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[Aside] My land amounts not to so much in all.- |
That she shall have, besides an argosy |
That now is lying in Marseilles road. |
What, have I chok'd you with an argosy? |
TRANIO. Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less |
Than three great argosies, besides two galliasses, |
And twelve tight galleys. These I will assure her, |
And twice as much whate'er thou off'rest next. |
GREMIO. Nay, I have off'red all; I have no more; |
And she can have no more than all I have; |
If you like me, she shall have me and mine. |
TRANIO. Why, then the maid is mine from all the world |
By your firm promise; Gremio is out-vied. |
BAPTISTA. I must confess your offer is the best; |
And let your father make her the assurance, |
She is your own. Else, you must pardon me; |
If you should die before him, where's her dower? |
TRANIO. That's but a cavil; he is old, I young. |
GREMIO. And may not young men die as well as old? |
BAPTISTA. Well, gentlemen, |
I am thus resolv'd: on Sunday next you know |
My daughter Katherine is to be married; |
Now, on the Sunday following shall Bianca |
Be bride to you, if you make this assurance; |
If not, to Signior Gremio. |
And so I take my leave, and thank you both. |
GREMIO. Adieu, good neighbour. Exit BAPTISTA |
Now, I fear thee not. |
Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool |
To give thee all, and in his waning age |
Set foot under thy table. Tut, a toy! |
An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. Exit |
TRANIO. A vengeance on your crafty withered hide! |
Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten. |
'Tis in my head to do my master good: |
I see no reason but suppos'd Lucentio |
Must get a father, call'd suppos'd Vincentio; |
And that's a wonder- fathers commonly |
Do get their children; but in this case of wooing |
A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning. |
Exit |
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ACT III. SCENE I. |
Padua. BAPTISTA'S house |
Enter LUCENTIO as CAMBIO, HORTENSIO as LICIO, and BIANCA |
LUCENTIO. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir. |
Have you so soon forgot the entertainment |
Her sister Katherine welcome'd you withal? |
HORTENSIO. But, wrangling pedant, this is |
The patroness of heavenly harmony. |
Then give me leave to have prerogative; |
And when in music we have spent an hour, |
Your lecture shall have leisure for as much. |
LUCENTIO. Preposterous ass, that never read so far |
To know the cause why music was ordain'd! |
Was it not to refresh the mind of man |
After his studies or his usual pain? |
Then give me leave to read philosophy, |
And while I pause serve in your harmony. |
HORTENSIO. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine. |
BIANCA. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong |
To strive for that which resteth in my choice. |
I arn no breeching scholar in the schools, |
I'll not be tied to hours nor 'pointed times, |
But learn my lessons as I please myself. |
And to cut off all strife: here sit we down; |
Take you your instrument, play you the whiles! |
His lecture will be done ere you have tun'd. |
HORTENSIO. You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune? |
LUCENTIO. That will be never- tune your instrument. |
BIANCA. Where left we last? |
LUCENTIO. Here, madam: |
'Hic ibat Simois, hic est Sigeia tellus, |
Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.' |
BIANCA. Construe them. |
LUCENTIO. 'Hic ibat' as I told you before- 'Simois' I am Lucentio- |
'hic est' son unto Vincentio of Pisa- 'Sigeia tellus' disguised |
thus to get your love- 'Hic steterat' and that Lucentio that |
comes a-wooing- 'Priami' is my man Tranio- 'regia' bearing my |
port- 'celsa senis' that we might beguile the old pantaloon. |
HORTENSIO. Madam, my instrument's in tune. |
BIANCA. Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars. |
LUCENTIO. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. |
BIANCA. Now let me see if I can construe it: 'Hic ibat Simois' I |
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