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'Tis in my head to do my master good;
I fee no reason, but fuppos'd Lucentio
May get a father, call'd fuppos'd Vincentio ;
And that's a wonder: fathers commonly

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

]Exit.

[The Prefenters, above, fpeak here.

Sly. Sim, when will the fool come again?

Sim. Anon, my Lord.

Sly. Give's fome more drink bere-where's the tapfier ?

bere, Sim, eat fome of these things.

Sim. So I do, my Lord.

Sly. Here, Sim, I drink to thee.

АСТ III.

SCENE I.

Baptifta's House.

Enter Lucentio, Hortenfio, and Bianca.

LUCENTI O.

Idler, forbear; you grow too forward, Sir:
Have you
fo foon forgot the entertainment
Her fifter Catharine welcom'd you withal?
Hor. 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 leifure for as much.
Luc. Prepofterous afs! that never read fo far

If the word hart be right, I do not see any ufe of the latter quotation.

When will the fool come again?] The character of the fool has not been introduced in this drama, therefore I believe

that the word again should be omitted, and that Sly asks, When will the fool come? the fool, being the favourite of the vulgar, or, as we now phrase it, of the upper gallery, was naturally expected in every interlude.

To

To know the cause why mufic was ordain'd:
Was it not to refresh the mind of man

After his ftudies, or his usual pain?
Then give me leave to read philofophy,
And, while I pause, serve in your harmony.

Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear thefe Braves of thine.
Bian. Why, Gentlemen, you do me double wrong,
To ftrive for that which refteth in my choice:
I am no breeching scholar in the schools;
I'll not be tied to hours, nor 'pointed times,
But learn my leffons as I please myself;
And to cut off all ftrife, here fit we down,
Take you your inftrument, play you the while;
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 inftrument.
Bian. Where left we laft?

Luc. Here, Madam :

Hac ibat Simois, bic 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 Lucentio of Pifa, Sigeia tellus, difguised 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 fteterat Priami, take heed he hear us not, regia, prefume not, celfa fenis, despair not.

Hor. Madam, 'tis now in tune.

* Pantaloon, the old cully in Italian farces.

Luc.

Luc. All but the base.

Hor. The base is right, 'tis the bafe knave that jars. How fiery and how froward is our Pedant!

Now, for my life, that 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

acides

Was Ajax, call'd fo from his grandfather.

Bian. I must believe my mafter, elfe I promise you, I fhould be arguing still 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:

Hor. You may go walk, and give me leave awhile; My leffons make no mufick in three parts.

Luc. Are you fo formal, Sir? well. I must wait,
And watch withal; for, but I be deceived,.
Our fine musician groweth amorous.

[Afide.
Hor. Madam, before you touch the inftrument,
To learn the order of my fingering,
I must begin with rudiments of art;
To teach you Gamut in a briefer fort,
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 paft my Gamut long ago.
Hor. Yet read the Gamut of Hortenfio.

Bian. [reading:] Gamut I am, the ground of all accord,

Are, to plead Hortenfio's paffion;

B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord,
Cfaut, that loves with all affection;

5 Pedafcule, he would
]
have faid Didaftale, but think-
ing this too honourable, he coins
the word Pedafcale in imitation
of it, from Pedant.

WARBURTON.
In time I may believe, yet I
VOL. III.

miftruft.] This and the feven Verfes, that follow, have in all the Editions been stupidly fhuffled and mifplac'd to wrong Speakers; fo that every Word faid was glaringly out of Character. THEOBALD.

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D folre, one cliff, but two notes have I.
E la mi, fhow pity, or I die.

Call you this Gamut? tut, I like it not;
Old fashions please me beft; I'm 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 fifter's chamber up;
You know, to-morrow is the wedding-day.

Bian. Farewel, fweet mafters, both; I must be gone.

[Exit.

Luc. Faith, mistress, then I have no caufe to ftay.

[Exit.

Hor. But I have caufe to pry into this pedant,
Methinks, he looks as tho' he was in love:
Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be fo humble,
To caft thy wandring eyes on every Stale;
Seize thee, who lift; if once I find thee ranging,
Hortenfio will be quit with thee by changing.

SCENE IL

[Exit.

Enter Baptifta, Gremio, Tranio, Catharina, Lu-
centio, Bianca, and attendants.

Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed day
That Cathrine and Petruchio fhould be married;
And yet we hear not of our fon-in-law.
What will be faid? what mockery will it be,

7 Old fashions please me beft;
I'm not so nice

To change true Rules for new Inventions.] This is Senfe and the Meaning of the Paffage; but the Reading of the Second

Verfe, for all that, is fophifticated. The genuine Copies all concur in Reading,

To change true Rules for old

Inventions.

THEOBALD.

To

To want the Bridegroom, when the Priest attends
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage?
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,.
Unto a mad-brain, Rudefby, full of spleen ;
Who woo'd in hafte, and means to wed at leisure.
I told you, I, he was a frantick fool,
Hiding his bitter jefts in blunt behaviour:
And to be noted for a merry man,

He'll woo a thoufand, 'point the day of marriage,
Make friends, invite, yes, and proclaim the banns;
Yet never means to wed, where he hath woo'd.
Now muft the world point at poor Catharine,
And fay, lo! there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her.
Tra. Patience, good Catharine, and Baptifta too;
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well;
Whatever fortune ftays him from his word.
Tho' he be blunt, I know him paffing wife:
Tho' he be merry, yet withal he's honeft.

Cath. Would Catharine had never seen him tho'!

[Exit. weeping. Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep; For fuch an injury would vex a Saint,

Much more a Shrew 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?

Full of Spleen.] That is, full of humour, caprice, and inconfancy.

E 2

Bion

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