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Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat,
elders. Cath. Of all thy Suitors here, I charge thee, tell Whom thou lov'st beft : fee, thou dissemble not.
Bian. Believe me, Sifter, of all men alive
Cath. Minion, thou lieft; is't not Hortenfio ?
Bian. If you affect him, fifter, here I swear, I'll plead for you my self, but you shall have him.
Cath. Oh, then, belikę, you fancy riches more ; You will have Gremio, to keep you fair. Bian. Is it for him
folence ? Bianca, stand aside; poor girl, she weeps ; Go ply thy needle, meddle not with her. For shame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit, Why dost thou wrong her, that did ne'er wrong thee? When did she cross thee with a bitter word ? Cath. Her filence flouts me; and I'll be reveng'd.
[Flies after Bianca. Bap. What, in my fight? Bianca, get thee in.
[Exit Bianca. Cath. Will you not suffer me? nay, now I see, She is your treasure; she must have a husband; I must dance bare-foot on her wedding-day, And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell : Talk not to me, I will
go ?Till I can find occasion of revenge.
[Exit Cath. Bap. Was ever gentleman thus griev'd, as I ? But who comes here?
fit and weep,
Enter Gremio, Lucentio in the habit of a mean man Petruchio with Hortensio, like a musician; Tranio
and Biondello bearing a lute and books. Gre. Good morrow, neighbour Baptista.
Bap. Good morrow, neighbour Gremio: God fave you, gentlemen.
Pet. And you, good Sir; pray, have you not a daughter call'd' Catharina, fair and virtuous ?
Bap. I have a daughter, Sir, callid Catharina.
Pet. You wrong me, Signior Gremio, give me leave.
[Presenting Hor. I do present you with a man of mine, Cunning in musick, and the mathematicks, To instruct her fully in those sciences, Whereof, I know, she is not ignorant : Accept of him, or else you do me wrong, His name is Licio, born in Mantua. Bap. You're welcome, Sir, and he for your good
fake. But for my daughter Catharine, this I know, She is not for your turn, the more's my grief.
Pet. I see, you do not mean to part with her ; Or else you like not of my company.
Bap. Mistake me not, I speak but what I find. Whence are you, Sir ? what may I call your name?
Pet. Petruchio is my name, Antonio's son, A man well known throughout all Italy. Bap. I know him well : you are welcome for his
fake. Gre, Saving your tile, Petruchis, I pray, let us, that
are poor petitioners, speak top. Baccalare! — you are marvellous forward. (10)
Per. Oh, pardon me, Signior Gremio, I would fain be doing. (!)
Gre. I doubt it not, Sir, but you will curse your wooing. --Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am sure of it. To express the like kindness my self, that have been more kindly beholden to you than any, free leave give to this young scholar, that hath been long ftudying at Reims, [Presenting Luc.] as cunning in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as the other in mufick and mathematicks ; his name is Cambio ; pray, accept
his service. Bap. A thousand thanks, Signior Gremio: welcome, good Cambio. But, gentle Sir, methinks, you walk like a stranger ; [T. Tranio.] may I be so bold to know the cause of your coming ?
Tra. Pardon me, Sir, the boldness is mine own, That, being a stranger in this City here,
(10) Baccare, you are marvellous forward.) But not fo forward, as our Editors are indolent and acquiefcing. This is a stupid Corruption of the Press, that None of them have div'd into. We must read, Baccalare, as Mr. Warburton acutely observ'd to me; by which the Italians mean, Thou arrogant, prefumptuous Man! The Word is used fcornfully, upon any one that would assume a Port of Grandeur and high Repute.
(11) Oh, pardon me, Signior Gremio, I would fain be doing.
Gre. I donbt it not, Sir, but you will curse your wooing Neigha bours. This is a Gift;] It would be very unreasonable, after such a number of Instances, to suspect, the Editors ever dwelt on the meaning of any Passage : But why should Petruchio curfe his wooing Neighbours ? They were None of them his Rivals : Nor, tho' he should curse his own Match afterwards, did he commence his Courtship on their Accounts. In short, Gremio is design'd to answer to Petruchio in doggrel Rhyme, to this purpose, “ Yes; I know, You would fain be doing; but “s you'll coap with such a Devil, that you'll have Reason to “ curse your Wooing.” - and then immediately curns his Discourse to Baptista, whom he calls Neighbour, (as he had done before at the Beginning of this Scene,) and makes his Present to him,
Do make my self a suitor to your daughter,
[They greet privately. Bap. Lucentio is your name ? of whence I pray ? Tra. Of Pisa, Sir, son to Vincentio.
Bap. A mighty man of Pija; by Report
[To Hortenfio and Lucentio. You shall go see your pupils presently. Holla, within !
Enter a Servant.
[Exit Serv. with Hortenfio and Lucentio.
Pet. Signior Baptista, my business asketh hafte,
father well, and in him me,
Bap. After my death, the one half of my lands :
Her widowhood, be it that she survive me,
Bap. Ay, when the special thing is well obtain'd,
Pet. Why, that is nothing : for I tell you, father, I am as peremptory as she proud-minded. And where two raging fires meet together; They do consume the thing that feeds their fury : Thoo little fire grows great with little wind, Yet extream gusts will blow out fire and all : So I to her, and so she yields to me, For I am rough, and wooe not like a babe.
Bap. Well may'st thou wooe, and happy be thy • speed ! But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words.
Pet. Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds : That shake not, tho they blow perpetually.
Enter Hortensio with his head broke. Bap. How now, my friend, why doft thou look
lo pale ? Hor. For fear, I promise you, if I look paie. Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good mu
fician? Hor. I think, she'll sooner prove a foldier ; Iron
may hold with her, but never lutes. Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her to the
lute ? Hor. Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me. I did but tell her the miftook her frets, And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering, When, with a most impatient devilish fpirit, Frets call you them ? quoth she : I'll fume with them : And with that word she struck me on the head, And through the instrument my Pate made way, And there I stood amazed for a while, As on a pillory, looking through the lute : While she did call me rascal, fidler,