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Near twenty years ago in Genoa,
Where we were lodgers, at the Pegasus.

Tra. 'Tis well, and hold your own in any case
With such austerity 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 halt thou done thy errand to Baptista?

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 Baptita; set your countenance, Sir.


Enter Baptista and Lucentio.
Tra. Signior Baptista, you are happily met:
Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of;
I pray you stand, good Father, to me now,
Give me Bianca for my patrimony.
Ped. Soft, son, Sir, by your leave, having come

to Padua
To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio
Made me acquainted with a weighty cause
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 she to him; to stay 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 some agreement,
Me shall you find most ready and most willing

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With one consent to have her so bestowed:
For curious I cannot be with you,
Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well,

Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I have to say:
Your plainness and your shortness please me well.
Right true it is, your son Lucentio here
Doth love my daughter, and she lovech him,
Or both difsemble deeply their affections ;
And therefore if you say no more than this,
That like a father you will deal with him,
And pass my daughter a sufficient dowry,
The match is made, and all is done,
Your son shall have my daughter with consent.
Tra. I thank you, Sir. Where then do you

Be we affied; and such assurance ta’en,
As shall with either part's agreement stand?

Bap. Not in my house, Lucentio ; for, you know,
Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants;
Besides, old Gremio is hearkning still;
And, haply, then we might be interrupted.

Tra. Then at my lodging, an it, like you, Sir,
There doth my Father lye; and there this night
We'll pass the business privately and well:
Send for your daughter by your servant here,
My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently.
The worst is this, that at so Nender warning
You're like to have a thin and sender pittance.

Bap. It likes me well. Go, Cambio, hie
And bid Bianca make her ready straight:
And if you will, tell what hath happen'd here:
Lucentio's father is arriv’d in Padua,
And how she'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?


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Welcome! one mess is like to be


cheer. Come, Sir, we will better it in Pisa. Bap. I'll follow you.




Enter Lucentio and Biondello. Bion. Cambio. Luc. What say'st thou, Biondello ? Bion. You saw my master 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 signs and tokens.

Luc. I pray thee, moralize them.

Bion. Then thus. Baptista is safe, 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 supper.

Luc. And then ?

Bion. The old Priest 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 busied about a counterfeit affurance; take you assurance of her, Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solùm; to th' Church take the Priest, Clark, and some fufficient honest witnesses: If this be not that you look for, I have no more to say, but bid Bianca farewel for ever and a day.

Luc. Hear'st thou, Biondello?

Bion. I cannot tarry; I knew a wench married in an afternoon as she went to the garden for parsly to stuff a rabbet; and fo may you, Sir, and so, adieu, Sir; my Master hath appointed me to go to St. Luke's, to bid the Priest be ready to come against you come with your Appendix.



Luc. I may and will, if she be so contented :
She will be pleas'd, then wherefore should I doubt?
Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her:
It shall go hard, if Cambio go without her. [Exit.

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Enter Petruchio, Catharina, and Hortensio. Pet. COME on, o'God's name, once more tow'rds .


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

Pet. I say, it is the Moon that shines so bright.
Cath. I know it is the Sun chat shines fo bright.

Pet. Now by my mother's son, and that's my self,
It shall 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 crost!

Hor. Say, as he lays, or we shall never go.
Cath. Forward I pray, since we are come so 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 shall be so for me.

Pet. I say, it is the Moon.
Cath. I know, it is the Moon,
Pet. Nay, then you lye; it is the blessed Sun.

Cath. Then, God be blest, it is the bleffed Sun,
But Sun it is not, when you say it is not ;
And the Moon changes, even as your mind.
What you will have it nam'd, even that it is,
And so it shall be fo for Catharine.

Hor. Petrusbio, go thy way, the field is won.
Vol. II.



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Per. Well, forward, forward, thus the bowl should

run ;

And not unluckily against the bias :
But soft, some company is coming here.




Enter Vincentio.

Good-morrow, gentle mistress, where away?

[To Vincentio. Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, Hast thou beheld a fresher Gentlewoman? Such war of white and red within her cheeks! What stars do spangle heaven with such 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. Hor. He will make the man mad, to make a

woman of him. Cath. Young budding Virgin, fair, and fresh, and

sweet, Whither away, or where is thy aboad? Happy the parents of so fair a child; Happier the man, whom favourable stars Allot thee for his lovely bedfellow! Pet. Why, how now, Kate, I hope, thou art not

mad! This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, withered, And not a maiden, as, thou say'st he is.

Cath. Pardon, old Father, my mistaken eyes ; That have been so bedazled with the sun, That every thing I look on seemeth green. Now I perceive, thou art a reverend Father: Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking Pet. Do, good old Grandfire, and withal make known

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