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125 She hung about my neck, and kiss on kiss She vy'd so fast, protesting oath on oath, That in a twink she won me to her love. Oh, you are novices ; 'tis a world to see, How tame (when men and women are'alone) A meacock wretch can make the curftest shrew. Give me thy hand, Kate, I will unto Venice, To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day; Father, provide the feast, and bid the guests; I will be sure, my Catharine shall be fine.

Bap. I know not what to say, but give your hands; God send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match.

Gre. Tra. Amen, say we; we will be witnesses.

Pet. Father, and wife, and Gentlemen, adieu ;
I will to Venice, Sunday comes apace,
We will have rings and things, and fine array ;
And kiss me; Kate, we will be married o' Sunday.

[Exeunt Petruchio, and Catharine severally.

VI. Gre. А S ever match clapt up so suddenly?.

Bap. Faith, gentlemen, I play a mer


chant's part,

And venture madly on a desperate mart.

Tra. 'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you; 'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the Seas.

Bap. The gain I seek is quiet in the match.

Gre. No doubt, but he hath got a quiet catch:
But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter:
Now is the day we long have looked for:
I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.

Tra. And I am one, that love Bianca more
Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.

Gre. Youngling! thou canst not love so dear as I.
Tra. Grey-beard! thy love doth freeze.

Gre. But thine doth fry.
Skipper, stand back; 'tis age that nourisheth.

Tra. But youth, in ladies' eyes that flourisheth.


Bap. Content you, Gentlemen, I will compound

this strife; 'Tis deeds must win the prize; and he, of Both, That can assure my daughter greatest dower, Shall have Bianca's love. Say, Signior Gremio, what can you assure her ?

Gre. First, as you know, my house within the city
Is richly furnished with plate and gold,
Basons and ewers to lave her dainty hands:
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;
In ivory coffers I have stufft

my crowns;
In cypress chests my arras, counterpanes,
Coftly apparel, tents and canopies,
Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl;
Valance of Venice gold in needle-work:
Pewter and brass, and all things that belong
To house, or house-keeping: then, at my farm,
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls ;
And all things answerable to this portion.
Myself am ftruck in years, I muft confess,
And if I die to-morrow, this is hers;
If, whilft I live, she will be only mine.

Tra. That only came well in-Sir, lift to me;
I am my father's beir, and only fon;
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
I'll leave her houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
Old Signior Gremio has in Padua;
Besides two thousand ducats by the year
Of fruitful land; all which shall be her jointure.
What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio ?

Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year of land!
My land amounts but to fo much in all :
That she shall have, besides an Argosy
That now is lying in Marseilles's road.
What, have I choakt you with an Argosy?
Tra. Gremio, 'tis known, my father has no less


Than three great Argosies, besides' two galliasses
And twelve tight gallies; these I will assure her,
And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next.

Gre. Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more;
And she can have no more than all I have;
If you like me, she shall have me and mine.

Tra. Why, then the maid is mine from all the
By your firm promise ; Gremio is out-vied. (world,

Bap. I must confess, your offer is the best;
And let your father make her the assurance,
She is your own, else you must pardon me;

should die before him, where's her dower?
Tra, That's but a cavil; he is old, I young.
Gre. And may not young men die, as well as old ?

Bap. Well, gentlemen, then I am thus resolv’d:
On Sunday next, you know,
My daughter Catharine is to be married:
Now on the Sunday following shall Bianca
Be bride to you, if you make this assurance;
If not, to Signior Gremio:
And so I take my leave, and thank you both. [Exit.

Gre. Adieu, good neighbour.–Now I fear thee not:
Sirrah, young gamester, your father were a fool
To give thee all; and in his waining age
Set foot under thy table: tut! a toy!
An old Italian fox not so kind, my boy. Exit.

Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide!
* Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten :
'Tis in my head to do my master good:
I see no reason, but suppos'd Lucentio
May get a father, callid, suppos'd Vincentio;
And that's a wonder: fathers commonly
Do get their children; but, in this case of wooing;
A child shall get a fire, if I fail not of my cunning.

[Exit. * Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten :) That is, with the highest Card, in the old simple Games of our Ancestors. So that this bccame a proverbial Expression.

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[The Presenters, above, speak here. Sly. Sim, when will the fool come again? Sim. Anon, my Lord.

Sly. Give's some more drink here--where's the tapster ? here, Sim, eat some of these things.

Sim. So I do, my Lord.
Sly. Here, Sim, I drink to thee.



Baptista's House.

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Enter Lucentio, Hortensio, and Biancą.

LỤCENTIO. IDLER, forbear; you grow too forward, Sir:

Have you so foon forgot the entertainment Her sister Catharine welcom'd


withal ?
Hor. Wrangling Pedant, this is
The patroness of heavenly harmony;
Then give me leave to have prerogative ;
And when in mufic 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 refteth in


choice :
I am no breeching scholar in the schools ;
I'll not be tied to hours, nor 'pointed times,
But learn my leffons as I please myself;
And to cut of all strife, here sit we down,


Take you your instrument, play you the while;
His lecture will be done, ere you have tun'd.
Hor. You'll leave his lecture, when I am in tune ?

[Hortenfio retires. Luc. That will be never: tune your

inftrument. Bian. Where left we last? Luc. Here, Madam: Hac ibat Simois, hic eft Sigeia

tellus, Hic fteterat Priami regia celsa senis.

Bian. Construe them.

Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio, hic eft, son unto Vincentio of Pisa, Sigeia tellus, disguised thus to get your love, hic fteterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing, Priami, is my man Tranio, regia, bearing my port, celfa senis, that we might beguile the old Pantaloon.

Hor. Madam, my instrument's in tune. [Returning,
Bian. Let's hear. 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 fteterat Priani, take heed he hear us not, regia, presume not, celfa fenis, 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 how froward is our Pedant !
Now, for my life, that knave doth court my love;
Pedascale, I'll watch you better yet.

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

Luc. Mistrust it not,-for, sure, Æacides Was Ajax, callid fo from his grandfather.

Bian. I must believe my maiter, 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.

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