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SCENE I.--A Room in BAPTISTA's House. Enter Lucen

TIO, HORTENSIO, and Bianca.

FIDDLER, forbear; you grow too forward, sir :
Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
Her sister Katharine welcom'd you withal ?

Hor. But, wrangling pedant, this is
The patroness of heavenly harmony :
Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in music we have spent an hour,
Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.

Luc. Preposterous ass ! that never read so far
To know the cause why music was ordain'd!
Was it not, to refresh the mind of man,
After his studies, or his usual pain ?
Then give me leave to read philosophy,
And, while I pause, serve in your harmony.

Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine,

Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong,
To strive for that which resteth in my

choice :
I am no breeching scholar in the schools ;
I'll not be tied to hours, nor 'pointed times,
But learn my lessons as I please myself.
And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down :-
Take you your instrument, play you the whiles ;
His lecture will be done, ere you have tun'd.
Hor. You'll leaye his lecture when I am in tune ?

*[TO BIANCA.-HORTENSIO retires Luc. That will be never ;-tune your

instrument. Bian. Where left we last?

Luc. Here, Madam :-
Hac ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus ;
Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis. :

Bian. Construe them.

Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before, --Simois, I am Lucentio,-hic est, son unto Vincentio of Pisa, Sigeia tel. lus, disguised thus to get your love ;-Hic steterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing,-Priami, is my man Tranio,-regia, bearing my port,-celsa senis, that we might beguile the old pantaloon.'

[A] The old cully in Italian farces. JOHNSON,

Hor. Madam, my instrument's in tune. [Returning Bian. Let's hear;

[HORTENSIO plays. O fye! the treble jars.

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

Bian. Now let me see if I can construe it: Hac ibat Simois, I know you not ;-hic est Sigeia tellus, I trust you not;-Hic steterat Priami, take heed he hear us not ; regia, presume not ;-celsa senis, despair not. Hor. Madam, 'tis now in tune. Luc. All but the base.

Hor. The base is right; 'tis the base knave that jars. How fiery and forward our pédant is ! Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love : Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet.

Bian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. .

Luc. Mistrust it not ; for, sure, Æacides Was Ajax,-call'd so from his grandfather.

Bian. I must believe my master; else, I promise you, I should be arguing still upon that doubt : But let it rest.-Now, Licio, to you :Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray, That I have been thus pleasant with you

both. Hor. You may go walk, [To Lucentio.] and give me

leave a while;
My lessons make no music in three parts.

Luc. Are you so formal, sir ? well, I must wait,
And watch withal ; for, but I be deceiv’d,
Our fine musician groweth amorous,

[ Aside.
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 sort,
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 past my gamut long ago.
Hor. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.
Bian. [Reads.] Gamut I am, the ground of all accord,

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

C faut, that loves with all affection :
D sol re, one cliff, two notes have l;

E la mi, show pity, or I die.
Call you this-gamut? tut! I like it not:

Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice,
To change true rules for odd inventions.

Enter a Servant.
Ser. Mistress, your father prays you leave your books,
And help to dress your sister's chamber up;
You know, to-morrow is the wedding-day.
Bian. Farewell, sweet masters, both ; I must be gone.

(Exe. Bianca and Servant. Luc. Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. [Exit,

Hor. But I have cause to pry into this pedant;
Methinks, he looks as though he were in love :
Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble,
To cast thy wand'ring eyes on every stale,
Seize thee, that list: If once I find thee ranging,
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing:

[Exit. SCENE II. The same. Before Baptista's House. Enter BAPTISTA,

Bep. Signior Lucentio, [TO TRANIO.) this is the 'point-

ed day

That Katharine and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we hear not of our son-in-law :
What will be said ? what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom, when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage ?

Lucentio to this shame of ours ?
Kath. No shame but mine : I must, forsooth, be forc'd
To give my hand, oppos'd against my heart,
Unto a mad-brain'd rudesby, full of spleen ;'
Who woo'd in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
I told you, I, he was a frantic fool,
Hiding his bitter jests 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 must the world point at poor Katharine,
And say,-Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her

Tra. Patience, good Katharine, and Baptista too; Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,

[5] That is, full of humour, caprice and inconstancy JOHNSON.

Whatever fortune stays him from his word :
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise ;
Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.
Kath. 'Would Katharine had never seen him though!

[Exit, weeping, followed by Bianca, and others.
Bap. Go, girl ; I cannot blame thee now to weep;
For such an injury would vex a saint,
Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.

Bion. Master, master! news, old news,

and such 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 stands where I am, and sees you there.
Tra. But, say, what:-To thine old news.

Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new hat, and an old jerkin ; a pair of old breeches, thrice turned; a pair of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled, another laced ; an old rusty sword ta'en out of the town-armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless; with two broken points : His horse hipped with an old mothy saddle, the stirrups of no kindred : besides, possessed with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine ; troubled with the lampass, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls, sped with spavins, raied with the yellows, past cure of the fives," stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the bots; swayed in the back, and shouldershotten ; near-legged before, and with a half-checked bit, and a head-stall of sheep's leather; which, being restrained to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repaired with knots: one girt six times pieced, and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath & on

The broken points might be the two broken tags to the laces. TOLLET. farriery, farcens, or farcy.--Fives. So called in the west : vives elsewhere, and avives by the French; a distemper in horses, little differing from the strangles.

GREY. [8] i. e. founder'd in his fore-feet; having as the jockies term it, never a fore leg to stand on.


two letters for her name, fairly set down in studs, and here and there pieced with packthread.

Bap. Who comes with him?

Bion. O, sir, his lackey, for all the world caparisoned like the horse ; with a linen stock on one leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, gartered with a red and blue list; an old hat, and The humour of forty fancies pricked in't for a feather : a monster, a very monster in apparel ; and not like a christian foot-boy, or a gentleman's lackey.

Tra. 'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion ; -Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell’d.

Bap. I am glad he is come, howsoe'er he comes.
Bion. Why, sir, he comes not.
Bap. Didst thou not say, he comes ?
Blon. Who ? that Petruchio came ?
Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came.

Bion. No, sir; I say, his horse comes with him on his back.

Bap. Why, that's all one.

Bion. Nay, by saint Jamy, I hold you a penny, A horse and a man is more than one, and yet not many.

Enter Petruchio and GRUMIO. Pet. Come, where be these gallants? who is at home? Bap. You are welcome, sir. Pet. And yet I come not well. Bap. And yet you halt not.

Tra. Not so well apparell'd
As I wish you were.

Pet. Were it better I should rush in thus.
But where is Kate? where is my lovely bride ?--
How does my father?--Gentles, methinks you frown:
And wherefore gaze this goodly company ;.
As if they saw some wondrous monument,
Some comet, or unusual prodigy ?

Bap. Why, sir, you know this is your wedding-day: [9] This was some ballad or drollery of that time, which the poet here ridicules, by making Petruchio prick it up in his foot-boy's hat for a feather. His speakers are perpetually quoting scraps and stanzas of ballads, and often very obscurely; for so well are they adapted to the occasion, that they seem of a piece with the

In Shakespeare's time, the kingdom was over-run with these doggrel compo

And he seems to have borne them a very particular grudge. He frequently ridicules both them and their makers with excellent humour.

WARBURTON. I have some doubts concerning this interpretation. A fancy appears to have been some ornament worn formerly in the hat. A fancy, however, meant also a love-song, or sonnet, or other poem. MALONE.

rest. sitions.

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