We will have rings, and things, and fine array;
And kifs me, Kate, we'll marry o'funday.

i

[Exit Petruchio, and Katharine feverally.

Gre. Was ever match clap'd up fo fuddenly?

Bap. Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant'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 feas.
Bap. The gain I feek is quiet in the match,
Gre. No doubt, but he hath got a quiet catch,
But now, Baptifta, to your younger daughter;-
Now is the day we long have looked for ;
I am your neighbour, and was fuitor first.

Tra. And I am one, that love Bianca more
Than words can witnefs, 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, ftand back; 'tis age, that nourisheth.

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

Bap. Content you, gentlemen; I will compound this ftrife:

'Tis deeds, muft win the prize; and he, of both, That can affure my daughter greatest dower,

Shall have Bianca's love.

Say, fignior Gremio, what can you affure her?

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

In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns;
In cypress chefts my arras, 'counterpoints,

Coftly apparel, tents, and canopies,

Fine linen, Turky cufhions" bofs'd with pearl,
Valance of Venice gold in needle-work,
Pewter and brafs, and all things that belong
To house, or houfe-keeping: then, at my farm,
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Sixfcore fat oxen standing in my stalls,
And all things anfwerable to this portion.
Myself am ftruck in years, I must confefs
And, if I die to-morrow, this is hers,
If, whilft I live, fhe will be only mine.

Tra. That, only, came well in-Sir, lift to me;
I am my father's heir, and only fon :
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
I'll leave her houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pifa walls, as any one

Old fignior Gremio has in Padua ;

Befides two thousand ducats by the year

Of fruitful land, all which fhall be her jointure.-
What, have I pinch'd you, fignior Gremio ?

Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year, of land!
My land amounts" but to fo much in all:
That she fhall have; befides an argofy,
That now is lying in Marseilles' road
What, have I choak'd you with an argofy?

Tra. Gremio, 'tis known, my father hath no less
Than three great argofies; befides two galliaffes,
And twelve tight gallies: thefe I will affure her,
And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'ft next.
Gre. Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more;
And the 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 world,

bofs'd]-ftudded

anot.

By

By your firm promife; Gremio is out-vied.
Bap. I must confess, your offer is the best;
And, let your father make her the affurance,
She is your own; elfe, you must pardon me :
you fhould die before him, where's her dower?
Tra. That's but a cavil; he is old, I young.

If

Gre. And may not young men die, as well as old?
Bap. Well, gentlemen,

I am thus refolved:-On funday next, you know,
My daughter Katharine is to be marry'd :
Now, on the funday following, fhall Bianca
Be bride to you, if you make this affurance;
If not, to fignior Gremio:

And so I take my leave, and thank you both. [Exit.
Gre. Adieu, good neighbour.-Now I fear thee not;
Sirrah, young gamefter, 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 is not fo kind, my boy.
Tra. A vengeance on your crafty withered hide!
Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten.
'Tis in my head to do my master good :—
I fee no reason, but fuppos'd Lucentio

Muft

get a father, call'd-fuppos'd Vincentio ; And that's a wonder: fathers, commonly,

Do

get

[Exit.

their children; but, in this case of wooing, A child fhall get a fire, if I fail not of my doing. [Exit.

out-vied.]-out-bidden.

Pa card of ten.]-one of the best in the pack.

a cunning.

ACT

ACT III. SCENE I.

Baptifta's Houfe.

Enter Lucentio, Hortenfio, and Bianca.

Luc. Fidler, forbear; you grow too forward, fir:
Have you so foon forgot the entertainment
Her fifter Katharine welcom'd you withal?
Hor. But, wrangling pedant, this is
The patronefs of heavenly harmony:
Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in mufick we have spent an hour,
Your lecture fhall have leisure for as much.

Luc. Prepofterous afs! that never read fo far
To know the cause why mufick was ordain'd!
Was it not, to refresh the mind of man,
After his ftudies, or his ufual pain?

Then give me leave to read philofophy,

And, while I paufe, ferve 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 my choice:

г

I am no breeching scholar in the schools;
I'll not be ty'd to hours, nor 'pointed times,
But learn my leffons as I please myself.
And, to cut off all strife, here fit we down :-
Take you your inftrument, play you the whiles;
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 instrument.

▾ no breeching Scholar]—not fubject to correction.

Bian. Where left we laft?

Luc. Here, madam :

Hac ibat Simois; hic eft Sigeia tellus ;
Hic fteterat Priami regia celfa fenis.

Bian. Conftrue them.

Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio,-bic eft, fon unto Vincentio of Pifa,-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 fenis, that we might beguile the old ' pantaloon.

Hor. Madam, my inftrument'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 fee if I can conftrue it: Hac ibat Simois, I know you not;-hic eft Sigeia tellus, I trust you not;-Hic fteter at 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 forward our pedant is!

Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love: 'Pedafcule, I'll watch you better yet.

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

Luc. Miftruft it not; for, fure, Æacides

Was Ajax,-call'd fo from his grandfather.

Bian. I must believe my mafter; else, I promise you, I should 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 pleafant with you both.