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SCENE, before Baptifta's House.
Enter Tranio, and the Pedant dreft like Vincentio. TRANIO.
IR, this is the house; please it you, that I call?
SIR Ped. Ay, what else! and (but I be deceived,)
Signior Baptifta may remember me
Tra. 'Tis well, and hold your own in any cafe
Ped. I warrant you: but, Sir, here comes your boy s 'Twere good, he were school'd.
Tra. Fear you not him; firrah, Biondello, Now. do your duty throughly, I advise you : Imagine, 'twere the right Vincentio.
Bion. Tut, fear not me.
Tra. But haft thou done thy errand to Baptifta? Bion. I told him, that your father was in Venice; And that you look'd for him this day in Padua.
Tra. Th'art a tall fellow, hold thee that to drink; Here comes Baptifta; fet your countenance, Sir.
Enter Baptifta and Lucentio.
Tra. Signior Baptifta, you are happily met: Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of;
(19) Tra. Where we were Lodgers at the Pegasus.] This Linehas in all the Editions hitherto been given to Tranio. But Tranie could with no Propriety fpeak this, either in his affum'd or real Character. Lucentio was too young to know any thing of lodging with his Father, twenty years before at Genoa: and Tranio must be as much too young, or very unfit to represent and perfonate Lucentio. I have ventur'd to place the Line to the Pedant, to whom it muft certainly belong, and is a Sequel of what he was before saying..
1 pray you ftand, good Father, to me now, Give me Bianca for my patrimony.
Ped. Soft, fon. Sir, by your leave, having come to Padua
To gather in fome debts, my fon Lucentio
To have him match'd; and if you please to like
Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I have to say:
Be we affied; and fuch affurance ta'en,
As fhall with either part's agreement stand;
Bap. Not in my houfe, Lucentio; for, you know, Pitchers have ears, and I have many fervants; Befides, old Gremio is hearkning ftill; And, haply, then we might be interrupted.
Tra. Then at my lodging, an it like you, Sir, There doth my Father lye; and there this night We'll pass the business privately and well: Send for your daughter by your fervant here,
My boy fhall fetch the fcrivener presently.
And how fhe's like to be Lucentio's wife.
Luc. I pray the Gods fhe may, with all my heart!
but get thee
Tra. Dally not, with the Gods,
Enter Lucentio and Biondello.
Luc. What fay'ft thou, Biondello?
Bion. You faw my mafter wink and laugh upon you. Luc. Biondello, what of that?
Bion. 'Faith, nothing; But ha's left me here behind to expound the meaning or moral of his figns and tokens.
Luc. I pray thee, moralize them.
Bion. Then thus. Baptifta is fafe, talking with the deceiving father of a deceitful fon.
Luc. And what of him?
Bion. His Daughter is to be brought by you to the fupper.
Luc. And then?
Bion. The old Prieft at St. Luke's Church is at your command at all hours.
Luc. And what of all this?
Bion. I cannot tell; expect, they are bufied about a counterfeit affurance; take you affurance of her, Cum privilegio ad imprimendum folùm; to th' Church take the Prieft, Clark, and fome fufficient honeft witnesses: If this be not that you look for, I have no more to say, But bid Bianca farewel for ever and a day.
Luc. Hear'ft thou, Biondello?
Bion. I cannot tarry; I knew a wench married in an afternoon as he went to the garden for parfly to stuff a rabbet; and fo may you, Sir, and fo adieu, Sir; my Mafter hath appointed me to go to St. Luke's, to bid the Priest be ready to come against you come with your Appendix. [Exit.
Luc. I may and will, if she be fo contented :
SCENE, a green Lane.
Enter Petruchio, Catharina, and Hortenfio.
Ome on, o' God's name, once more tow❜rds our
Good Lord, how bright and goodly fhines the Moon! Cath. The Moon! the Sun: it is not Moon-light
Pet. I fay, it is the Moon that shines fo bright. Cath. I know, it is the Sun that shines fo bright. Pet. Now by my mother's fon, and that's my self, It fhall be Moon, or Star, or what I lift, Or ere I journey to your father's house : Go on, and fetch our horfes back again. Evermore croft and croft, nothing but croft!
Hor. Say, as he says, or we fhall never go. Cath. Forward I pray, fince we are come so far, And be it Moon, or Sun, or what you please : And if you please to call it a rufh candle, Henceforth I vow it fhall be fo for me.
Pet. Nay, then you lye; it is the bleffed Sun.
Pet. I fay, it is the Moon.
Cath. I know, it is the Moon.
What you will have it nam'd, even that it is,
Hor. Petruchio, go thy way, the field is won.
And not unluckily against the bias :
Good morrow, gentle miftrefs, where away?
Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too,
Hor. He will make the man mad, to make a woman of him.
Cath. Young budding Virgin, fair, and fresh, and fweet,
Whither away, or where is thy aboad?
Pet. Why, how now, Kate, I hope, thou art not mad! This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, withered, And not a maiden, as, thou fay'st he is.
Cath. Pardon, old Father, my mistaken eyes;
Pet. Do, good old Grandfire, and withal make known
Vin. Fair Sir, and you my merry Mittels,