АСТ

A C T III. SCENE I.

Continues in Padua.

Enter Lucentio, Hortenfio, and Bianca.

LUCENTIO.

Idler, forbear; you grow too forward, Sir:
Have you fo foon forgot the entertainment
Her fifter Catharine welcom'd you withal?
Hor. 'But, wrangling pedant, know this lady is
The patronefs of heavenly harmony;

Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in mufick we have spent an hour,
Your lecture fhall have leifure for as much.

Luc. Prepofterous afs! that never read fo 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 philofophy,
And while I pause, serve in your harmony.

Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear thefe braves of thine.
Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong,
To ftrive 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 my self;
And to cut off all ftrife, here fit we down,
Take you your instrument, 'stay you a while,
His lecture will be done ere you have tun'd.
Hor. You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune?
[Hortenfio retires.

T 3

Luc.

Luc. That will be never: tune your inftrument.
Bian. Where left we laft?

Luc. Here, Madam: Hic ibat Simois, bic eft Sigeia tellus, Hiç fteterat Priami regia celfa fenis.

Bian. Conftrue them.

Luc. Hic ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lu centio, hic eft, fon unto Vincentio of Pifa, Sigeia tellus, difguifed thus to get your love, bic 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.
Bian. Let's hear. O fie, the treble jars.

Luc. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.

[Returning.

Bian. Now let me fee if I can conftrue it: Hic ibat Simois, I know you not, hic eft Sigeia tellus, I trust you not, bic 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 base knave that jars, How fiery and how froward is our pedant!

Now, for my life, that knave doth court my love;
Pedafcule, I'll watch you better yet.

Bian. In time I may believe; yet I mistrust.
Luc. Miftruft it not, for fure

acides

Was Ajax, call'd fo from his grandfather.

Bian. 1 muft believe my mafter, elfe I promise you,'

I fhould be arguing ftill upon that doubt;

But let it reft., Now, Licio, to you:
Good mafters, 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 mufick in three parts.

Luc. Are you fo formal, Sir? well, I must wait,
And watch withal; for, but I be deceiv'd,
Our fine musician groweth amorous.

[Lucentio retires.

Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument,

Το

To learn the order of my fingering,
I must begin with rudiments of art,
To teach you Gamut in a briefer fort,
More pleafant, pithy, and effectual,
Than hath been taught by any of my trade;
And there it is in writing fairly drawn.

Bian. Why, I am past my Gamut long ago.
Hor. Yet read the Gamut of Hortenfio.

Bian. [Reading] Gamut I am, the ground of all accord, Are, to plead Hortenfio's paffion,

B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord,

Cfaut, that loves thee with` all affection,
D folre, one cliff, but two notes have I,
Elami, 'fhow me pity, or I die.

Call you this Gamut? tut, I like it not;
Old fashions please me beft; I'm not fo nice
To change true rules for 'odd inventions.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Miftrefs, your father prays you leave your books, And help to drefs your fifter's chamber up;

You know to-morrow is the wedding-day.

Bian. Farewel, fweet mafters both; I must be gone.

[Exit. Luc. 'Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. [Exit. Hor. But I have caufe to pry into this pedant; Methinks he looks as tho' he were in love: Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be fo humble, To caft thy wandring eyes on every stale; Seize thee who lift; if once I find thee ranging, Hortenfio will be quit with thee by changing.

SCEN NE II.

[Exit.

Enter Baptifta, Tranio, Catharina, Lucentio, and

Attendants.

Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed day

T 4

That

2 loves with 3 fhew pity,

4

old ... old edit. Theob, emend.

That Cath'rine and Petruchio fhould be married;
And yet we hear not of our fon-in-law.
What will be faid? what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage?
What fays Lucentio to this fhame of ours?

Cath. No fhame but mine; I muft, forfooth, be forc'd To give my hand oppos'd againft my heart,

Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen,

Who woo'd in hafte, and means to wed at leifure.
I told you, I, he was a frantick fool,

Hiding his bitter jefts in blunt behaviour:
And to be noted for a merry man,

He'll woo a thoufand, 'point the day of marriage,
Make friends, invite, yes, and proclaim the banes;
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
Now must the world point at poor Catharine,
And fay, lo! there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her.
Tra. Patience, good Catharine, and Baptifta too;
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
What ever fortune ftays him from his word.
Tho' he be blunt, I know him paffing wife;
Tho' he be merry, yet withal he's honeft.

Cath. Would Catharine had never feen him tho' !
[Exit weeping.
Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep;
For fuch an injury would vex a faint,

Much more a fhrew of thy impatient humour.

Bion. Mafter, mafter; old news, and fuch news as you never heard of.

Bap. Is it new and old too? how may that be? Bion. Why, is it not news to hear of Petruchio's coming?

Bap.

Bion. He is coming.

Bap. When will he be here?

Bion. When he ftands where I am, and fees you there.
Tra. But fay, what to thine old news?

Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming in a new hat and an old jerkin; a pair of old breeches thrice turn'd; a pair of boots that have been candle-cafes, one buckled, another lac'd; an old rufty fword ta'en out of the townarmory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless, with two broken points; his horfe hipp'd, with an old mothy faddle, the stirrups of no kindred; befides, poffeft with the glanders, and like to mourn in the chine, troubled with the lampaffe, infected with the farcin, full of windgalls, fped with fpavins, raied with the yellows, paft cure of the 7 vives, ftark spoiled with the ftaggers, begnawn with the bots,way'd in the back, and fhoulder-fhotten, near-legg'd before, and with a halfcheek'd bit, and a headftall of theep's leather, which being restrain❜d to keep him from ftumbling hath been often burst, and now repair'd with knots; one girt fix times piec'd, and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her name, fairly fet down in ftuds, and here and there piec'd with packthread.

Bap. Who comes with him?

Bion. Oh Sir, his lackey, for all the world caparie fon'd like the horse, with a linnen ftock on one leg, and a kersey boot-hofe on the other, garter'd with a red and blue lift, an old hat, and the humour of forty fancies prickt up in't for a feather: a monfter, a very mone ster in apparel, and not like a christian foot-boy, or gen tleman's lackey.

Tra. 'Tis fome odd humour pricks him to this fashion; Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell'd. Bap. I am glad he's come, howfoever he comes.

Bion.