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GRE. Amen, say we: we will be witnesses.

ACT II
Sc. I

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Pet. Father, and Wife, and Gentlemen, adieu ;

I will to Venice; Sunday comes apace :
We will have rings, and things, and fine array;
And kiss me, Kate ; we will be married o' Sunday.

[Exeunt PETRUCHIO and KATHARINA severally.
GRE. Was ever match clapp'd up so suddenly ?
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 seas. BAP. The gain I seek is quiet in the match. GRE. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch.

But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter.
Now is the day we long have looked for:

I am your neighbour, and was suitor first.
TRA. And I am one that love Bianca more

Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.
GRE. Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I.
TRA. Graybeard, thy love doth freeze.
GRE.

But thine doth fry.
Skipper,' stand back: 'tis age that nourisheth.
TRA. But youth in ladies' eyes that flourisheth.
Bap. Content you, Gentlemen: I will compound this strife:
,

:
'Tis deeds must win the prize; and he, of both,
That can assure my daughter greatest dower,
Shall have Bianca's love. And first to you:

Say, Signior Gremio, what can you assure her?
GRE. First, as you know, my house within the City

Is richly furnished with plate and gold;
Basins and ewers, to lave her dainty hands;
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry;
In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns;
In cypress chests my arras-counterpoints,
Costly apparel, tents, and canopies,
Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl,
Valance of Venice gold in needlework ;
Pewter and brass, and all things that belong
To house or housekeeping: then, at my farm

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I Trifer.

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ACT II
Sc. I

stalls;

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I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Sixscore fat oxen standing in my
And all things answerable to this portion.
Myself am struck in years, I must confess;
And, if I die to-morrow, this is her's,

If whilst I live she will be only mine.
TRA. That only came well in. Sir, list to me:

I am my father's heir and only son:
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
I 'll leave her houses three or four as good,
Within rich Pisa's walls, as any one
Old Signior Gremio has in Padua;
Besides two thousand ducats by the year
Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure.

What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio ?
GRE. Two thousand ducats by the year of land ! !

My land amounts not to so much in all :
That she shall have; besides an argosy
That now is lying in Marseilles' road.

What, have I chok'd you with an argosy?
Tra. Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less
TRA

Than three great argosies; besides two galliases'
And twelve tight galleys: these I will assure her,

And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next.
GRE. Nay; I have offer'd all, I have no more,

And she 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

By your firm promise: Gremio is out-vied.
BAP. I must confess your offer is the best;

And, let your father make her the assurance,
She is your own; else, you must pardon me,

If you should die before him, where 's her dower ?
TRA. That's but a cavil: he is old, I young.
GRE. And may not young men die, as well as old ?
Bap. Well, Gentlemen,

I am thus resolv'd: on Sunday next you know
My daughter Katharine is to be married :
Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca
Be bride to you, if you make this assurance;

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ACT II
Sc. I

If not, to Signior Gremio:
And so, I take my leave, and thank

you

both. Gre. Adieu, good Neighbour.

(Exit BAPTISTA.

Now I fear thee not:
Sirrah young Gamester, your father were a fool
To give thee all, and in his waning age
Set foot under thy table: tut, a toy!

An old Italian fox is not so kind, my Boy. (exit.
TRA. A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide!

Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten."
"Tis in my head to do my master good :
I see no reason but suppos'd Lucentio
Must get a father, call’d suppos'd Vincentio ;
And that's a wonder: fathers commonly
Do get their children; but in this case of winning
A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning.

[exit.

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ACT III

SCENE I. Padua. BAPTISTA's House.

Enter LUCENTIO, HORTENSIO, and BIANCA. Luc. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, Sir :

Have you so soon forgot the entertainment

Her sister Katharine welcom'd you withal ?
HOR. Out, wrangling Pedant, this is

The patroness of heavenly harmony !
Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in music we have spent an hour,

Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.
Luc. Preposterous Ass, that never read so far

To know the cause why music was ordain'd !
Was it not to refresh the mind of man
After his studies or his usual pain?
Then give me leave to read philosophy,

And, when I pause, serve in your harmony.
HOR. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.
Bian. Why, Gentlemen, you do me double wrong,
1i.e. ten pips against a picture.

IO

ACT III

Sc. I

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To strive for that which resteth in my choice:
I am no breeching scholar in the schools;
I'll not be tied to hours nor 'pointed times,
But learn my lessons as I please myself.
And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down:
Take you your instrument, 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 ?
Luc. That will be never : tune your instrument .
BIAN. Where left we last?
Luc.

Here, Madam :
(reads.] Hâc ibat Simois ; hic est Sigeia tellus ;

Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.
BIAN.

Construe them.
Luc. Hâc ibat, as I told you before Simois, I am

Lucentio-hic est, son unto Vincentio of Pisa—Sigeia
tellus, disguis'd thus to get your love; Hic steterat,
and that Lucentio that comes a-wooing-Priami, is
my man Tranio-regia, bearing my port.-celsa senis,

that we might beguile the old pantaloon.
HOR. [coming forward.] Madam, my instrument's in

tune.
BIAN.

Let's hear.
O, fie! the treble jars.
Luc.

Spit in the hole, Man,
And tune again.
BIAN. Now let me see if I can construe it:

Hâc ibat Simois, I know you nothic est Sigeia tellus,
I trust you not; Hic steterat Priami, take heed he
hear us not-regia, presume not-celsa senis, despair

not.
HOR. Madam, 'tis now in tune.
Luc.

All but the bass.
Hor. The bass is right; 'tis the base knave that jars.

[aside.] How fiery and how forward is our pedant !
Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love:

Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet.
Bian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.
Luc. Mistrust it not; for, sure, Æacides
Was Ajax, call’d so from his grandfather.

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ACT III

Sc. I

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BIAN. I must believe my master; else, I promise

you,
I should be arguing still upon that doubt:
But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you:
Good Masters, take it not unkindly, pray,
That I have been thus pleasant with you

both. HOR. You may go walk, and give me leave awhile:

My lessons make no music in three parts.
Luc. Are you so formal, Sir ? well, I must wait,

[aside.] And watch withal; for, but I be deceiv'd,

Our fine musician groweth amorous.
HOR. Madam, before you touch the instrument,

To learn the order of my fingering,
I must begin with rudiments of art;
To teach you gamut in a briefer sort,
More pleasant, pithy, and effectual,
Than hath been taught by any of my trade :

And there it is in writing, fairly drawn.
Bian. Why, I am past my gamut long ago.
HOR. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.
BIAN.

Gamut I am, the ground of all accord,

A re, to plead Hortensio's passion ;
B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord,

C fa ut, that loves with all affection:
D sol re, one cliff,' two notes have I:

E la mi, shew pity, or I die.
Call
you

this gamut? tut, I like it not: Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice, To change true rules for odd inventions.

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Enter a Servant.
SERV, Mistress, your father prays you leave your books,

And help to dress your sister's chamber up:

You know to-morrow is the wedding-day.
BIAN. Farewell, sweet Masters both; I must be gone.

[Exeunt BIANCA and Servant. 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 though he were in love:
Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble

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