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And as the fun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
What, is the jay more precious than the lark,
Because his feathers are more beautiful?
Or is the adder better than the eel,
Because his painted skin contents the eye?
Oh, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse
For this poor furniture, and mean array.
If thou account'ft it fhame, lay it on me;
And therefore frolic; we will hence forthwith,
To feaft and fiport us at thy father's houfe.
Go call my men, and let us ftraight to him,
And bring our horfes unto Long-lane end;
There will we mount, and thither walk on foot.
Let's fee, I think 'tis now fome feven o'clock,
And well we may come there by dinner time.
Cath. I dare affure you, Sir, 'tis almost two;
And 'twill be fupper-time ere you come there.
Pet. It fhall be feven, ere I go to horse.

Look, what I fpeak, or do, or think to do,

You are still croffing it. Sirs, let't alone,
I will not go to-day, and ere I do,
It fhall be what o'clock I fay it is.

Hor. Why, fo: this gallant will command the fun.

[Exeunt Pet. Cath. and Hor. [The Prefenters, above, speak here. [Sly fleeps.

Lord. Who's within there?

Enter Servants.

Afleep again! go take him easily up, and put him in his own apparel again. But fee you wake him not in any cafe.

Serv. It shall be done, my Lord; come, help to bear him hence.

SCENE

[They bear off Sly.

IX.

Before Baptifta's House.

Enter Tranio, and the Pedant dress'd like Vincentio.

Tra. Sir, this is the houfe; please it you that I call?

Ped. Ay, what else? and (but I be deceived,) Signior Baptifta may remember me

Near twenty years ago in Genoa,

Where we were lodgers, at the Pegasus.

Tra. 'Tis well, and hold your own in any cafe With fuch aufterity as 'longeth to a father. Enter Biondello.

Ped. I warrant you: but, Sir, here comes your boy;

'Twere good he were fchool'd.

Tra. Fear you not him. Sirrah, Biondello, Now do your duty throughly, I advise you: Inagine 'twere the right Vincentio.

Bion. Tut, fear not me.

Tra. But haft thou done thy errand to Baptista? Bion. I told him that your father was in Venice; And that you look'd for him this day in Padua. Tra. Th'art a tall fellow; hold thee that to drink. Here comes Baptifta; fet your countenance, Sir.

Enter Baptifta and Lucentio.

Tra. Signior Baptifta, you are happily met.
Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of;

I pray you ftand, good father, to me now,
Give me Bianca for my patrimony.

Ped. Soft, fon. Sir, by your leave, having come to Padua

To gather in fome debts, my fon Lucentio
Made me acquainted with a weighty caufe
Of love between your daughter and himself:
And for the good report I hear of you,
And for the love he beareth to your daughter,
And the to him; to ftay him not too long,
I am content, in a good father's care,

To have him match'd; and if you please to like
No worfe than I, Sir, upon fome agreement,
Me fhall you find moft ready and most willing,
With one confent, to have her fo beftowed:
For curious I cannot be with you,

Signior Baptifta, of whom I hear fo well.

Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I have to say: Your plainnefs and your shortnefs pleafe me well. Right true it is, your fon Lucentio here Doth love my daughter, and the loveth him, Or both diffemble deeply their affections; And therefore if you fay no more than this, That like a father you will deal with him, And pafs my daughter a fufficient dowry, The match is made, and all is done;

Your fon fhall have my daughter with confent. Tra. I thank you, Sir. Where then, do you know beft,

Be we affied; and fuch affurance ta'en,
As fhall with either part's agreement stand?
Bap. Not in my houfe, Lucentio ; for, you know,
Pitchers have ears, and I have many fervants;
Befides, old Gremio is hearkning still;
And, haply, then we might be interrupted.

Tra. Then at my lodging, an it like you, Sir:
There doth my father ly; and there this night
We'll pafs the bufinefs privately and well.
Send for your daughter by your fervant here;
My boy fhall fetch the fcrivener presently.
The worst is this, that at fo flender warning
You're like to have a thin and flender pittance.
Bap. It likes me well. Go, Cambio, hie you home,
And bid Bianca make her ready straight;
And, if you will, tell what hath happen'd here:
Lucentio's father is arriv'd in Padua,
And how fhe's like to be Lucentio's wife.

Luc. I pray the gods she may, with all my heart! [Exit. Tra. Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone. Signior Baptifta, fhall I lead the way? Welcome! one mefs is like to be your chear. Come, Sir, we will better it in Pifa. Bap. I'll follow you.

[Exeunt.

Enter Lucentio and Biondello.

Bion. Cambio.

Luc. What fay'ft thou, Biondello?

Bion. You faw my mafter wink, and laugh upon

you.

Luc. Biondello, what of that?

Bion. 'Faith nothing; but he's left me here behind, to expound the meaning or moral of his figns and tokens.

Luc. I pray thee, moralize them.

Bion. Then thus. Baptifta is fafe, talking with the deceiving father of a deceitful fon.

Luc. And what of him?

Bion. His daughter is to be brought by you to the fupper.

Luc. And then?

Bion. The old prieft at St Luke's church is at your command at all hours.

Luc. And what of all this?

Bion. I cannot tell, except they are bufied about a counterfeit, affurance; take your affurance of her, Cum privilegio ad imprimendum folùm; to th' church take the priest, clerk, and fome fufficient honest witneffes. If this be not that you look for, I have no more to say, but bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day.

Luc. Hear'ft thou, Biondello?

Bion. I cannot tarry; I knew a wench married in an afternoon, as he went to the garden for parfley to stuff a rabbit; and so may you; Sir, and fo adieu, Sir; my mafter hath appointed me to go to St Luke's, to bid the priest be ready to come against you come with your appendix. [Exit.

Luc. I may and will, if fhe be fo contented:
She will be pleas'd, then wherefore fhould I doubt ?
Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her :
It fhall go hard, if Cambio go without her.

[Exit.

Enter Petruchio, Catharina, and Hortenfio.

Pet. Come on, o' God's name, once more, tow'rds our father's.

Good Lord, how bright and goodly fhines the moon! Cath. The moon! the fum: it is not moon-light

now.

Pet. I fay it is the moon that fhines fo bright. Cath. I know it is the fun that fhines fo bright. Pet. Now by my mother's fon, and that's myfelf, It fhall be moon, or ftar, or what I lift, Or ere I journey to your father's houfe: Go on, and fetch our horfes back again. Evermore croft and croft, nothing but croft! Hor. Say as he fays, or we fhall never go. Cath. Forward, I pray, fince we are come fo far, And be it moon, or fun, or what you please: And if you please to call it a rush candle, Henceforth I vow it fhall be fo for me. Pet. I fay it is the moon.

Cath. I know it is the moon.

Pet: Nay, then you lie; it is the bleffed fun. Cath. Then God be bleft, it is the bleffed fun. But fun it is not, when you fay it is not; And the moon changes even as your mind. What you will have it named, even that it is, And fo it fhall be fo for Catharine.

Hor. Petruchio, go thy way, the field is won. Pet. Well, forward, forward; thus the bow. fhould run,

And not unluckily against the bias.

But foft, fome company is coming here.

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