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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 pot unkindly, pray, That I have been thus pleasant with you both.

Hor. You may go walk, and give me leave a while ; My lessons make no mufick in three parts.

Luc. Are you so formal, Sir ? well, I must wait,
And watch withal; for, but I be deceiv'd,
Our fine musician groweth amorous.

Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument,
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 hath been taught by any of my trade;
And there it is in writing fairly drawn.

Bian. Why, I am past my Gamut long ago.
Hor. Yet read the Gamut of Hortenfio.
Bian. [reading.) Gamut I am, the ground of all

accord,
Are, to plead Hortenfio's paffion ;
B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord,

Cfaut, that loves with all affection ;
D fol re, one cliff, but two notes have I.
Elami, show pity, or I die.

Call you this Gamut ? tut, I like it not ;
Old fashions please me best ; I'm not so nice (15)
To change true rules for odd inventions.

Enter a Servant.
Serv. Mistress, your father prays you leave your
books,

And

(15) Old fasbions please me beft: I'm not so nice

To change true Rules for new Inventions.] This is Sense and the Meaning of the Passage ; but the Reada ing of the Second Verse, for all that, is sophisticated. The genuine Copies all concur in Reading, To change truc Rules for old Inventions,

This,

R 3

And help to dress your fifter's chamber up ;
You know, to morrow is the wedding-day.
Bian. Farewel, sweet masters, both; I must be gone.

[Exit. Luc. Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay.

[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 so humble, To cast thy wandring eyes on every Stale ; Seize thee, who lift; if once I find thee ranging, Hortenfio will be quit with thee by changing. [Exit. Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Catharina, Lu

centio, Bianca, and attendants. Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed day That Cató'rine and Petruchio should be married ; And yet we hear not of our son-in-law. What will be said ? what mockery will it be, To want the Bridegroom, when the Priest attends To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage ? What says Lucentio to this shame of ours ? Cath. No shame, but mine ; I must, forsooth, be

forcod To give my hand oppos’d against my heart, Ünto a mad-brain Rudesby, full of spleen ; Who woo'd in haste, and means to wed at leisure, I told you, I, he was a frantick fool, Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour : And to be noted for a merry man, 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 must the world point at poor

Catharine, And say, lo! there is mad Petruchio's wife,

This, indeed, is contrary to the very thing it should ex. press : But the easy Alteration, which I have made, restores the Sense, and adds a Contrast in the Terms perfe&ly jut. True Rules are oppos'd to 'odd Inventions ; i. e. Whimsies.

If

If it would please him come and marry

her. Tra. Patience, good Catharine, and Baptista too.; Upon my life, Petruchio means but well ; What ever fortune stays him from his word. Tho' he be blunt, I know him passing wise : Tho' he be merry, yet withal he's honest. Cath. Would Catharine had never seen him tho'!

[Exit weeping Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep; For such an injury would vex a Saint, Much more a Shrew of thy impatient humour.

Enter Biondello. Bion, Master, Master ; old news, and such 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 stands where I am,

there.
Tra. But, fay, what to thine 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-cases, one buckled, another lac'd ; an old rusty sword ta'en out of the town-armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless, with two broken points; his horse hip’d with an old mothy faddle, the stirrups of no kindred; besides, posseít with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine, troubled with the lampaíse, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls, sped with spavins, raied with the yellows, palt cure of the fives, ftark spoiled with the itaggers, begnawn with the bots, waid in the back and shoulderfhotten, near-legg'd before, and with a half-check't bit, and a headfall of theep's leather, which being restrain'd,

and fees you

to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burit, and now repair’d with knots; one girt fix times piec'd, and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath two let. ters for her name, fairly set down in ftuds, and here and there piec'd with packthread.

Bap. Who comes with him?

Bion. Oh, Sir, his lackey, for all the world caparifon'd like the horse, with a linnen stock on one leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, garter'd with a red and blue litt, an old hat, and the humour of forty fancies prickt up in't for a feather : a monster, a very monster in apparel, and not like a christian footboy, or a genteman's lackey. Tra. 'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this

fashion ;
Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell'd.

Bap. I am glad he's come, howsoever he comes.
Bion. Why, Sir, he comes not.
Bap. Didft thou not say, he comes ?
Bion. Who ? that Petruchio came not ?
Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came.

Bion. No, Sir; I say, his horse comes with him on his back.

Bap. Why, that's all one.

Bion. Nay, by St. Jamy, I hold you a penny, A horse and a man is more than one, and yet not many,

Enter Petruchio and Grumio fantastically habited.
Pet. Come, where be these gallants ? who is at

home?
Bap. You're welcome, Sir.
Pet. And yet I come not well.
Bap. And yet you halt not.
Trá. Not so well 'parell’d, 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?

Bay

Bap. Why, Sir, you know, this is your wedding-day: First, were we fad, fearing you would not come ; Now, fadder, that you come so unprovided. Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate, An eye-fore to our solemn festival.

Tra. And tell us what occasion of import Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife, And sent you hither so unlike

your

self? Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear : Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word, Tho' in some part enforced to digress, Which at more leisure I will so excuse, As you

shall well be satisfied withal. But, where is Kate ? I stay too long from her ; The morning wears ; 'tis time, we were at church.

Tra. See not your Bride in these unreverent robes ;
Go to my chamber, put on cloaths of mine.

Pet. Not I; believe me, thus I'll visit her.
Bap. But thus, I trust, you will not marry her.
Pet. Good footh, even thus; therefore ha' done with

words ;

To me she's married, not unto my cloaths :
Could I repair what she will wear in me,
As I could change these poor accoutrements,
'Twere well for Kate, and better for my self.
But what a fool am I to chat with you,
When I should bid good-morrow to my Bride,
And seal the title with a lovely kiss ?

[Exit.
Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad attire :
We will persuade him, be it posible,
To put on better ere he go to church.
Bap. I'll after him, and see the event of this.. [Exit,

Tra. But, Sir, our love concerneth us to add
Her Father's liking ; which to bring to pass,
As I before imparted to your Worship,
I am to get a man, (whate'er he be,
It skills not much ; we'll fit him to our turn ; )
And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa,
And make assurance here in Padua
Of greater fums than I have promised :

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