Hor. Mates, maid! how mean you that? no mates

for you;

your fill.

Unless you were of gentler, milder mould.

Cath. I'faith, Sir, you shall never need to fear.
I wis it is not half way to her heart:
But if it were, doubt not, her care shall be
To comb your noddle with a three legg'd stool,
And paint your face, and use you like a fool.

Hor. From all such devils, good Lord deliver us !
Gre. And me too, good Lord.
Tra. Hush, master, here's some good?

pastime toward;
That wench is stark mad, or wonderful

froward;
Luc. But in the other's silence I do fee Afide.
Maid's mild behaviour and sobriety.
Peace, Tranio.
Tra. Well said, master ; mum,

and

gaze
Bap. Gentlemen, that I may foon make good
What I have said, Bianca, get you in;
And let it not displease thee, good Bianca;
For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl.

Cath. A pretty peat ! it is best put finger in the eye, an she knew why.

Bian. Sister, content you in my discontent.
-Sir, to your pleature humbly I subscribe :
My books and instruments shall be my company,
On them to look, and practise by myielf.
Luc. Hark, Tranio, thou may'st hear Minerva
speak

[Aside.
Hor. 'Signior Baptista, will you be so strange?
Şorry am I that our good will effects
Bianca's grief.

Gre. Why will you mew her up,
Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,
And make her bear the penance of her tongue ?

Bap. Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolv’d.
Go in, Bianca.-

[Exit Bianca
And for I know she taketh most delight
In music instruments, and poetry;
School-masters will I keep within my house,

Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio,
Or Signior Gremio, you, know any such,
Prefer them hither: for to cunning meni
I will be very kind; and liberal
To mine own children, in good bringing up.
And so farewell : Catharina, you may stay,
For I have more to commune with Bianca. [Exit.

Cath. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not? What, fhall I be appointed hours, as tho', belike, I knew not what to take, and what to leave? ha!

[Exit. S CE N E III. Gre. You may go to the devil's dam. Your gifts are to good, here is none will hold you. Our love is not so great, Hortenfin, but we may blow our pails together, and fast it fairly out. Our cake's dough on both fides. Farewell. Yet for the love I bear my tweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit man to teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father.

Hor. So will I, Signior Gremio. But a word, I pray; though the nature of our quarrel never yet brook'd parle, know now, upon advice, it toucheth us both, that we may yet again have acceis to our fair mistreis, and be happy rivals in Bianca's lo e, to labour and effe&t one thing 'specially.

Gre, What's that, I pray ?
Hor. Marry, Sir, to get a hufband for her fister.
Gre. A husband ! a devil.-
Hor. I say a husband.

Gre. I fay a devil. Think'st thou, Hortenfio, tho' her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to hell?

Hor. Tulh, Gremio ;-tho' it pass your patience and mine to endure her loud alarms, why, man, there be good fellows in the world, an'a man could light on them, would take her with all her fauks, and money enough.

Gre. I cannot tell ; but I had as lief take her dowry with this condition, to be whip'd at the high cross every morning.

Hor. 'Faith, as you say, there's a small choice in rotten apples. But come, lince this bar in law makes us friends, it shall be so far forth friendly maintain'd, 'till by helping Baptista's eldest daugh ter to a husband, we let his youngest free for a husband, and then have to't afrelhi. Sweet Bianca ! happy man be his dole! he that runs fastest gets the ring; how fay you, Signior Gremio ?

Gre. I am agreed; and would I had given him the best horse in Padua to begin his wooing, that would thoroughly woo her, wed her, and bed her, and rid the house of her. Come on.

[Exeunt Gremio and Hortensio.

S CE N E IV.

Manent Tranio and Lucentio.
Tra. I pray, Sir, tell me, is it po!lible
That love should on a sudden take such hold?

