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Near twenty years ago in Genoa,

Where we were lodgers, at the Pegafus.

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 school'd.

Tra. Fear you not him; firrah, Biondello, Now do your duty throughly, I advise Imagine, 'twere the right Vincentio.

Bion. Tut, fear not me.

you:

Tra. But haft thou done thy errand to Baptifta? 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.

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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 cause
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 stay 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 worse than I, Sir, upon fome agreement,
Me fhall you find most ready and most willing

With one consent to have her so bestowed:
For curious I cannot be with you,

Signior Baptifta, of whom I hear fo well.

Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I have to fay:
Your plainnefs and your fhortnefs please me well.
Right true it is, your fon Lucentio here
Doth love my daughter, and fhe 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 pass 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
beft,

Be we affied; and fuch affurance ta’en,

As fhall with either part's agreement stand?

know

Bap. Not in my houfe, Lucentio; for, you know, Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants; Befides, old Gremio is hearkning ftill;

And, haply, then we might be interrupted.

Tra. Then at my lodging, an it like you, Sir, There doth my Father lye; and there this night We'll pass the business 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 ftraight: 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!

Tra. Dally not, with the Gods, but Signior Baptifta, fhall I lead the way?

[Exit.

get thee

gone

Welcome!

Welcome! one mess is like to be your cheer.
Come, Sir, we will better it in Pifa.

Bap. I'll follow you.

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[Exeunt.

XI.

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 ha'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; expect, they are bufied about a counterfeit affurance; take you affurance of her, Cum privilegio ad imprimendum folùm; to th' Church take the Prieft, Clark, and fome fufficient honest witneffes: If this be not that you look for, I have no more to say, but bid Bianca farewel for ever and a day..

Luc. Hear'ft thou, Biondello?

Bion. I cannot tarry; I knew a wench married in an afternoon as fhe went to the garden for parfly to ftuff a rabbet; and fo 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

Luc. I may and will, if she be so 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.

SCENE XII.

A green Lane.

[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 Sun: it is not Moon-light

now.

Pet. I fay, it is the Moon that fhines fo bright. Cath. I know it is the Sun that fhines fo bright. Pet. Now by my mother's fon, and that's my self, It fhall be Moon, or Star, or what I list, Or ere I journey to your father's house: 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 so far, And be it Moon, or Sun, or what you please: And if you please to call it a rush candle, Henceforth I vow it fhall be so for me. Pet. I fay, it is the Moon.

Cath. I know, it is the Moon.

Pet. Nay, then you lye; it is the bleffed Sun.
Cath. Then, God be bleft, it is the bleffed Sun.
But Sun it is not, when you say it is not;
And the Moon changes, even as your mind.
What you will have it nam'd, even that it is,
And fo it fhall be fo for Catharine.

Hor. Petrusbio, go thy way, the field is won.
VOL. II.

Hh

Pet.

Pet. Well, forward, forward, thus the bowl fhould

run;

And not unluckily against the bias:

But foft, fome company is coming here.

SCENE

Enter Vincentio.

XIII.

Good-morrow, gentle mistress, where away?

[To Vincentio. Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, Haft thou beheld a frefher Gentlewoman? Such war of white and red within her cheeks! What stars do fpangle heaven with fuch beauty, As those two eyes become that heav'nly face? Fair lovely Maid, once more good day to thee: Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's fake.

Hor. He will make the man mad, to make a woman of him.

Cath. Young budding Virgin, fair, and fresh, and
fweet,

Whither away, or where is thy aboad?
Happy the parents of fo fair a child;

Happier the man, whom favourable stars

Allot thee for his lovely bedfellow!

Pet. Why, how now, Kate, I hope, thou art not
mad!

This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, withered,
And not a maiden, as, thou fay'st he is.

Cath. Pardon, old Father, my mistaken eyes;
That have been fo bedazled with the fun,
That every thing I look on feemeth green.
Now I perceive, thou art a reverend Father:
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.
Pet. Do, good old Grandfire, and withal make

known

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