ACT III.

SCENE L

Baptifta's House.

Enter Lucentio, Hortenfio, and Bianca.

Lucentio.

Idler, forbear; you grow too forward, Sir:
Have you fo foon forgot the entertainment
Her fifter Catharine welcom'd you withal?
Hor. Wrangling pedant, this is

The patronefs of heavenly harmony:
Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in mufic we have ipent an hour,
Your lecture fhall have leifure for as much.

Luc. Prepofterous afs! that never read fo far
To know the caufe why mufic was ordain'd:
Was it not to refresh the mind of man
After his ftudies, or his ufual pain?
Then give me leave to read philofophy;
And, while I paufe, ferve in your harmony.

Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.
Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong,
To ftrive for that which refteth in my choice:
I am no breeching fcholar in the fchools;
I'll not be tied to hours, nor 'pointed times,
But learn my leflons as I please myself;
And to cut off all ftrife, here fit we down,
Take you your inftrument, play you the while;
His lecture will be done, ere you have tun'd.
Hor. You'll leave his lecture, when I am in tune?
[Hortenfio retires.

Luc. That will be never; tune your inftrument. Bian. Where left we laft?

Luc. Here, Madam: Hac ibat Simois, hic eft Sigeia tellus,

Hic fteterat Priami regia celfa fenis.

Bian. Conftrue them.

Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio, hic eft, fon unto Lucentio of Pila,

Sigeia tellus, difguifed thus to get your love, hic
fteterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing,
Priami, is my man Tranio, regia, bearing my port,
celfa fenis, that we might beguile the old Panta-
loon t.

Hor. Madam, my inftrument's in tune. [Returning.
Bian. Let's hear. O fy, the treble jars.

Luc. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.

Bian. Now let me fee if I can conftrue it: Hac ibat Simois, I know you not, hic eft Sigeia tellus, I truft you not, hic fteterat Priami, take heed he hear us not, regia, prefume not, celfa fenis, despair not.

Hor. Madam, 'tis now in tune.

Luc. All but the base.

Hor. The bafe is right, 'tis the bafe knave that jars.
How fiery and how froward is our pedant!
Now, for my life, that knave doth court my love;
Pedafcule, I'll watch you better yet.

Bian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.
Luc. Miftruft it not,-for, fure, Æacides
Was Ajax, call'd fo from his grandfather.
Bian. I must believe my mafter; elfe, I promife you,
I fhould be arguing still upon that doubt;
But let it reft. Now, Licio, to you:
Good mafters, take it not unkindly, pray,
That I have been thus pleasant with you both.
Hor. You may go walk, and give me leave a while;

My leffons make no mufic in three parts.

Luc. Are you fo formal, Sir? Well, I must wait,
And watch withal; for, but I be deceived,
Our fine musician groweth amorous.

[Afide.
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 paft my Gamut long ago.

Pantaloon, the old cully in Italian farces.

1

Hor. Yet read the Gamut of Hortenfio.

Bian. reading.] Gamut I am, the ground of all accord,

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

C faut, that loves with all affection;
D fol re, one cliff, but two notes have I.
E la mi, fhow pity, or I die.

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

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Miftrefs, your father prays you leave your books,

And help to dress your fifter's chamber up.
You know to-morrow is the wedding-day.

Bian. Farewell, fweet mafters both: I must be

gone.

[Exit.

Luc. Faith, Mistress, then I have no cause to stay.

[Exit.

Hor. But I have caufe to pry into this pedant. Methinks he looks as tho' he was in love: Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be fo humble, To caft thy wand'ring eyes on every stale; Seize thee, who lift; if once I find thee ranging, Hortenfio will be quit with thee by changing. [Exit.

SCENE II.

Enter Baptifta, Gremio, Tranio, Catharina,
Lucentio, Bianca, and attendants.

Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed day That Cathrine and Petruchio fhould be married; And yet we hear not of our fon-in-law.

What will be faid? what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom, when the priest attends
To fpeak the ceremonial rites of marriage?
What fays Lucentio to this fhame of ours?

Cath. No fhame but mine; I muft, forfooth, be forc'd

To give my hand oppos'd against my heart,

Unto a mad-brain Rudefby, full of spleen,

Who woo'd in hafte, and means to wed at leifure.
I told you, I, he was a frantic fool,

Hiding his bitter jefts 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 banns;
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
Now muft the world point, at poor Catharine,
And fay, lo! there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her.
Tra. Patience, good Catharine, and Baptifta too:
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
Whatever fortune itays him from his word.
Tho' he be blunt, I know him paffing wife;
Tho' he be merry, yet withal he's honeft.
Cath. Would Catharine had never feen him tho' !
[Exit weeping.
Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep;
For fuch an injury would vex a faint,

Much more a fhrew of thy impatient humour.

Bion. Mafter, mafter; old news, and fuch 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 ftands where I am, and fees

there.

Tra. But, fay, what thine old news?

you

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-cafes, one buckled, another lac'd: an old rufty fword ta'en VOL. III.

S

out of the town-armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless, with two broken points *; his horfe hipp'd with an old mothy faddle, the stirrups of no kindred; befides, pofleft with the glanders, and like to mofe in the chine, troubled with the lampafle, infected with the fashions +, full of windgalls, iped with fpavins, raied with the yellows, paft cure of the fives, ftark fpoiled with the ftaggers, begnawn with the bots, d in the back, and fhoulder-fhotten, near leggia before, and with a half check'd bit, and a headstall of theep's leather, which being reftrain'd, to keep him from ftumbling, hath been often burft, and now repair'd with knots; one girt fix times piec'd, and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her name, fairly iet 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 linen stock on one leg, and a kersey boot-hofe on the other, garter'd with a red and blue lift, an old hat, and the humour of forty fancies prick'd up in't for a feather: a monfter, a very monfter in apparel, and not like a Chriftian footboy, or a gentleman's lackey. Tra. 'Tis fome odd humour pricks him to this fashion;

Yet fometimes he goes but mean apparell'd.
Bap. I am glad he is come,

howfoever he comes.

Bion. Why, Sir, he comes not.

Bap. Didit thou not fay he comes?

Bion. Who? that Petruchio came not.

Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came.

Bion. No, Sir; I fay his horfe comes with him on his back.

* How a fword should have two broken points I cannot tell. There is, I think, a tranfpofition caufed by the feeming relation of point to word. I read, a pair of boots, one buckled, another laced with two broken ponts; an old rufty word with a broken hilt, and chapeless. Johnion. tie. The farcy.