Luc. Oh Tranio, 'till I found it to be true,
I never thought it pollible likely.
But see, while idly I stood looking on,
I found th' effect of love in idleness:
And now in plainness do confess to thee,
(That art to me as secret, and as dear,
As Anna to the Queen of Carthage was ;)
Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio,
If I atchieve not this young modest girl.
Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst;
Allist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt.

I'ra. Master, it is no time to chide you now;
Affection is not rated from the heart.
If love hath touch'd you, nought remains but fo*,
Redime te captum quàm queas minimo to

• The next line from Terence, shews that we should read, “ If love hath toild you,”-i. e. taken you in his toils, his nets. Alluding to the captus eft habet, of the fame author. Warburton.

+ Our author had this line from Lilly; which I mention, that it may not be brought as an argument of his learning.. Johnson.

Luc. Gramercy, lad; go forward, this contents; The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound.

Tra. Master, you lookd so longly on the maid, Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all.

Luc. O yes, I saw fweet beauty in her face; Such as the daughter of Agenor had, That made great Jove to humble him to her hand, When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand. Tra. Saw you no more ? mark'd you not how

her filter Began to fcold, and raise up such a storm, That mortal ears might hardly endure the din ?

Luc. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move, And with her breath she did perfume the air ; Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her.

Trå. Nay, then'tis time to stir him from his trance.
I pray, awake, Sir; if you love the maid,
Bend thoughts and wit ťatchieve her. Thus it

stands;
Her eldest sister is so curs'd and shrewd,
That till the father rids his hands of her,
Master, your love must live a maid at home;
And therefore has he closely mew'd her up,
Because she shall not be annoy'd with suitors.

Luc. Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father's he !
But art thou not advis', he took some care
To get her cunning school-masters t instruct her?

Tra. Ay, marry am I, Sir; and now 'tis ploited.
Luc. I have it, Tranio.

Tra. Master, for my hand,
Both our inventions meet and jump in one.

Luc. Tell me thine first.

Tra. You will be schoolinaster,
And undertake the teaching of the maid:
That's your device.

Luc. It is : may it be done?

Tra. Not pollible: for wlo fhall bear your part, And be in Padua here Vincentio's lon, Keep house, and ply his book, welcome his friends, Visit his counirymen, and banquet them?

Luc. Bafta ;-content thee; for I have it full. We have not yet been seen in any house,

Nor can we be distinguish'd by our faces,
For man or master : then it follows thus.
Thou shalt be master, Tranio, in my flead;
Keep house, and

port *, and servants, as I should.
I will some other be, fome Florentine,
Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pifa.
'Tis hatch'd, and shall be so. Tranio, at once
Uncafe thee: take my colour'd hat and cloak.
When Biondello comes, he waits on thee;
But I will charın him first to keep his tonguc.

Tra. So had you need. [They exchange rabits,
In brief, good Šir, fith it your pleasure is,
And I am tied to be obedient,
For fo your father charg’d me at our parting;
(Be serviceable to my ton, quoth he),
Altho', I think, 'twas in another sense;
I am content to be Lucentio,
Because so well I love Lucentio.

Luc. Tranio, be lo, because Lucentio loves;
And let me be a flave, ťatchieve that maid
Whole fudden sight hath thralld my wounded eye.

Enter Biondello.
Here comes the rogue. Sirrah, where have you
been?

Bion. Where have I been? nay, how now, where are you? Master, has my fellow Tranio stolien your cloaths, or you stollen his, or both ? pray, what's the news?

Luc. Sirrah, come hither: 'tis no tiine to jest;
And therefore frame your marners to the time.
Your fellow Tranio, here, to save my life,
Puts my apparel and my countnance on,
And I, for my escape, have put on his :
For in a quarrel, since I came ashore,
I killd a man, and fear I am defcrid.
Wait you on him, I charge yoii, as becomes ;
While I make way from hence to save my life.
You understand me?

Bion. Ay, Sir, ne'er a whit.

* Port is figure, Mhow, appearance. Vol. III.