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Hor. You may go walk, 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, One fine musician groweth amorous.
Hor. Madam before you touch the instrument,
Bian. Why, I am paft my Gamut long ago.
A re, to plead Hortenfio's passion; (accord, B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord,
C faut, that loves with all affection:
Call you this Gamut? tut, I like it not;
Enter a Servant. Sarv. Mistress,
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.
[Exit. 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 tho' he were in love : Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble, To cast thy wandring eyes on every Stale;
Sieze thee, who list; if once I find thee ranging,, Hortenso will be quit with thee by changing. Exit.
Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Catharina, Lucentio,
Bianca, and attendants.
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 frantic fool, Hiding his bitter jefts 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 banes ; Yet never means to wed, where he hath woo'd. Now must the world point at poor Catharine, And say, lo! there is mad Petruchio's wife, If it would please him come and marry her.
Tra. Patience, good Catharine, and Baptista too; Upon my life, Petruchio means but well ; What ever fortune stays him from
his word. Tho' he be blunt, I know him paffing wise: Tho' he be merry, yet withal he's honest. Cath. Would Catharine had never seen him tho'!
[Exit weeping Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep;
For such an injury would vex a Saint,
SC EN E III.
Enter Biondello. Bion. ASTER, Master ; old news, and such
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 lac'd ; 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 pofleft with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine, troubled with the lampasse, 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, waid in the back and fhoulder-shotten, near-legg'd before, and with a half-check’t bit, and a headfall of sheep's leather, which being restrain'd, to keep him from Itumbling, hath been often burst, and now repair'd with knots ; one girt fix times piec'd, and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her name, fairly set down in studs, and here and there piec'd with packthread.
Bap. Who comes with him?
Bion. Oh, Sir, his lackey, for all the world caparison'd like the horse, with a linen stock on one leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, garter'd with a red and blue list, an old hat, and the humour of forty fancies prickt up in't for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparel, and not like a christian footboy, or a gentleman's lackey. Tra. 'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this
Bap. I am glad he's come, howsoever he comes.
Bion. No, Sir; I say, his horse comes with him on his back.
Bap. Why, that's all one.
Bion. Nay, by St. Jamy, I hold you a penny, A horse and a man is more than one, and yet not many.
Pet. Co home?
S G E N E
IV. Enter Petruchio and Grumio fantastically habited.
OME, where be these gallants? who is at
home? Bap. You're welcome, Sir. Pet. And
yet I come not well. Bap. And yet you
halt Tra. Not so well 'parell'd, as I wish you were.
Pet. Were it better, I should rush in thus.
Bap. Why, Sir, you know, this is your wedding
Tra. And tell us what occafion of import
Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to heare Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word, Tho' in some part enforced to digress, Which at more leisure I will so excuse, As shall well be satisfied withal. But, where is Kate? I stay too long from her; The morning wears; 'tis time, we were at church.
Tra. See not your Bride in these unreverent robes ; Go to my chamber, puton clothes of mine.
Pet. Not I; believe me, thus I'll visit her.
Bap. I'll after him and see the event of this. (Exit.
S CE N E v. Tra. B : Her Father's liking; which to bring to pafs,