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For curious I cannot be with you,
Signior Baptifta, of whom I hear fo well.
Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I have to say: Your plainnefs and your fhortnefs please me well, Right true it is, your fon Lucentio here Doth love my daughter, and the loveth him, Or both diffemble deeply their affections; And therefore if you fay no more than this, That like a father you will deal with him, And pass my daughter a fufficient dowry, The match is made, and all is done, Your fon fhall have my daughter with confent. Tra. I thank you, Sir. *Where then do you beft,
Be we affied; and fuch affurance taʼen,
As fhall with either part's agreement stand.
Eap. Not in my houfe, Lucentio; for, you know, Pirchers have cars, and I have many fervants; Befides, old Gremio is hearkning ftill;
And, haply, then we might be interrupted.
And if you will, tell what hath happen'd here;
And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife.
Luc. I pray the Gods fhe may, with all my heart!
Where then do you know
beft, Be we affied; ] This feems to be wrong. We may read more commodiously,
Tra. Dally not, with the Gods, but get thee gone. Signior Baptifta, fhall I lead the way?
Welcome! one mefs is like to be your cheer.
Come, Sir, we will better it in Pifa.
Bap. I'll follow you.
Enter Lucentio, and Biondello.
Luc. What fay'ft thou, Biondello?
Bion. You faw my mafter wink and laugh upon
Luc. Biondello, what of that?
Bion. 'Faith, nothing; but he'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 she went to the garden for parfly to stuff VOL. III.
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 Prieft be ready to come againft you come with your Appendix. [Exit.
Luc. I may and will, if fhe be fo contented: She will be pleas'd, then wherefore fhould I doubt ? Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her: It fhall go hard, if Cambio go without her.
A green Lane.
Enter Petruchio, Catharine, and Hortenfio.
Pet. Come on, o'God's name, once more tow'rds
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.
Hor. Say, as he fays, or we fhall never go.
Cath. I know, it is the Moon.
Pet. Nay, then you lye; it is the bleffed Sun. Cath. Then, God be bleft, it is the blessed Sun. But Sun it is not, when you fay it is not;
And the Moon changes, even as your mind.
What you will have it named, even that it is,
Hor. Petruchio, go thy way, the field is won.
And not unluckily against the bias:
But foft, fome company is coming here.
Good morrow, gentle mistress, where away?
[To Vincentio. Tell me, fweet Kate, and tell me truly too, Haft thou beheld a fresher Gentlewoman? Such war of white and red within her cheeks! What ftars do fpangle heaven with fuch beauty, As those two eyes become that heav'nly face? Fair lovely Maid, once more good day to thee: Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's fake.
In the first sketch of this play, printed in 1607, we find two speeches in this place worth preferving, and feeming to be
of the hand of Shakespear, tho' the rest of that play is far inferior.
Fair lovely maiden, young and affable,
-Sweet Catharine, this lovely woman-
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,
Cath. Pardon, old Father, my mistaken eyes;
Pet. Do, good old Grandfire, and withal make
Which way thou travelleft: if along with us,
Vin. Fair Sir, and you my merry Mistress,
A fon of mine, which long I have not seen.
Vin. Lucentio, gentle Sir.
Pet. Happily met, the happier for thy fon;