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Luc. Preposterous ass! that never read so far
Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.
Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong,
[To BIANCA.-HORTENSIO retires. Luc. That will be never !--Tune your instrument. Bian. Where left we last?
Luc. Here, madam.-
Bian. Construe them.
Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before, -Simois, I am Lucentio,- hic est, son unto Vincentio of Pisa, -Sigeia tellus, disguised thus to get your love ;-Hic steterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing, Priami, is my man Tranio,
- regia, bearing my port,-celsa senis, that we might beguile the old pantaloon.
Hor. Madam, my instrument's in tune. [Returning. Bian. Let's hear.
[HORTENSIO plays. O fie! The treble jars.
Luc. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.
Bian. Now let me see if I can construe it. Hac ibat Simois, I know you not;— hic est Sigeia tellus, I trust you not;- Hic steterat Priami, take heed he hear us not; regia, presume not; - celsa senis, despair not.
Hor. Madam, 'tis now in tune.
All but the base.
Bian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.
Luc. Mistrust it not; for sure, Æacides Was Ajax,— called so from his grandfather.
Bian. I must believe my master; else, I promise you, I should be arguing still upon that doubt. But let it rest.— Now, Licio, to you.Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray, That I have been thus pleasant with you both. Hor. You may go walk, [T. LUCENTIO.] and give me
Luc. Are you so formal, sir? Well, I must wait
Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument,
Bian. Why, I am past my gamut long ago.
A re, to plead Hortensio's passion ;
C faut, that loves with all affection ; D sol re, one cliff, two notes have I;
E la mi, show pity, or I die. Call
you this — gamut? Tut! I like it not: Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice, To change true rules for odd inventions.
Enter a Servant. Serv. Mistress, your father prays you leave your books, And help to dress your sister's chamber up; You know to-morrow is the wedding-day. Bian. Farewell, sweet masters both; I must be gone.
[Exeunt BIANCA and Servant. Luc. 'Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay.
Hor. But I have cause to pry into this pedant;
[Erit. SCENE II. The same. Before Baptista's House. Enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, TRANIO, KATHARINA, BIANCA,
LUCENTIO, and Attendants.
Kath. No shame but mine. I must, forsooth, be forced
Tra. Patience, good Katharine, and Baptista too.
[Exit, weeping, followed by BIANCA and others.
Enter BIONDELLO. Bion. Master, master! news, old news, and such news as you never heard of!
Bap. Is it new and old too? How may that be?
and sees you
Bap. When will he be here?
there. Tra. But say, what. - To thine old news.
Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new hat and an old jerkin; a pair of old breeches, thrice turned; a pair of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled, another laced; an old rusty sword ta'en out of the town armory, with a broken hilt and chapeless; with two broken points. His horse hipped with an old mothy saddle, the stirrups of no kindred: besides, possessed with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine; troubled with the lampass, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls, sped with spavins, raied with the yellows, past cure of the fives, stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the bots; swayed in the back, and shoulder-shotten; ne'er legged before; and with a halfchecked bit, and a head-stall of sheep's leather; which, being restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repaired with knots; one girt six times pieced, and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her name, fairly set down in studs, and here and there pieced with packthread.
Bap. Who comes with him?
Bion. O sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned like the horse; with a linen stock on one leg, and a kersey boothose on the other, gartered with a red and blue list; an old hat, and The humor of forty fancies, pricked in't for a feather:
: a monster, a very monster in apparel; and not like a Christian footboy, or a gentleman's lackey.
Tra. 'Tis some odd humor pricks him to this fashion ! Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparelled.
Bap. I am glad he is come, howsoever he comes.
Bion. No, sir; I say, his horse comes with him on his back.
Bap. Why, that's all one.
Bion. Nay, by Saint Jamy, I hold you a penny, A horse and a man is more than one,
yet not many. Enter PETRUCHIO and GRUMIO. Pet. Come, where be these gallants? Who is at home? Bap. You are welcome, sir. Pet.
And yet I come not well. Bap. And yet you halt not.
Not so well apparelled As I wish you were.
Pet. Were it better, I should rush in thus. But where is Kate? Where is my lovely bride ?-How does my father?-Gentles, methinks you frown. And wherefore gaze this goodly company, As if they saw some wondrous monument, Some comet, or unusual prodigy?
Bap. Why, sir, you know, this is your wedding day. First were we sad, fearing you would not come; Now sadder, that you come so unprovided. Fie! doff this habit, shame to your estate, An eye-sore to our solemn festival.
Tra. And tell us, what occasion of import
Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear :
Tra. See not your bride in these unreverent robes; Go to my chamber; put on clothes of mine.
Pet. Not I, believe me; thus I'll visit her.
[Exeunt Per., GRU., and Bion. Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad attire. We will persuade him, be it possible, To put on better
go to church. Bap. I'll after him, and see the event of this. [Exit.
Tra. But, sir, to her love concerneth us to add