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And makes a God of fuch a cullion;
Know, Sir, that I am call'd Hortenfio.
Tra. Signior Hortenfio, I have often heard
Of your entire affection to Bianca;

And fince mine eyes are witness of her lightness,
I will with you, if you be fo contented,

Forfwear Bianca and her love for ever.

Hor. See, how they kifs and court!- -Signior Lucentio,

Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow

Never to woo her more; but do forfwear her,
As one unworthy all the former favours,
That I have fondly flatter'd her withal.

Tra. And here I take the like unfeigned oath,
Never to marry her, tho' fhe intreat.

Fie on her! fee, how beaftly fhe doth court him. Hor. 'Would all the World, but he, had quite forfworn her!

For me, that I may furely keep mine oath,
I will be married to a wealthy widow,

Ere three days pafs, which has as long lov'd me,
As I have lov'd this proud difdainful haggard.
And fo farewel, Signior Lucentio.

Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks,
Shall win my love: and fo I take my leave,
In refolution as I fwore before.

[Exit Hor. Tra. Miftrefs Bianca, blefs you with fuch grace,

As longeth to a lover's bleffed cafe :

Nay, I have ta'en you napping, gentle Love,

And have forfworn you with Hortenfio.

[Lucentio and Bianca come forward.

Bian. Tranio, you jeft: but have you both forfworn me?

Tra. Miftrefs, we have.

Luc. Then we are rid of Licio.

Tra. I'faith, he'll have a lufty widow now, That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day.

Bian. God give him joy!

Tra. Ay, and he'll tame her.

Bian. He fays fo, Tranio.

Tra. 'Faith, he's gone into the Taming school. Bian. The Taming fchool? what, is there fuch a place?

Tra. Ay, miftrefs, and Petruchio is the master; That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long,

To tame a Shrew, and charm her chattering tongue.

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Bion. Oh master, master, I have watch'd so long, That I'm dog-weary; but at last I spied

An ancient (a) Engle, going down the hill,

Will ferve the turn.

Tra. What is he, Biondello?

Bion. Master, a mercantant, or else a pedant ;
I know not what; but formal in apparel;
In gate and countenance 5 furely like a father.
Luc. And what of him, Tranio?

Tra. If he be credulous, and truft my tale,
I'll make him glad to seem Vincentio,
And give him affurance to Baptifta Minola,
As if he were the right Vincentio:

Take in your love, and then let me alone.

[Exeunt Luc. and Bian.

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Tra. And you,

Sir.

Sir; you are welcome:

Travel you far on, or are you at the fartheft?

5 Surely like a father.] I know not what he is, fays the fpeaker, however this is certain, he has the gate and countenance of a fatherly man.

[(a) Engle. Mr. Theobald. Vulg. Angel. ]

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Ped. Sir, at the fartheft for a week or two:
But then up farther, and as far as Rome;
And fo to Tripoly, if God lend me life.
Tra. What countryman, I pray!
Ped. Of Mantua.

Tra. Of Mantua, Sir? God forbid!
And come to Padua, careless of your Life?

Ped. My life, Sir! how, I pray? for that goes hard.
Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua

To come to Padua; know you not the caufe?
Your fhips are ftaid at Venice, and the Duke,
(For private quarrel 'twixt your Duke and him,)
Hath publifh'd and proclaim'd it openly:
'Tis marvel, but that you're but newly come,
You might have heard it elfe proclaim'd about.
Ped. Alas, Sir; it is worfe for me than fo;
For I have bills for mony by exchange
From Florence, and muft here deliver them.
Tra. Well, Sir, to do you courtefie,
This will I do, and this will I advise you;
First, tell me, have you ever been at Pisa?
Ped. Ay, Sir, in Pisa have I often been;
Pifa, renowned for grave citizens.

Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio ? Ped. I know him not, but I have heard of him; A merchant of incomparable wealth.

Tra, He is my father, Sir; and, footh to fay, In count'nance fomewhat doth refemble you.

Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyfter, and all

one.

[Afide.

Tra. To fave your life in this extremity,
This favour will I do you for his fake;
And think it not the worst of all your fortunes,
That you are like to Sir Vincentio :

His name and credit fhall you undertake,
And in my houfe you fhall be friendly lodg'd:
Look, that you take upon You as you should.
You understand me, Sir: fo fhall you stay,

'Till you have done your bufinefs in the city. If this be court'fie, Sir, accept of it.

Ped. Oh, Sir, I do; and will repute you ever The Patron of my life and liberty.

Tra. Then go with me to make the matter good: This by the way I let you understand, My father is here look'd for every day, To pafs affurance of a dower in marriage 'Twixt me and one Baptifta's daughter here: In all these Circumftances I'll inftruct you: Go with Me, Sir, to cloath you as becomes you.

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[Exeunt.

Gru. No, no, forfooth, I dare not for my life.
Cath. The more my wrong, the more his fpite

appears:

What, did he marry me to famish me?
Beggars, that come unto my father's door,
Upon intreaty, have a prefent alms;
If not, elsewhere they meet with charity:
But I, who never knew how to intreat,
Nor never needed that I fhould intreat,

Am ftarv'd for meat, giddy for lack of fleep;
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed;
And that, which fpites me more than all thele wants,
He does it under name of perfect love:

As who would fay, if 1 fhould fleep or eat
'Twere deadly fickness, or else present death :
I pr'ythee go, and get me fome repaft;

I care not what, fo it be wholesome food.
Gru. What fay you to a neat's foot?

Cath. 'Tis paffing good; I pr'ythee, let me have it.
Gru. I fear, it is too flegmatick a meat:
How fay you to a fat tripe finely broil'd?

Gg 4

Cath

Cath. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me. Gru. I cannot tell;-I fear, it's cholerick: What say you to a piece of beef and muftard? Cath. A difh, that I do love to feed upon. Gru. Ay, but the muftard is too hot a little. Cath. Why, then the beef, and let the mustard reft.

Gru. Nay, then I will not; you fhall have the mustard,

Or else you get no beef of Grumio.

Cath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt. Gru. Why, then the muftard without the beef. Cath. Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding flave, [Beats him. That feed'ft me with the very name of meat : Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you, That triumph thus upon my mifery! Go, get thee gone, I say.

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Enter Petruchio and Hortenfio, with meat.

Pet. How fares my Kate? what, Sweeting, all

amort ?

Hor. Miftrefs, what cheer?

Cath. 'Faith, as cold as can be,

Pet. Pluck up thy fpirits; look cheerfully upon me; Here, love, thou feeft how diligent I am,

To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee:
I'm fure, fweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.
What, not a word? nay then, thou lov'ft it not:
And all my pains is forted to no proof,

Here, take away the dish.

Cath. I pray you, let it ftand.

Pet. The pooreft service is repaid with thanks, And fo fhall mine, before you touch the meat. Cath. I thank you, Sir.

Hor.

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