Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do,
You are ftill croffing it; Sirs, let't alone,
I will not go to day, and ere I do,

It fhall be what o'clock I fay it is.

Hor. Why, fo; this Gallant will command the Sun. [Exeunt Pet. Cath. and Hor.

[The Presenters, above, speak here.]

Lord. Who's within there?

Enter Servants.

[Sly Лeeps.

Afleep again! go take him easily up, and put him in his own apparel again. But fee, you wake him not in any cafe. Serv. It shall be done, my Lord; come help to bear him [They bear off Sly.

hence.

Enter Tranío, and the Pedant dreft like Vincentio.

Tra.

SIR, this is the houfe; please it you, that

I call?

Ped. Ay, what else! and (but I be deceived,)
Signior Baptifta may remember me
Near twenty years ago in Genoa,
Where we were lodgers, at the Pegafus.
Tra. 'Tis well, and hold

your own in

any cafe

With fuch aufterity as longeth to a father.

Enter Biondello.

Ped. I warrant you: but, Sir, here comes your boy; 'Twere good, he were school'd.

Tra. Fear you not him; firrah, Biondello, Now do your duty throughly, I advise you: Imagine, 'twere the right Vincentio.

Bion. Tut, fear not me.

Tra. But haft thou done thy crrand to Baptifta?

H 4

Bion.

Bion. I told him, that your father was in Venice; And that you look'd for him this day in Padua. Tra. Th' art a tall fellow, hold thee that to drink; Here comes Baptifta; set your countenance, Sir.

Tra.

I

SIGN

IGNIOR Baptifta, you are happily met: Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of; pray you ftand, good Father, to me now, Give me Bianca for my patrimony.

Ped. Soft, fon, Sir, by your leave, having come to

Padua

To gather in fome debts, my fon Lucentio
Made me acquainted with a weighty caufe
Of love between your daughter and himself:
And for the good report I hear of you,
And for the love he beareth to your daughter,
And fhe to him; to ftay him not too long,
I am content in a good father's care

To have him match'd; and if you please to like
No worse than I, Sir, upon fome agreement,
Me fhall you find moft ready and moft willing
With one confent to have her fo beftowed:
For curious I cannot be with you,
Signior Baptifta, of whom I hear fo well.

Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I have to say: Your plainnefs and your fhortness please me well. Right true it is, your fon Lucentio here

Doth love my daughter, and she loveth him,
Or both diffemble deeply their affections';
And therefore if you fay no more than this,
That like a father you will deal with him,
And pass my daughter a fufficient dowry,
The match is made, and all is done,
Your fon shall have my daughter with consent.

Tra.

Tra. I thank you, Sir. Where then do you know Be we affied; and fuch affurance ta'en, [beft, As fhall with either part's agreement stand?

Bap. Not in my houfe, Lucentio; for, you know, Pitchers have ears, and I have many fervants; Besides, old Gremio is hearkning ftill;

And, haply, then we might be interrupted.
Tra. Then at my lodging, an it like you, Sir,
There doth my Father lie; and there this night
We'll pass the business privately and well:
Send for your daughter by your fervant here,
My boy fhall fetch the fcrivener presently.
The worst is this, that at fo flender warning
You're like to have a thin and flender pittance.

Bap. Itlikes me well. Go, Cambio, hie you home,
And bid Bianca make her ready ftraight:
And if you will, tell what hath happen'd here:
Lucentio's father is arriv'd in Padua,

And how fhe's like to be Lucentio's wife.

Luc. I pray the Gods she may, with all my heart!

[Exit. Tra. Dally not, with the Gods, but get thee gone. Signior Baptifta, shall I lead the way ?

your cheer.

Welcome! one mefs is like to be
Come, Sir, we will better it in Pifa.
Bap. I'll follow you.

SCENE XI.

Enter Lucentio and Biondello.

AMBIO.

Bion. CA

Luc. What fay'ft thou, Biondello?

[Exeunt.

Bion. You faw my mafter wink and laugh upon you. Luc. Biondello, what of that?

Bion. Faith, nothing; But ha's left me here behind to expound the meaning or moral of his figns and tokens.

Luc. I pray thee, moralize them.

Bion. Then thus. Baptifta is fafe, talking with the deceiving father of a deceitful fon,

Luc. And what of him?

Bion. His Daughter is to be brought by you to the fupper.

Luc. And then?

Bion. The old Prieft at St. Luke's Church is at your command at all hours.

Luc. And what of all this?

Bion. I cannot tell; expect, they are bufied about a counterfeit affurance; take you affurance of her, Cum privilegio ad imprimendum folum; to th' Church take the Prieft, Clerk, and fome fufficient honeft witneffes: If this be not that you look for, I have no more to fay, but bid Bianca farewel for ever and a day.

Luc. Hear'ft thou, Biondello?

Bion. I cannot tarry; I knew a wench married in an afternoon as fhe went to the garden for parsley to ftuff a rabbet; and fo may you, Sir, and fo, adieu, Sir; my mafter hath appointed me to go to St. Luke's, to bid the Prieft be ready to come againft you come with your Appendix. [Exit.

Luc. I may and will, if he be fo contented: She will be pleas'd, then wherefore fhould I doubt? Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her: It fhall go hard, if Cambio go without her.

Pet.

[Exit.

Enter Petruchio, Catharina, and Hortenfio..

OME on, o' God's name, once more tow'rds
Our Father's.

COME

Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the Moon! Cath. The Moon! the Sun: it is not Moon-light

now.

Pet.

Pet. I fay, it is the Moon that shines fo bright. Cath. I know it is the Sun that fhines fo bright. Pet. Now by my mother's fon, and that's myself, It fhall be Moon, or Star, or what I lift, Or ere I journey to your father's house : Go on, and fetch our horses back again. Evermore croft and croft, nothing but croft! Hor. Say, as he says, or we fhall never go. Cath. Forward I pray, fince we are come fo far, And be it Moon, or Sun, or what you please: And if you please to call it a rush candle, Henceforth I vow it fhall be fo for me. Pet. I fay, it is the Moon.

Cath. I know, it is the Moon.

Pet. Nay, then you lie; it is the bleffed Sun.
Cath. Then, God be bleft, it is the bleffed Sun.
But Sun it is not, when you fay it is not;
And the Moon changes, even as your mind.
What you will have it nam'd, even that it is,
And fo it fhall be fo for Catharine.

Hor. Petruchio, go thy way, the field is won.
Pet. Well, forward, forward, thus the bowl fhould

And not unluckily against the bias:

But foft, fome company is coming here.

Good-morrow, gentle miftrefs, where away?

[To Vincentio. Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, Haft thou beheld a fresher Gentlewoman? Such war of white and red within her cheeks! What ftars do fpangle heaven with fuch beauty, As those two eyes become that heav'nly face? Fair lovely Maid, once more good day to thee: Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's fake. H 6

Hor.