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HORTENSIO. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange? |
Sorry am I that our good will effects |
Bianca's grief. |
GREMIO. Why will you mew her up, |
Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell, |
And make her bear the penance of her tongue? |
BAPTISTA. Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolv'd. |
Go in, Bianca. Exit BIANCA |
And for I know she taketh most delight |
In music, instruments, and poetry, |
Schoolmasters will I keep within my house |
Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio, |
Or, Signior Gremio, you, know any such, |
Prefer them hither; for to cunning men |
I will be very kind, and liberal |
To mine own children in good bringing-up; |
And so, farewell. Katherina, you may stay; |
For I have more to commune with Bianca. Exit |
KATHERINA. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not? |
What! shall I be appointed hours, as though, belike, |
I knew not what to take and what to leave? Ha! Exit |
GREMIO. You may go to the devil's dam; your gifts are so good |
here's none will hold you. There! Love is not so great, |
Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together, and fast it fairly |
out; our cake's dough on both sides. Farewell; yet, for the love |
I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit man |
to teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to her |
father. |
HORTENSIO. SO Will I, Signior Gremio; but a word, I pray. Though |
the nature of our quarrel yet never brook'd parle, know now, upon |
advice, it toucheth us both- that we may yet again have access to |
our fair mistress, and be happy rivals in Bianca's love- to |
labour and effect one thing specially. |
GREMIO. What's that, I pray? |
HORTENSIO. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister. |
GREMIO. A husband? a devil. |
HORTENSIO. I say a husband. |
GREMIO. I say a devil. Think'st thou, Hortensio, though her father |
be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to hell? |
HORTENSIO. Tush, Gremio! Though it pass your patience and mine to |
endure her loud alarums, why, man, there be good fellows in the |
world, an a man could light on them, would take her with all |
faults, and money enough. |
GREMIO. I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry with this |
condition: to be whipp'd at the high cross every morning. |
HORTENSIO. Faith, as you say, there's small choice in rotten |
apples. But, come; since this bar in law makes us friends, it |
shall be so far forth friendly maintain'd till by helping |
Baptista's eldest daughter to a husband we set his youngest free |
for a husband, and then have to't afresh. Sweet Bianca! Happy man |
be his dole! He that runs fastest gets the ring. How say you, |
Signior Gremio? |
GREMIO. I am agreed; and would I had given him the best horse in |
Padua to begin his wooing that would thoroughly woo her, wed her, |
and bed her, and rid the house of her! Come on. |
Exeunt GREMIO and HORTENSIO |
TRANIO. I pray, sir, tell me, is it possible |
That love should of a sudden take such hold? |
LUCENTIO. O Tranio, till I found it to be true, |
I never thought it possible or likely. |
But see! while idly I stood looking on, |
I found the effect of love in idleness; |
And now in plainness do confess to thee, |
That art to me as secret and as dear |
As Anna to the Queen of Carthage was- |
Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish, Tranio, |
If I achieve not this young modest girl. |
Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst; |
Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt. |
TRANIO. Master, it is no time to chide you now; |
Affection is not rated from the heart; |
If love have touch'd you, nought remains but so: |
'Redime te captum quam queas minimo.' |
LUCENTIO. Gramercies, lad. Go forward; this contents; |
The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound. |
TRANIO. Master, you look'd so longly on the maid. |
Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all. |
LUCENTIO. O, yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face, |
Such as the daughter of Agenor had, |
That made great Jove to humble him to her hand, |
When with his knees he kiss'd the Cretan strand. |
TRANIO. Saw you no more? Mark'd you not how her sister |
Began to scold and raise up such a storm |
That mortal ears might hardly endure the din? |
LUCENTIO. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move, |
And with her breath she did perfume the air; |
Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her. |
TRANIO. Nay, then 'tis time to stir him from his trance. |
I pray, awake, sir. If you love the maid, |
Bend thoughts and wits to achieve her. Thus it stands: |
Her elder sister is so curst and shrewd |
That, till the father rid his hands of her, |
Master, your love must live a maid at home; |
And therefore has he closely mew'd her up, |
Because she will not be annoy'd with suitors. |
LUCENTIO. Ah, Tranio, what a cruel father's he! |
But art thou not advis'd he took some care |
To get her cunning schoolmasters to instruct her? |
TRANIO. Ay, marry, am I, sir, and now 'tis plotted. |
LUCENTIO. I have it, Tranio. |
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