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Tra. O defpightful love, unconftant womankind! I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful.

Hor. Miftake no more, I am not Licio,
Nor a musician, as I feem to be;
But one that fcorn to live in this difguife,
For fuch a One as leaves a gentleman,
And makes a God of fuch a cullion;
Know, Sir, that I am call'd Hortenfio.

Tra. Signior Hortenfio, I have often heard
Of your entire affection to Bianca ;
And fince mine eyes are witness of her lightness,
I will with you, if you be fo contented,
Forfwear Bianca and her love for ever.

Hor. See, how they kifs and court!

Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow,
Never to woo her more; but do forfwear her,
As one unworthy all the former favours,
That I have fondly flatter'd her withal.

Tra. And here I take the like unfeigned oath,
Never to marry her, tho' fhe intreat.
Fie on her! fee, how beastly fhe doth court him.
Hor. Would all the world, but he, had quite forfworn


For me, that I may furely keep mine oath,
I will be married to a wealthy widow,
Ere three days pafs, which has as long lov'd me,
As I have lov'd this proud difdainful haggard.
And fo farewel, Signior Lucentio.

Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks,
Shall win my love and fo I take my leave,
In refolution as I fwore before.


[Exit. Hor.

Tra. Mistress Bianca, blefs you with fuch grace,
As longeth to a lover's bleffed cafe:
Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle Love,
And have forfworn you with Hortenfio.

[Lucentio and Bianca come forward.

Bian. Tranio, you jeft: but have you both forfworn me?

Tra. Mistress, we have.


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Lut. Then we are rid of Licio.

Tra. I'faith, he'll have a lufty widow now,
That fhall be woo'd and wedded in a day.
Bian. God give him joy!

Tra. Ay, and he'll tame her.
Bian. He fays fo, Tranio.

Tra. 'Faith, he's gone unto the taming fchool,
Bian. The taming school? what, is there fuch a


Tra. Ay, miftrefs, and Petruchio is the mafter That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long, To tame a Shrew, and charm her chattering tongue. Enter Biondello, running.

Bion. Oh master, master, I have watch'd fo long,
That I'm dog-weary; but at last I spied (20)
An ancient Engle, going down the hill,
Will ferve the turn.


Tra. What is he, Biondello?

Bion. Mafter, a mercantant, or elle a pedant ;


but at last 1 spied

An ancient Angel going down the Hill,
Will ferve the turn.]

Tho' all the printed Copies agree in this Reading, I am confident, that
hakespeare intended no Profanation here; nor indeed any Compli
ment to this old Man who was to be impos'd upon, and made a Pro-
perty of. The Word I have restor'd, certainly retrieves the Author's
Meaning and means, either in its firft Signification, a Burdafh; (for
the Word is of Spanish Extraction, Ingle, which is equivalent to inguen
of the Latines;) or, in its metaphorical Senfe, a Gull, a Cully, one
fit to be made a Tool of. And in both Senfes it is frequently us'd by
B. Jonfon.
Cynthia's Revels.

and fweat for every venial Trespass we cammit, as some Author. awould, if he had fuch fine Engles as we.

The Cafe is alter'd; (a Comedy not printed among B. Jonson's Works) What, Signior Antonio Balladino! welcome, fweet Engle.


What, fhall I have my Son a Stager now? an Engle for Players? And he likewife ufes it, as a Verb, in the fame Play, fignifying to be guile, defraud.

I'll prefently go, and engle fome Broker for a Poet's Gown, and bespeak a Garland.

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I know not what; but formal in apparel; (21)
In gate and countenance furly like a father.
Luc. And what of him, Tranio ?

Tra. If he be credulous, and trust my tale,
I'll make him glad to feem Vincentio,
And give him affurance to Baptifta Minola,
As if he were the right Vincentio :
Take in your love; and then let me alone.

Enter a Pedant.

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Ped. God fave you, Sir.

Tra. And you, Sir; you are welcome :
Travel you far on, or are you at the fartheft?
Ped. Sir, at the fartheft for a week or two;
But then up farther, and as far as Rome;
And fo to Tripoly, if God lend me life.
Tra. What countryman, I pray?
Ped. Of Mantua.


