Tra. That only came well in: Sir, lift to me;
I am my Father's Heir, and only Son;
If I may have your Daughter to my Wife,
I'll leave her Houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pifa Walls, as any one
Old Signior Gremio has in Padua;z
Befides two thousand Ducats by the Year
Of fruitful Land; all which shall be her Jointure.
What, have I pincht you, Signior Gremio ?

Gre. Two thousand Ducats by the Year of Land!
My Land amounts not to fo much in all:
That the fhall have, befides an Argofie
That now is lying in Marfellies Road.
What, have I choakt you with an Argofie?

Tra. Gremio, 'tis known my Father hath no less
Than three great Argofies, befides two Galliaffes,
And twelve tight Gallies; thefe I will affure her,
And twice as much, what e'er thou offer'ft next.
Gre. Nay, I have offer'd all; I have no more;
And the can have no more than all I have;
If you like me, the fhall have me and mine.

Tra. Why then the Maid is mine from all the World By your firm Promife; Gremio is out-vied.

Bap. I must confefs your Offer is the beft;
And let your Father make her the fame Affurance,
She is your own, elfe you muft pardon me:
If you should die before him, where's her Dower?
Tra. That's but a Cavil; he is old, I young.
Gre. And may not young Men die as well as old?
Bap. Well, Gentlemen, I am thus refolv'd,

On Sunday next, you know,

My Daughter Katharine is to be married:
Now on the Sunday following fhall Bianca
Be Bride to you, if you make this Affurance;
If not, to Signior Gremio:

And fo I take my leave, and thank you both.

[Exit.

Gro. Adieu, good Neighbour. Now I fear thee not:

Sirrah, young Gamefter, your Father were a Fool

To give thee all, and in his waining Age
Set Foot under thy Table: tut, a Toy;

An old Italian Fox is not fo kind, my Boy.

[Exit.

Tra;

Tra. A Vengeance on your crafty withered Hide;
Yet I have fac'd it with a Card of ten:

'Tis in my Head to do my Mafter good;
I fee no Reason, but fuppos'd Lucentio
May get a Father, call'd fuppos'd Vincentio;
And that's a Wonder: Fathers commonly

Do get
their Children; but in this Cafe of wooing,
A Child shall get a Sire, if I fail not of my Cunning.

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Enter Lucentio, Hortenfio, and Bianca.

Luc. Fidler, forbear; you grow too forward, Sir:

Have you fo foon forgot the Entertainment

Her Sifter Katharine welcom'd you withal?
Hor. But wrangling Pedant, this is
The Patronefs of Heav'nly Harmony;
Then give me leave to have Prerogative;
And when in Mufick we have spent an Hour,
Your Lecture shall have Leifure for as much.

Luc. Prepofterous Afs, that never read fo far,
To know the Caufe why Mufick was ordain'd:
Was it not to refresh the Mind of Man
After his Studies, or his ufual Pain?
Then give me leave to read Philofophy,
And while I pause, serve in your Harmony.

[Exit.

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 Hour, nor pointed Times,

But learn my Leffons as I pleafe my felf;

And to cut off all Strife, here fit we down,
Take you your Inftrument, play you the whiles,
His Lecture will be done e'er you have tun'd.

Hor. You'll leave this Lecture when I am in Tune?
Luc. That will be never: Tune your Inftrument.

Bian. Where left we laft?

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

Bian. Conftrue them.

Luc. Hic ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio, hic eft, Son unto Vincentio of Pifa, Sigeia tellus, difgulfed thus to get your Love, hic 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.

Bian. Now let me fee if I can conftrue it: Hic that, Simois, I know you not, hic eft figeia tellus, I truft you not, hic 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.
Luc. How fiery and froward our Pedant is!

Now for my Life that Knave doth court my Love;
Pedafcule, I'll watch
you better yet:
In time I may believe, yet I miftruft.

Bian, Miftruft it not, for fure acides
Was Ajax, call'd fo from his Grandfather.
I must believe my Master, elfe I promise you,
I fhould be arguing ftill upon that Doubt;
But let it reft. Now Licio to you:
Good Mafter, 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 not 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 Mifician groweth amorous.

Hor. Madam, before you touch the Inftrument,
To learn the Order of my Fingering,
I must begin with Rudiments of Art,
To teach you Gamut in a briefer fort,
More pleasant, pithy, and effectual,

Than

"Than hath been taught by any of my Trade;
And there it is in Writing fairly drawn.

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

Bian. Gamut I am, the Ground of all Accord,
Are, to plead Hortenfio's Paffion,

Beeme, Bianca, take him for thy Lord,
Cfaut, that loves thee with all Affection,
D' fol re, one Cliff, two Notes have I,
Elami, fhow Pity, or I die.

Call you this Gamut? Tut, I like it not;
Old Fashions please me beft; I am not so nice
To change true Rules for old Inventions.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Mistress, your Father prays you leave your Books, And help to dress your Sifter's Chamber up; You know to Morrow is the Wedding-Day.

Bian. Farewel, fweet Mafters both; I must be gone. [Ex. Luc. Faith Mistress, then I have no Cause to ftay. [Exit. Hor. But I have Cause 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 that lift; if once I find thee ranging, Hortenfio will be quit with thee by changing.

[Exit.

Enter Baptifta, Gremio, Tranio, Katharina, Lucentio, Bianca, and Attendants.

Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the pointed Day That Katharine and Petruchio fhould be married; And yet we hear not of our Son-in-law.

What will be faid? what Mockery will it be,

To want the Bridegroom when the Prieft attends
To speak the ceremonial Rites of Marriage?

What fays Lucentio to this Shame of ours?

Kath. No Shame but mine; I muft, forfooth, be forc'd

To give my Hand oppos'd against my Heart,

Unto a mad-brain Rudesby, full of Spleen,

Who woo'd in hafte, and means to wed at leisure.

I told you I, he was a frantick Fool,

Hiding his bitter Jefts in blunt Behaviour:

And to be noted for a merry Man,

VOL. II.

R

He'll

He'll woo a thousand, point the Day of Marriage,
Make Friends, invite yes, and proclaim the Banes;
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
Now muft the World point at poor Katharina,
And fay, lo there is mad Petruchio's Wife,
If it would please him come and marry her.
Tra. Patience, good Katharine, and Baptifta too;
Upon my Life Petruchio means but well,
Whatever Fortune stays him from his Word.
Tho' he be blunt, I know him paffing wife;
Tho' he be merry, yet withal he's honeft.

Kath. Would Katharine had never seen him tho'.

[Exit weeping. Bap. Go, Girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep; For fuch an Injury would vex a Saint,

Much more a Shrew of thy impatient Humour.

Enter Biondello.

Bion. Master, 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. Is he come?

Bion. Why, no Sir.

Bap. What then.

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 thy 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 Sword ta'en out of the Town-Armory, with a broken Hilt, and Chapeless, with two broken Points; his Horfe hip'd with an old mothy Saddle, the Stirrops of no Kindred, befides poffeft with the Glanders, and like to mose in the Chine, troubled with the Lampaffe, infected with the Fashions, full of Windgalls, fped with Spavins, raied with the Yellows, paft Cure of the Fives, ftark spoil'd with the Staggers, begnawn with the Bots, waid in the Back, and Shoulder-fhotten, near leg'd before, and with a half checkt Bit, and a Headftall of Sheep's Leather, which being reftrain'd