Hor. Petruchio, fhall I then come roundly to thee, And with thee to a fhrew'd ill-favour'd wife? Thoud'ft thank me but a little for my counfel,

And yet, I'll promife thee, the fhall be rich,

And very rich but thou'rt too much my friend,
And I'll not wifh thee to her.

Pet. Signior Hortenfio, 'twixt fuch friends as us
Few words fuffice; and therefore if you know
One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife;
(As wealth is burden of my wooing dance)
Be the as foul as was Florentius' love,
As old as Sibyl, and as curft and fhrewd
As Socrates' Xantippe, or a worse,

She moves me not; or not removes, at least,
Affection's edge in me. Were the as rough
As are the fwelling Adriatick Seas,

I come to wive it wealthily in Padua:
If wealthily, then happily, in Padua.

Gru. Nay, look you, Sir, he tells you flatly what his mind is why, give him gold enough, and marry him to a puppet, or an aglet-baby, or an old Trot with ne'er a tooth in her head, tho' the have as many difeafes as two and fifty horfes; why, nothing comes amiís, fo money comes withal.

Hor. Petruchio, fince we are ftept thus far in, I will continue that I broach'd in jeft.

I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife

With wealth enough, and young and beauteous;
Brought up, as beft becomes a gentlewoman.
Her only fault, and that is fault enough,
Is, that he is intollerably curt:

And fhrewd, and froward, fo beyond all meafure,
That, were my ftate far worfer than it is,

I would not wed her for a Mine of gold.

Pet. Hortenfio, peace; thou know'it not gold's effect; Tell me her Father's name, and 'tis enough:" For I will board her, tho' fhe chide as loud As thunder, when the clouds in Autumn crack. Hor. Her Father is Baptifta Minola,

An affable and courteous Gentleman;

Her name is Catharina Minola,

Renown'd in Padua for her fcolding tongue.

Pet. I know her Father, tho' I know not her;
And he knew my deceased Father well.

I will not fleep, Hortenfio, 'till I fee her,
And therefore let me be thus bold with you,
To give you over at this firft encounter,
Unless you will accompany me thither.

Gru. I pray you, Sir, let him go while the humour lafts. O' my word, an fhe knew him as well as I do, fhe would think fcolding would do little good upon him. She may, perhaps, call him half a score knaves, or fo: why, that's nothing; an' he begin once, he'll rail in his rope-tricks. I'll tell you what, Sir, an' fhe ftand him but a little, he will throw a figure in her face, and fo disfigure her with it, that the hall have no more eyes to fee withal than a cat: you know him not, Sir.

Hor. Tarry, Petruchio, I muft go with thee, For in Baptifta's houfe my Treasure is:

He hath the jewel of my life in hold,

His youngest Daughter, beautiful Bianca;

(7) And her with-holds he from me, and others more
Suitors to her, and Rivals in my love:
Suppofing it a thing impoffible,

(For thofe defects I have before rehears'd,).
That ever Catharina will be woo'd;
Therefore this order hath Baptifia ta'en,
That none fhall have accefs unto Bianca,
'Till Catharine the curft have got a husband,
Gru. Catharine the curft?

A title for a maid of all titles the worst!

Her. Now fhall my friend Petruchio do me grace,

(7) And her ruithholds be from me. Other more Suitors to her, and Rivals in my Love: &c.] The Editors, in this Carelessness of their Pointing, have made fark Nonfenfe of this Paffage. The Regulation, which I have given to the Text, was dictated to me by the ingenious Dr. Thirlby.

1

And

And offer me disguis'd in fober robes
To old Baptifta as a school-master,
Well feen in mufick, to inftru&t Bianca;
That fo I may by this device, at leaft,
Have leave and leifure to make love to her;
And, unfufpected, court her by herself.

Enter Gremio, and Lucentio difguis'd.

Gru. Here's no knavery! fee, to beguile the old folks, how the young folks lay their heads together. Master, look about you: who goes there? ha!

Hor. Peace, Grumio, 'tis the rival of my Petruchio, ftand by a while.

love.

Gru. A proper ftripling, and an amorous.-
Gre. O, very well; I have perus'd the note.
Hark you, Sir, I'll have them very fairly bound,
All books of love; fee that, at any hand;
And fee, you read no other lectures to her:
You understand me- -Over and befide

Signior Baptifta's liberality,

I'll mend it with a largefs. Take your papers too,
And let me have them very well perfum'd;
For she is sweeter than perfume itself,

To whom they go; what will you read to her ?
Luc. Whate'er I read to her, I'll plead for you,
As for my patron, ftand you so affured;
As firmly, as yourself were still in place;
Yea, and, perhaps, with more fuccefsful words
Than you, unless you were a fcholar, Sir.
Gre. Oh this learning, what a thing it is!
Gru. O this woodcock, what an ass it is !-
Pet. Peace, Sirrah.

Hor. Grumie, mum! God fave you, Signior Gremio. 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 school-mafter 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.

Hor. 'Tis well; and I have met a gentleman,
Hath promis'd me to help me to another,
A fine mufician to inftruct our mistress;
So fhall I no whit be behind in duty `
To fair Bianca, fo belov'd of me.

my

deeds fhall prove.

Gre. Belov'd of me,—and that
Gru. And that his bags fhall prove.

Hor. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love.
Listen to me; and, if you fpeak me fair,

I'll tell you news indifferent good for either.
Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met,
Upon agreement from us to his liking,
Will undertake to woo curft Catharine;
Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please.
Gre. So faid, fo done, is well;

Hortenfio, have you told him all her faults?
Pet. I know the is an irkfome brawling fcold;
If that be all, mafters, I hear no harm.

Gre. No, fayeft me fo, friend? what countryman ?
Pet. Born in Verona, old Antonio's fon;

My father's dead, my fortune lives for me,

And I do hope good days and long to fee.

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 shall have me affifting you in all.

But will you wooe this wild cat?

Pet. Will I live?

Gru. Will he wooe 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 I not in my time heard lions roar?
Have I not heard the fea, puff'd up with winds,
Rage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat ?
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field ?
And heav'n's artillery thunder in the skies?
Have I not in a pitched battle heard

Loud larums, neighing feeds, and trumpets clangue ?
And do you tell me of a woman's tongue,

That gives not half fo great a blow to hear,
As will a chefnut in a farmer's fire ?

Tufb,

Tufh, tufh, fear boys with bugs.
Gru. For he fears none..
Gre. Hortenfio, hark:

This gentleman is happily arriv'd,

My mind prefumes, for his own good, and ours.
Hor. I promis'd, we would be contributors;
And bear his charge of wooing whatfoe'er.

Gre. And fo we will, provided that he win her.
Gru. I would, I were as fure of a good dinner.

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 readieft 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

Tra. Perhaps him and her; what have you to do ? Pet. Not her that chides, Sir, at any hand, I pray. 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 she.

Tra. For what reafon, I befeech you ?
Gre. For this reafon, if you'll know :
That she's the choice love of Signior Gremio.
Hor. That he's the chofen of Signior Hortenfio.
Tra. Softly, my mafters; if you be gentlemen,
Do me this right; hear me with patience.
Baptifta is a noble gentleman,

To whom my father is not all unknown;
And, were his daughter fairer than fhe is,
She may more fuitors have, and me for one.