Hor. Grumio, mum! God fave you, Signior Grumio. Gre. And you are well met, Signior Hortenfio. Trow you, whither I am going? to Baptifta Minola; I promis'd to enquire carefully about a fchool-mafler for the fair Bianca; and by good fortune I have lighted well on this young man, for Learning and Behaviour fit for her turn, well 'read in Poetry, and other books; good ones, I warrant ye. Hor. 'Tis well, and I have met a gentleman, Hath promis'd me to help me to another, A fine musician to instruct our mistress; So fhall I no whit be behind in duty To fair Bianca, fo belov'd of me. Gre. Belov'd of me, and that my deeds fhall prove. Hor. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love. Hortenfio, have you told him all her faults? Gre. No, fayeft me fo, friend? what Countryman ? Gre. Oh, Sir, fuch a life with fuch a wife were ftrange; But if you have a ftomach, to't, o'God's name; You must have me affifting you in all. But will you woo this wild cat? Pet. Will I live? Gru. Will he woo her? ay, or I'll hang her. Pet. Why came I hither, but to that intent? Think you, a little din can daunt my ears? Have Have I not in my time heard lions roar? Loud lartims, neighing fteeds, and trumpets clangue? Tufh, tufh, fear boys with bugs. This Gentleman is happily arriv'd, My mind prefumes, for his own good, and ours. Gre. And fo we will, provided that he win her. SCENE VII. To them Tranio bravely apparell'd; and Biondello. Tra. Gentlemen, God fave you. If I may be bold, tell me, I beseech you, which is the readiest way to the houfe of Signior Baptifta Minola? Bion. He, that has the two fair daughters? is't he you mean? Tra. Even he, Biondello. Gre. Hark you, Sir, you mean not her, to 3 That gives not half fo great a blow to HEAR.] This aukward phrafe could never come from Shakespeare. He wrote, without queftion, •So great a blow to TH'EAR. WARBURTON. Tra. Tra. I love no chiders, Sir: Biondello, let's away, Luc. Well begun, Tranio. Hor. Sir, a word ere you go: Are you a fuitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no? Tra. An if I be, Sir, is it any offence? Gre. No; if without more words you will get you hence. Tra. Why, Sir, I pray, are not the streets as free For me, as for you? Gre But fo is not fhe. Tra. For what reafon, I befeech you ? To whom my Father is not all unknown; Gre. What, this Gentleman will out talk us all! Pet. Sir, Sir, the firft's for me; let her go by. Gre. Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules; And let it be more than Alcides' twelve. Pet. Sir, understand you this of me, infooth: The youngest Daughter, whom you hearken for, Her father keeps from all accefs of fuitors, 1 And will not promife her to any man, Tra. If it be fo, Sir, that you are the man Hor. Sir, you fay well, and well you do conceive; Tra. Sir, I fhall not be flack; in fign whereof, Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. Gru. Bion, O excellent motion! fellows, let's be gone. Hor. The motion's good indeed, and be it so, [Exeunt. [The Prefenters, above, speak here. 1 Man. My Lord, you nod; you do not mind the Play. Sly. Yea, by St. Ann, do I. A good matter, furely! comes there any more of it? Lady. My Lord, 'tis but begun. Sly. 'Tis a very excellent piece of work, Madam Lady. 'Would, 'twere done! 4 Pleafe je, we may contrive this afternoon,] Mr. Thepbald afks what they were to contrive? and then fays, a foolish corruption poffeffes the place, and fo alters it to convive; in which he is followed, as he pretty conftantly is, when wrong, by the Oxford Editor. But the common reading is right, and the Critic was only ignorant of the meaning of it. Contrive does not fignify here to project, but to Spend and wear out. As in this paffage of Spenser, Three ages fuch as mortal men CONTRIVE, Fairy Queen, B. xi. ch. 9. WARBURTON. The word is ufed in the fame fenfe of Spending or wearing out, in the Palace of Pleasure. ACT ACT II. SCENE I. G° Baptifta's House in Padua. Enter Catharina and Bianca. BIANCA. OOD Sifter, wrong me not, nor wrong your- To make a bond-maid and a flave of me; Cath. Of all thy Suitors here, I charge thee, tell Cath. Minion, thou lieft; is't not Hortenfio? Bian. Is it for him you do fo envy me? Nay, then you jeft; and now, I well perceive, |