« PreviousContinue »
Luc. That will be never;-tune your instrument.
Luc. Here, madam:
Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.
Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before, -Simois, I am Lucentio,-hic est, son unto Vincentio of Pisa,– Sigeia tellus, 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. Hor. Madam, my instrument's in tune.
[Returning. Bian. Let's hear:
[Hortensio plays. O fie! 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.
All but the base.
Bian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.
Was Ajax,—call’d so from his grandfather.
me leave awhile; My lessons make no musick 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.
trade: And there it is in writing, fairly drawn.
Bian. Why, I am past my gamut long ago.
C faut, that loves with all affection: D sol re, one cliff, two notes have I;
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. Sero. 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. Farewel, sweet masters, both; I must be gone.
[Exeunt Bianca and Servant. Luc. 'Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay.
[E.rit. 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.
BEFORE BAPTISTA'S HOUSE,
Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Katharina, Bianca,
Lucentio, and Attendants. Bap. Signior Lucentio, [To Tranio.] this is the
'pointed 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? What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?
Kath. No shame but mine: I must, forsooth, be
forcod To give my hand, oppos'd against my heart, Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spleen; Who woo'd in haste, and means to wed at leisure. I told you, I, he was a frantick 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, 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,
Enter Biondello, 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, 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-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 hip’d with an old mothy saddle, the stirrups of no kindred: 'besides, possess'd with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine; troubled with the lampass, .nfected 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; sway'd in the back, and shouldershotten; ne'er-legg'd before, and with a half-check d bit, and a head-stall of sheep's leather; which, being restrain’d to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repair’d with knots: one girth six times pieced, and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath 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 caparison'd like the horse; with a linen stock on one