Imatges de pÓgina
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Then give me leave to have prerogative;
And when in musick we have spent an hour, - 978817,3
Your lecture shall have leisure for as machi and in 1 1

Luc. Preposterous ass! that never read to far o
To know the cause why muôck was ordain'd : VI.
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, ferve 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 restech in my choices". )
I am no breeching scholar in the schools; »)
I'll not be tied to hours, nor pointed timesgl o's
But learn my lessons as I please myself;

And, to cut off all strife, here fit we down,
Take you your inftrument, play you the while;
His lecture will be done, ere you have cun'd.
Hor. You'll leave his lecture, when I am in tune?

[Hortenfio retires.
Luc. That will be never : Tune your instrument.
Bian. Where left we last?

Luc. Here, Madain : Hac ibat Simcis, hic eft Sigeia tellus, Hic fleterat Priami regia celfa fenis,

Bian. Conftrue them.

Luc. Hac ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio, bic eft, fon unto Vincentio of Pisa, Sigeia tellus, disguised thus to get your love, hic fteterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing, Priimi, is my màn Tranio, regia, bearing my port, celfa fenis, that we might beguile the old pantaloon.

Hor. Madam, my instrument's in tune. [Returning
Bian. Let's hear. O fy, the treble jars,
Luc. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.

Bian. Now let me see, if I can contrue it: Hac ibat Simois, I know you not, hic eff Sigeia tellus, ftrult you not, hic fteterat Priami, take heed he hear us not, regia, presume not, celfa senis, despair not. virusi

Hor. Madam, 'tis now in tune.
Luc. All but the base.


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For The base is right, 'is the base knave that jars.
How fiery and how froward is our pedant!
Now, for my life, that knave doth court my love ;
Pidafiule, I'll watch you better yet.

Biar. In time I may believe, yet I mifruft. (16)

Luc. Miftrust it not, for, fure, Æacidesosa Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather

Bian. I must believe my malier, else I promise you, I thould be arguing still opon that doubt; But let it reft. 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, and give me leave a while; My lessons make no mufick in three partsasi's 3.03

Luc: Are you fo formal, Sir ? well, I must wail,
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 fort,
More pleasant, pithy, and effectual,
Than hath been taught by any of trade;
And there it is in writing fairly drawn.

Bian. Why, I am past 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 paflion;
B mi, Biania, take him for thy Lord,

Cfaut, that loves with all affection;
D fol re, one cliff, but two notes have I.
Elami, show pity, or I die.

this Gamut? tut, I like it not;


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(16) In time I way believe, yet I misirujt.) This and the seven verses, that follow, have in all the editions been stupidly fhufilled and misplac'd to wrong speakers : So that every word said was glaringly out of character. I firft directed the true regulation of them in my SHAKESPEARE refor'd, and Mr. Pape has since embraced it in bis last edition, l ought to take notice, the ingenious Dr. Tbrilby, without sceing my book, had struck out the self-fame regulations


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Old fashions please me beft; I'm not so nice (15)
To change true rules for odd inventions.

Enter, a Servant,
Sery. Mistress, your father prays you leave your books,
And help to drefs your filter's chamber up;
You know, to-morrow is the wedding-day.

Bian. Farewel, sweet masters, both; I must be gone (Exit,
Luc. Faich, mitress, then I have no cause to itay: [Exit.

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

(Exit. Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Catharina, Lucentio,

Bianca, and attendants.
Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed day
That Cathrine and Petruchio should be married;
And yet we hear not of our son-in-law.
What will be said I what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom, when the priest attends-
To speak the ceremonal rites of marriage ?
What says Lucentio to this shame of ours ?

Cath. No shame, but mine; I must, forsooth, be forc'd
To give my hand oppos'd against my heart,
Unto a mad-brain rudesby, fully of spleen;
Who woo'd in halte, and means to wed at leisure,
I told you, I, he was a frantick fool,
Hiding his bitter jetts in blunt behaviour :
(17) Old fashions please me bejt : I'm not so nice

To change true rules for new inventions.)
This is sense and the meaning of the passage; but the reading of the
fecond verse, for all that, is sophisticated. The genuine copies all
concur in reading,

To change true rules for old inventions. This, indeed, is contrary to the very thing it should exprefs : But the eafy alteration, which I have made, restores the sense, but adds a contrast in the terms perfe&ly just,' True rules are oppos'dito add inventions; i. e. Wbimsies.

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And to be noted for a merry man,
He'il noce a thousand, 'point the day of marriage,
Make friends, invite, yes, iand proclaim the banes;
Yes never means to wed, where he hath wood.
Now poft she world point at poor Catbarine,
And say, lo! there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her.'' 10 755

Tra, Patience, good Catharine, and Baptifa too;
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well;
What ever fortune itays him from his word.
Tho' he be blunt, I know him pafling' wife;
Tho' he be merry, yet withal he's honeft.
Carh. Would Catharine had never seen him cho'!

[Exit weeping:
Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep;
For such an injury, would vex a faint, :
Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.

Enter Biondello. Bion. Master, master; old news, and such news as you never heard of.

Bap. Is it new and old too? how may that be?
Bion. Why, is it not news to hear of Petruchio's coming ?
Bap. Is he come?
Bion. Why, no, Sir.
Bap. What then?
Bion. He is coming.
Bap. When will be be here?
Bien. When he stands where I am, and fees you there.
Pra. But, say, what to thine old news?

Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming in a new hat and an old jerkin; a pair of old breeches thrice turn'd; a pair of boots that have been candle-cases, one buckled, another lac'd ; an old rufy sword ta'en ont of the town. armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless, with two broken points; his horse hip'd with an old mothy saddle, the stirrups of no kindred; besides, pofseft with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine, troubled with the lampafle, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls, fped with spavins, raied with the yellows, paft cure of


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the fives, stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the bots, waid in the back and thoulder-shotten, nearlegg'd before, and with a half.checke bit, and a beadfall of sheep's leather, which being restrain’d, to keep him from stumbling, hath been often burst, and now repair'd with knots; one girt fix times piec'd, and a woman's crupper of velure, which hath two letters for her name, fairly fet down in ftuds, and here and there piec'd with packthread.

Bap. Who comes with him?

Bion. Oh, Sir, his lackey, for all the world caparifon'd like the horse, with a linnen stock on one leg, and a kersey boot-hofe on the other, garter'd with a red and blue lift, an old hat, and the humour of forty fancies'' prickt up in't for a feather: a moniter, a very moniter in apparel, and not like a chriftian footboy, or a gentle. man's lackey.

Tra. 'Tis some odd humoor pricks him to this fashion;
Yet oftentimes he goes but mean appa:ellid.

Bap. I am glad he's come, howsoever he comes.
Bion. Why, Sir, he comes not.
Bap. Didit thou not say, he comes?
B.on. Who? that Petruchio came?
Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came.

Bion. No, Sir; I say, his horse comes with him on his back.

Bap. Why, that's all one.

Bion. Nay, by St. Jamy, I hold you a penny,
A horfe and a man is more than one, and yet not many.

Enter Petruchio and Grumio fantastically habited.
Pet. Come, where be there gallants? who is at home?
Bap. You're welcome, Sir.
Pet. And yet I come not well.
Bap. And yet you halt not.
Tra. Not so well 'parelld, as I'wish you were.

Pet. Were it better, I thould rush in thus.
But where is Kate? where is my lovely bride?
How does my father? gentles, methinks, you frown:
And wherefore gaze this goodly company,



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