[Ex. Luc. and Bian,

Tra. Of Mantua, Sir? God forbid! And come to Padua, careless of your


Ped. My life, Sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard. Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua

To come to Padua, know you not the cause?
Your ships are ftaid at Venice, and the Duke
(For private quarrel 'twixt your Duke and him,)
Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly:
'Tis marvel, but that you're but newly come,
You might have heard it elfe proclaim'd about.
Ped. Alas, Sir; it is worfe for me than so;
For I have bills for mony by exchange
From Florence, and must here deliver them.
Tra. Well, Sir, to do you courtefie,
This will I do, and this will I advise you;


but formal in Apparel;

In Gate and Countenance furely like a Father.]

I have made bold to read, furly; and furely, I believe, I am right in doing fo. Our Poet always reprefents his Pedants, imperious and magifterial. Befides, Tranio's Directions to the Pedant for his Behaviour vouch for my Emendation.

'Tis well; and hold your own in any Cafe,
With fuch Aufterity as longeth to a Father.

First, tell me, have you ever been at Pifa?
Ped. Ay, Sir, in Pifa have I often been;
Pifa renowned for grave citizens.

Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio?
Ped. I know him not, but I have heard of him;
A merchant of incomparable wealth.

Tra. He is my father, Sir; and, footh to say,
In count'nance fomewhat doth resemble you.

Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, and all



Tra. To fave your life in this extremity,
This favour will I do you for his fake;
And think it not the worst of all your fortunes,
That you are like to Sir Vincentio:
His name and credit fhall you undertake,
And in my house you fhall be friendly lodg'd:
Look, that you take upon You as you should.
You understand me, Sir: fo fhall you stay
Till you have done your bufinefs in the city.
If this be court'fie, Sir, accept of it.

Ped. Oh, Sir, I do; and will repute you ever
The Patron of my life and liberty.

Tra. Then go with me to make the matter good;
This by the way I let you understand,
My father is here look'd for every day,
To pafs affurance of a dowre in marriage
'Twixt me and one Baptifta's daughter here:
In all these Circumftances I'll instruct you:
Go with Me, Sir, to cloath you as becomes you.


Enter Catharina and Grumio.

Gru. No, no, forfooth, I dare not for my life.
Cath. The more my wrong, the more his fpite ap-


What, did he marry me to famish me?
Beggars, that come unto my father's door,
Upon intreaty, have a prefent alms;
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity:
But I, who never knew how to intreat,


Nor never needed that I fhould intreat,
Am starv'd for meat, giddy for lack of fleep;
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed;
And that, which fpights me more than all these wants,
He does it under name of perfect love:
As who would fay, if I fhould fleep or eat
'Twere deadly fickness, or else present death:
I pr'ythee go, and get me fome repaft;
I care not what, so it be wholesome food.
Gru. What fay you to a neat's foot?

Cath. "Tis paffing good; I pr'ythee, let me have it.
Gru. I fear, it is too flegmatick a meat:
How fay you to a fat tripe finely broil'd?

Cath. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me. Gru. I cannot tell; I fear, it's cholerick: What say you to a piece of beef and mustard? Cath. A difh, that I do love to feed upon. Gru. Ay, but the muftard is too hot a little. Cath. Why, then the beef, and let the muftard rest. Gru. Nay, then I will not; you shall have the mus


Or else you get no beef of Grumio.

Cath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.
Gru. Why, then the muftard without the beef.
Cath. Go, get thee gone, thou falfe deluding flave,

[beats him.

That feed'ft me with the very name of meat:
Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you,
That triumph thus upon my mifery !
Go, get thee gone, I fay.

Enter Petruchio and Hortenfio, with meat.

Pet. How fares my Kate? what Sweeting, all amort? Hor. Miftrefs, what cheer?

Cath. 'Faith, as cold as can be.

Pet. Pluck up thy fpirits; look cheerfully upon me; Here, love, thou feeft how diligent I am, To dress thy meat my felf, and bring it thee: I'm fure, fweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks. What, not a word? nay then, thou lov'ft it not:


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