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In ivory coffers I have ftuft my crowns;
In cypress chefts my arras, counterpoints,
Coftly apparel, tents and canopies,

Fine linen, Turkey cushions bofs'd with pearl;
Valance of Venice gold in needle-work;
Pewter and brafs, and all things that belong
To house, or houfe-keeping: then, at my farm,
I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail,
Sixfcore fat oxen ftanding in my stalls;
And all things anfwerable to this portion."
Myfelf am ftruck in years, I must confels,
And if I die to morrow, this is hers;
If, whilft I live, fhe will be only mine.
Tra. That only come well in

Sir, lift to me;

I am my father's heir, and only fon;
If I may have your daughter to my wife,
I'll leave her houfes three or four as good,
Within rich Pifa walls, as any one
Old Signior Gremio has in Padua ;
Befides two thousand ducats by the year
Of fruitful land; all which fhall be her jointure.
What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio?

Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year of land!
My land amounts to but fo much in all;
That the fhall have, befides an Argofie

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negative in the fecond line falves the abfurdity, and fets the paffage right. Gremio and Tranio are vyeing in their offers to carry Bianca: The latter boldly propofes to fettle land to the amount of two thousand ducats per annum. My whole eftate, fays the other, in land, amounts but to that value; yet fhe fhall have that: I'll endow her with the whole; and confign a rich veffel to her ufe, over and above. Thus all is intelligible, and he goes on to outbid his rival. WARBURT.


That now is lying in Marseilles's road. "
What, have I choak'd you with an Argofie?

Tra. Gremio, 'tis known, my father hath no less
Than three great Argofies, befides two galliaffes
And twelve tight gallies; thefe I will affure her,
And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'ft next.
Gre. Nay, I have offer'd all; I have no more;
And the can have no more than all I have;
you like me,
fhe fhall have me and mine.
Tra. Why, then the maid is mine from all the world,
By your firm promife; Gremio is out-vied.


Bap. I must confefs, your offer is the beft;
And let your father make her the affurance,
She is your own, elfe 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, then I am thus refolv'd:
On Sunday next, you know,

My daughter Catharine is to be married:
Now on the Sunday following fhall Bianca
Be bride to you, if you make this affurance;
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 gamefter, your father were a fool
To give thee all; and in his waining age

Set foot under thy table: tut! a toy!
An old Italian fox is not fo kind, my boy.


Tra. A vengeance on your crafty wither'd hide! Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten 3:

Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten:] That is, with the higheft card, in the old fimple games of our ancestors. So that this became a proverbial expreffion. So Skelton,


And fo outface him with a card

of ten.

And Ben Johnson in his Sad Shepberd,

a Hart of ten

I trow he be,

Fyrfte pycke a quarrel, and fall i. e. an extraordinary good one.

out with him then,


'Tis in my head to do my mafter 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 cafe of wooing,
A child shall get a fire, if I fail not of my cunning.


[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?

here, Sim, eat fome of thefe things.

Sim. So I do, my Lord,

Sly. Here, Sim, I drink to thee.


Baptifta's Houfe.

Enter Lucentio, Hortenfio, and Bianca.


Idler, forbear; you grow too forward, Sir:
Have you so 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 fee 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 afks, When will the fool come? the fool, being the favourite of the vulgar, or, as we now phrafe it, of the upper gallery, was naturally expected in every interlude.


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

After his ftudies, or his ufual 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 fcholar 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 last?

Luc. Here, Madam :

Hac ibat Simois, hic eft Sigeia tellus,
Hic fteterat Priami regia celfa fenis.

Bian. Conftrue them.

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Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio, bic eft, fon unto Lucentio of Pifa, Sigeia tellus, disguised thus to get your love, hic fleterat, 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 4.

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, bic eft Sigeia tellus, I trust you not, bic 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. All but the bafe.

Hor. The bafe is right, 'tis the base 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


Was Ajax, call'd fo from his grandfather.

Bian. I muft believe my mafter, elfe I promise you, Ifhould be arguing ftill 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 muft wait, And watch withal; for, but I be deceived, Our fine mufician groweth amorous.


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

Are, to plead Hortenfio's paffion;
Bmi, Bianca, take him for thy lord,
Cfaut, that loves with all affection;

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