony.

Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.

Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong,
To strive for that which refteth in my choice:
I am no breeching scholar in the schools;
I'll not be tied to hours, nor pointed times,
But learn my leffons as I please myself;
And, to cut off all strife, here fit we down,
'Take you your instrument, play you the while ;
His lecture will be done, ere you have tun'd.
Hor. You'll leave his lecture, when I am in tune ?

[Hortenfio retires.
Luc. That will be never: Tune your instrument.
Bian. Where left we last?

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 Pisa, Sigeia tellus,
disguised thus to get your love, hic fteterat, and that
Lucentio that comes a wooing, Priami, is my man Tra-
nio, regia, bearing my port, celfa fenis, that we might
beguile the old pantalooon.

Hor. Madam, my instrument's in tune. [Returning.
Bian. Let's hear. O fy, the treble jars.
Luc. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.

Bian. Now let me see, if I can construe it: Har ibat Simois, I know you not, bic eft Sigeia tellus, I trust you not, hic fteterat Priami, take heed he hear us not, regia, presume not, celfa Jenis, despair not.

Hor. Madain, 'tis now in tune.
Luc. All but the base.

Hor.

R3