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 welcomed you withal?
Hor. But, 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 while I pause, serve 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 resteth in my choice:
I am no breeching scholar in the schools;

4. The line is doubtless defective, but cannot be emended with any certainty. Theobald proposed: She is a shrew,

but,' etc.

4. pedant, schoolmaster.

9. Preposterous, here in its

ΤΟ

literal sense, of one who inverts the natural order of things.

9. so far to know, far enough to know.

12. pain, labour.

18. breeching scholar, schoolboy subject to flogging.

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 tuned.

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 :

'Hic ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus ;

Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.'

Bian. Construe them.

Luc. Hic ibat,' as I told you before, 'Simois,' I am Lucentio, hic est,' son unto Vincentio of Pisa, 'Sigeia tellus,' disguised 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. 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 : 'Hic ibat Simois,' I know you not, 'hic 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 base.

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

[Aside] How fiery and forward our pedant is!

28. Hic ibat, etc. From Ovid's Epistolae Heroidum, I (a letter of Penelope to Ulysses).

20

30

40

37. pantaloon, a foolish old

man.

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.

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 a
while :

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 deceived, Our fine musician groweth amorous.

trade :

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
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. [Reads] "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 clef, two notes have I:
'E la mi,' show pity, or I die."

50. Pedascule, pedant (coined apparently as a contemptuous diminutive of this word).

61. formal, precise.

62. but, unless.

73. gamut, the scale.

Cali 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.

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
To cast thy wandering eyes on every stale,
Seize thee that list: if once I find thee ranging,
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing.

[Exit.

SCENE II. Padua. Before BAPTISTA's house.

Enter BAPTISTA, GREMIO, TRANIO, KATHARINA,
BIANCA, LUCENTIO, and others, attendants.
Bap. [To Tranio] Signior Lucentio, this is the
'pointed day.

That Katharine and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we hear not of our son-in-law.

What will be said? what mockery will it be,

To want the bridegroom when the priest attends

80. nice, foolish.

81. odd; this is Theobald's

80

90

almost certain emendation of the old of Ff and Q.

90. stale, bait, alluring figure.

To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage!
What says Lucentio to this shame of ours?
Kath. No shame but mine: I must, forsooth,
be forced

To give my hand opposed against my heart
Unto a mad-brain rudesby full of spleen;

Who woo'd in haste and means to wed at leisure.

I told you, I, he was a frantic fool,

Hiding his bitter jests in blunt behaviour:
And, to be noted for a merry man,

He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of marriage,
Make feasts, invite friends, and proclaim the banns;
Yet never means to wed where he hath woo'd.
Now must the world point at poor Katharine,
And say, 'Lo, there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her!'
Tra. Patience, good Katharine, and Baptista

too.

Upon my life, Petruchio means but well,
Whatever fortune stays him from his word:
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise;
Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest.

Kath. Would Katharine had never seen him though!

[Exit weeping, followed by Bianca and others. Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep; For such an injury would vex a very saint, Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.

Enter BIONDELLO.

Bion. Master, master! news, old news, and such 3‹ 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?

10. rudesby, rude fellow.

30. old, extraordinary, 'rare.'