Hor. Petruchio, fhall I then come roundly to thee, And with thee to a fhrew'd ill-favour'd wife? Thoud'ft thank me but a little for my counfel, And yet, I'll promife thee, the fhall be rich, And very rich but thou'rt too much my friend, Pet. Signior Hortenfio, 'twixt fuch friends as us She moves me not; or not removes, at least, I come to wive it wealthily in Padua: Gru. Nay, look you, Sir, he tells you flatly what his mind is why, give him gold enough, and marry him to a puppet, or an aglet-baby, or an old Trot with ne'er a tooth in her head, tho' the have as many difeafes as two and fifty horfes; why, nothing comes amiís, fo money comes withal. Hor. Petruchio, fince we are ftept thus far in, I will continue that I broach'd in jeft. I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife With wealth enough, and young and beauteous; And fhrewd, and froward, fo beyond all meafure, I would not wed her for a Mine of gold. Pet. Hortenfio, peace; thou know'it not gold's effect; Tell me her Father's name, and 'tis enough:" For I will board her, tho' fhe chide as loud As thunder, when the clouds in Autumn crack. Hor. Her Father is Baptifta Minola, An affable and courteous Gentleman; Her name is Catharina Minola, Renown'd in Padua for her fcolding tongue. Pet. I know her Father, tho' I know not her; I will not fleep, Hortenfio, 'till I fee her, Gru. I pray you, Sir, let him go while the humour lafts. O' my word, an fhe knew him as well as I do, fhe would think fcolding would do little good upon him. She may, perhaps, call him half a score knaves, or fo: why, that's nothing; an' he begin once, he'll rail in his rope-tricks. I'll tell you what, Sir, an' fhe ftand him but a little, he will throw a figure in her face, and fo disfigure her with it, that the hall have no more eyes to fee withal than a cat: you know him not, Sir. Hor. Tarry, Petruchio, I muft go with thee, For in Baptifta's houfe my Treasure is: He hath the jewel of my life in hold, His youngest Daughter, beautiful Bianca; (7) And her with-holds he from me, and others more (For thofe defects I have before rehears'd,). A title for a maid of all titles the worst! Her. Now fhall my friend Petruchio do me grace, (7) And her ruithholds be from me. Other more Suitors to her, and Rivals in my Love: &c.] The Editors, in this Carelessness of their Pointing, have made fark Nonfenfe of this Paffage. The Regulation, which I have given to the Text, was dictated to me by the ingenious Dr. Thirlby. 1 And And offer me disguis'd in fober robes Enter Gremio, and Lucentio difguis'd. Gru. Here's no knavery! fee, to beguile the old folks, how the young folks lay their heads together. Master, look about you: who goes there? ha! Hor. Peace, Grumio, 'tis the rival of my Petruchio, ftand by a while. love. Gru. A proper ftripling, and an amorous.- Signior Baptifta's liberality, I'll mend it with a largefs. Take your papers too, To whom they go; what will you read to her ? Hor. Grumie, mum! God fave you, Signior Gremio. Gre. And you are well met, Signior Hortenfio. Trow you, whither I am going to Baptifta Minola; I promis'd to enquire carefully about a school-mafter for the fair Bianca; and by good fortune I have lighted well on this young man; for learning and behaviour fit for her turn, well read in Poetry, and other books, good ones, I warrant ye, Hor. Hor. 'Tis well; and I have met a gentleman, my deeds fhall prove. Gre. Belov'd of me,—and that Hor. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love. I'll tell you news indifferent good for either. Hortenfio, have you told him all her faults? Gre. No, fayeft me fo, friend? what countryman ? My father's dead, my fortune lives for me, And I do hope good days and long to fee. Gre. Oh, Sir, fuch a life with fuch a wife were ftrange; But if you have a ftomach, to't, o'God's name : But will you wooe this wild cat? Pet. Will I live? Gru. Will he wooe her? ay, or I'll hang her. Loud larums, neighing feeds, and trumpets clangue ? That gives not half fo great a blow to hear, Tufb, Tufh, tufh, fear boys with bugs. This gentleman is happily arriv'd, My mind prefumes, for his own good, and ours. Gre. And fo we will, provided that he win her. To them Tranio bravely apparell'd, and Biondello. Tra. Gentlemen, God fave you. If I may be bold, tell me, I beseech you, which is the readieft way to the houfe of Signior Baptifta Minola ? Bion. He that has the two fair Daughters; is't he you mean? Tra. Even he, Biondello. Gre. Hark you, Sir, you mean not her, to Tra. Perhaps him and her; what have you to do ? Pet. Not her that chides, Sir, at any hand, I pray. Tra. I love no chiders, Sir: Biondello, let's away. Luc. Well begun, Tranio. Hor. Sir, a word, ere you go: Are you a fuitor to the maid you talk of, yea or no? Gre. No; if without more words you will get you hence. For me, as for you? Gre. But fo is not she. Tra. For what reafon, I befeech you ? To whom my father is not all unknown; |