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Kyudan
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BIONDELLO:
Softly and swiftly, sir; for the priest is ready.
LUCENTIO:
I fly, Biondello: but they may chance to need thee
at home; therefore leave us.
BIONDELLO:
Nay, faith, I'll see the church o' your back; and
then come back to my master's as soon as I can.
GREMIO:
I marvel Cambio comes not all this while.
PETRUCHIO:
Sir, here's the door, this is Lucentio's house:
My father's bears more toward the market-place;
Thither must I, and here I leave you, sir.
VINCENTIO:
You shall not choose but drink before you go:
I think I shall command your welcome here,
And, by all likelihood, some cheer is toward.
GREMIO:
They're busy within; you were best knock louder.
Pedant:
What's he that knocks as he would beat down the gate?
VINCENTIO:
Is Signior Lucentio within, sir?
Pedant:
He's within, sir, but not to be spoken withal.
VINCENTIO:
What if a man bring him a hundred pound or two, to
make merry withal?
Pedant:
Keep your hundred pounds to yourself: he shall
need none, so long as I live.
PETRUCHIO:
Nay, I told you your son was well beloved in Padua.
Do you hear, sir? To leave frivolous circumstances,
I pray you, tell Signior Lucentio that his father is
come from Pisa, and is here at the door to speak with him.
Pedant:
Thou liest: his father is come from Padua and here
looking out at the window.
VINCENTIO:
Art thou his father?
Pedant:
Ay, sir; so his mother says, if I may believe her.
PETRUCHIO:
Pedant:
Lay hands on the villain: I believe a' means to
cozen somebody in this city under my countenance.
BIONDELLO:
I have seen them in the church together: God send
'em good shipping! But who is here? mine old
master Vincentio! now we are undone and brought to nothing.
VINCENTIO:
BIONDELLO:
Hope I may choose, sir.
VINCENTIO:
Come hither, you rogue. What, have you forgot me?
BIONDELLO:
Forgot you! no, sir: I could not forget you, for I
never saw you before in all my life.
VINCENTIO:
What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see
thy master's father, Vincentio?
BIONDELLO:
What, my old worshipful old master? yes, marry, sir:
see where he looks out of the window.
VINCENTIO:
Is't so, indeed.
BIONDELLO:
Help, help, help! here's a madman will murder me.
Pedant:
Help, son! help, Signior Baptista!