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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 Than three great argosies; besides two galliasses, And twelve tight gallies: 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;like me, she shall have me and mine. Tra. Why, then the maid is mine from all the world,

If you

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;
If not, to signior Gremio:

And so I take my leave, and thank you both. [Exit. Gre. Adieu, good neighbour.-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 faced 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 wooing, A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning.


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Enter Lucentio, Hortensio, and Bianca.


Luc. Fidler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir:
you so soon forgot the entertainment
Her sister Katharine welcom'd you withal?
Hor. But, wrangling pedant, this is
patroness of heavenly harmony:


Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in musick 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 musick 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:
bam no breeching scholar in the schools;
Fll 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?


[To Bianca.-Hortensio retires.


Luc. That will be never;-tune your instrument. Bian. Where left we last?

Luc. Here, madam:

Hac ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus;

Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.

Bian. Construe them.

Luc. Hac 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.

[Returning. [Hortensio plays.

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: Hac 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.


All but the base. Hor. The base 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:
Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet.

Bian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.
Luc. Mistrust it not; for, sure, acides

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

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


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, [To Lucentio.] and give
me leave awhile;

My lessons make no musick in three parts.

Luc. Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait, 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
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 ac



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

C faut, that loves with all affection:
D sol re, one cliff, two notes have I;
E la mi, show pity, or I die.


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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