Hor. You'll leave his lecture, when I am in tune ? Luc. That will be never: tune your inftrument. Luc. Here, Madam: Hac ibat Simois; hiç eft Sigeia Hic fteterat Priami regia celfa fenis. Bian. Conftrue them. Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before; Simois, I am Lucentio; hic eft, fon unto Vincentio of Pisa: Sigeia tellus, difguifed thus to get your love; hic fteterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing, Priami, is my man Tranio; regia, bearing my port; celfa fenis, that we might beguile the old pantaloon. Hor. Madam, my inftrument's in tune. [Returning. Bian. Now let me fee if I can conftrue it. Hac ibat Simois, I know you not; hic eft Sigeia tellus, I truft you not; hic fteterat Priami, take heed he hear us not; regia, prefume not; celfa fenis, despair not. Hor. Madam, 'tis now in tune. Luc. All but the base. Hor. The bafe 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 Pedafcale*, I'll watch you better yet. Bian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. Luc. Miftruft it not ;-for, fure, acides Was Ajax, call'd fo from his grandfather. love; Bian. I muft believe my mafter, elfe I promise you, I fhould be arguing ftill upon that doubt; But let it reft. Now, Licio, to you: Good mafters, take it not unkindly, pray, That I have been thus pleasant with you both. Hor. You may go walk, and give me leave a while; My leffons make no mufic in three parts. Luc. Are you fo formal, Sir? well, I muft wait, And watch withal; for, but I be deceiv'd, Our fine musician groweth amorous. *He would have faid didafcale; but thinking this too honou rable, he coins the word pedafcale in imitation of it, from pedant. Hor. Madam, before you touch the inftrument, Bian. Why, I am pafs'd my gamut-long ago. Bian. [reading.] Gamut I am, the ground of all ac- Bmi, Bianca, take him for thy lord; D fol re, one cliff, but two notes have I; Call you this gamut ? tut, I like it not: Old fashions please me beft; I'm not so nice To change true rules for new inventions. Enter a Servant. [cord; Serv. Miftrefs, your father prays you leave your books, And help to dress your fifter's chamber up; Bian. Farewel, fweet mafters, both; I muft be gone. [Exit. Luc. 'Faith, miftrefs, then I have no caufe to ftay. Hor. But I have caufe to pry into this pedant; [Exit. [Exit. Enter Baptifta, Gremio, Tranio, Catharina, Lucentio, Bianca, and attendants. Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed day That Cath'rine and Petruchio should be married; And yet we hear not of our fon-in-law. What will be faid? what mockery will it be, What fays Lucentio to this fhame of ours! Cath. No fhame, but mine; I muft, forfooth, be forc'd To give my hand oppos'd against my heart, He'll woo a thoufand, 'point the day of marriage, Tra. Patience, good Catharine, and Baptifta too; Cath. Would Catharine had never feen him tho' ! [Exit weeping. Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep; For fuch an injury would vex a faint, Much more a threw of thy impatient humour. SCENE III. Enter Biondello. Bion. Mafter, mafter; old news, and fuch 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, no, Sir. Bap. What then? Bion. He is coming. Bap. When will he be here? Bion. When he ftands where I am, and fees you there. Tra. But, fay, what to thine old news? 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-cafes, one buckled, another lac'd; an old rufty fword ta'en out of the town-armoury, with a broken hilt, and chapeless, ' with two broken points; his horfe hipp'd with an old mothy faddle, the ftirrups of no kindred; befides poffefs'd with the glanders, and like to mofe in the chine, troubled with the lampaffe, infected with the fashions, 'full of windgalls, fped with fpavins, raied with the yellows, paft cure of the fives, ftark fpoiled with the ftaggers, begnawn with the bots, waid in the back and fhoulder-fhotten, near legg'd before, and with a half-check'd bit, and a headftall of sheep's leather; which being reftrain'd, to keep him from ftumbling, hath been often burft, 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 fet down in ftuds, and here and there piec'd with pack-thread.' Bap. Who comes with him? Bion. Oh, Sir, his lackey, for all the world caparifon'd like the horse, with a linen ftock on one leg, and a kerfey boot-hofe on the other, garter'd with a 'red and blue lift, an old hat, and the humour of forty fancies prick'd up in 't for a feather: a monster, a very monfter in apparel, and not like a Christian footboy, or a gentleman's lackey.' Tra. 'Tis fome odd humour pricks him to this faYet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell'd. [shion; Bap. I am glad he's come, how foever he comes. Bion. Why, Sir, he comes not. Bap. Didft thou not fay, he comes? Bion. Who? that Petruchio came not? Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came. Bion. No, Sir; I fay, 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 horfe and a man is more than one, and yet not many. Enter Petruchio and Grumió fantastically habited. Pet. Come, where be thefe gallants? who is at home? Bap. You're welcome, Sir. Pet. And yet I come not well. Bap. And yet you halt not. Tra. Not fo well 'parell'd as I wish you were. Pet. Were it better, I fhould rush in thus. As if they faw fome wondrous monument, Bap. Why, Sir, you know, this is your wedding-day : Fie, doff this habit, fhame to your eftate, Tra. And tell us what occafion of import Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear : But, where is Kate? I ftay too long from her; Go to my chamber, put on cloaths of mine. Pet. Not I; believe me, thus I'll visit her. Pet. Good footh, even thus; therefore ha' done with words; To me fhe's married, not unto my cloaths: |