Bian. What, mafter, read you? first, resolve me that. Luc. I read That I profefs the art of Love. heart. Hor. Quick proceeders! marry! now, tell me, I pray, you that durft fwear that your miftrefs Bianca lov'd none in the world fo well as Lucentio. Tra. Defpightful love, unconftant womankind! I tell thee, Licio, this is wonderful. Hor. Mistake no more, I am not Licio, But One that fcorns to live in this disguise, Tra. Signior Hortenfio, I have often heard. And fince mine eyes are witnefs of her lightnefs, Hor. See, how they kifs and court! Lucentio, Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow Signior Tra. And here I take the like unfeigned oath, Never to marry her, tho' fhe intreat. Fy on her fee, how beaftly fhe doth court him. Hor. 'Would all the world, but he, had quite forfworn her! 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, Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, [Exit. Hor. grace, Tra. Mistress Bianca, blefs you with fuch Lucentio and Bianca come forward.] Bian. Tranio, you jeft: but have you both forfworn me? Tra. Miftrefs, we have. Luc. 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 school. Bian. The Taming fchool? what, is there fuch a place? Tra. Ay, miftrefs, and Petruchio is the mafter; That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long, To tame a Shrew, and charm her chattering tongue. SCENE V. Enter Biondello, running. Bion. Oh master, master, I have watch'd fo long, That I'm dog-weary; but at last I spied An ancient angel going down the hill, Will ferve the turn. Tra. What is he, Biondello? Bion. Mafter, a mercantant, or elfe a pedant; I know not what; but formal in apparel; 5 An ancient Angel.] For angel Mr. Theobald, and after him Sir T. Hanmer, and Dr. Warbur ton read Engle. F 3 In In gaite and countenance furly like a father. Tra. If he be credulous, and truft my tale, Take in your love, and then let me alone. [Exeunt Lucentio and Bianca. Enter a Pedant. Ped. God fave you, Sir. Tra. And you, Sir; you are welcome: Pcd. Of Mantua. goes hard. Tra. Of Mantua, Sir? God forbid! 6-Surely like a father.] I know not what he is, fays the fpeaker; however, this is certain, he has the gait and countenance of a fatherly man. WARBURTON. Ped. 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 refemble you. Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyiter, and all one. Tra. To fave your life in this extremity, This favour will I do you for his fake; His name and credit fhall you undertake, Ped. Oh, Sir, I do; and will repute you ever [Afide. 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 dower in marriage ''Twixt me and one Baptifta's daughter here: In all these circumftances I'll inftruct you: Go with me, Sir, to cloath you as becomes you. [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Enter Catharina and Grumio. Gru. No, no, forfooth, I dare not for my life. pears: What, did he marry me to famish me? Beggars, that come unto my father's door, Am ftarv'd for meat, giddy for lack of fleep; As who would fay, If I fhould fleep or eat Cath. 'Tis paffing good; I pry'thee, let me have it. Cath. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me. Gru. I cannot tell;-I fear, it's cholerick: What fay you to a piece of beef and mustard? Cath. A difh, that I do love to feed upon. Gru. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. Cath. Why, then the beef, and let the muftard reft. Gru. Nay, then I will not; you fhall have the mustard, Or else you get no beef of Grumio. Cath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt. Gru. Why, then the mustard without the beef. Cath. Go, get thee gone, thou falfe deluding flave, [Beats him. That feeds 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. SCENE |