Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself;
Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat,
Or, what you will command me, will I do;
So well I know my duty to my elders.

Cath. Of all thy fuitors here, I charge thee, tell
Whom thou lov'ft beft: fee, thou diffemble not.
Bian. Believe me, fifter, of all men alive
I never yet beheld that special face,
Which I could fancy more than any other.

Cath. Minion, thou lyeft; is't not Hortenfio ?
Bian. If you affect him, fifter, here I swear,
I'll plead for you myself, but you fhall have him.
Cath. Oh, then, belike, you fancy riches more;
You will have Gremio, to keep you fair.

Bian. Is it for him you do fo envy me?
Nay, then you jeft; and now, I well perceive,
You have but jefted with me all this while;
I pr'ythee, fifter Kate, untie my hands.

Cath. If that be jeft, then all the reft was fo.

Enter Baptifta.

[Strikes bers

Bap. Why, how now, dame, whence grows this infolence? Bianca, ftand afide; poor girl, fhe weeps;

Go ply thy needle, meddle not with her.

toys, trifling ornaments ;) a term that he frequently ufes and feems fond of,

Midsummer Night's dream,.

And again,

With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gards, conceits,
Knacks, trifles,-

As the remembrance of an idle garde,
Which in my childhood I did doat upon.

King John.

Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,
To give me audience.

So Beaumont and Fletcher in their Women pleas'd;

Her rules and precepts hung with gards and ribbands..

And in their Two Noble Kinsmen ;

-What a mere child is fancy,

That having two fair gawds of equal sweetness,,
Cannot diftinguish, but muft cry for both.

&c. &c. &c..

For

For fhame, thou hilding of a devilish spirit,

Why dost thou wrong her, that did ne'er wrong thee? When did the cross thee with a bitter word?

Cath. Her filence flouts me; and I'll be reveng'd.

[Flies after Bianca.

Bap. What, in my fight? Bianca, get thee in.

[Exit Bian.

Cath. Will you not fuffer me? nay, now I fee,
She is your treasure; she must have a husband;
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day,
And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell:
Talk not to me, I will go fit and weep,
'Till I can find occafion of revenge.

[Exit Cath.

Bap. Was ever gentleman thus griev'd, as 1? But who comes here ?

Enter Gremio, Lucentio in the habit of a mean man; Petruchio with Hortenfio, like a musician; Tranio and Biondello bearing a lute and books.

Gre. Good morrow, neighbour Baptifta.

Bap. Good morrow, neighbour Gremio: God fave you, gentlemen.

Pet. And you, good Sir; pray, have you not a daughter call'd Catharina, fair and virtuous?

Bap I have a daughter, Sir, call'd Catharina.

Gre. You are too blunt; go to it orderly.

Pet. You wrong me. Sinior Gremio, give me leave, I am a gentleman of Verona, Sir,

That hearing of her beauty and her wit,

Her affability and bashful inodefty,

Her wondrous qualities, and mild behaviour,
Am bold to thew myfelf a forward guest

Within your houfe, to make mine eye the witness
Of that report, which I so oft have heard.
And, for an entrance to my entertainment,

[Prefenting Hor

I do prefent you with a man of mine,
Cunning in musick, and the mathematicks,
To inftru&t her fully in thofe fciences,
Whereof, I know, the is not ignorant:

Accept

Accept of him, or elfe you do me wrong,
His name is Licio, born in Mantua.

Bap. You' are welcome, Sir, and he for your good fake.
But for my daughter Catharine, this I know,
She is not for your turn, the more's my grief.
Pet. I fee you do not mean to part with her;
Or else you like not of my company.

Bap. Miftake me not, I speak but what I find.
Whence are you, Sir? what may I call
your name?
Pet. Petruchio is my name, Antonio's fon,
A man well known throughout all Italy.

Bap. I know him well: you are welcome for his fake. Gre. Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray, let us, that are poor petitioners, fpeak too. Baccalare!-you are marvellous forward. (12)

Pet. Oh, pardon me, Signior Gremio, I would fain be doing. (13)

Gre. I doubt it not, Sir, but you will curfe your wooing. Neighbour, this is a gift very grateful, I am fore of it. To exprefs the like kindness myself, that have been more kindly beholden to you than any, free leave

(12) Baccare, you are marvellous forward.] But not fo forward, as our editors are indolent and acquiefcing. This is a ftupid corruption of the prefs, that none of them have div'd into. We must read, Baccalare, as Mr. Warburton acutely obferv'd to me; by which the Italians mean, thou arrogant, prefumptuous man! The word is ufed fcornfully, upon any one that would affume a port of grandeur and high repute: Per derifione d'huomo che fia in riputatione, e che grandeggi; fays La Crufca. The French call fuch a character, un Bravache; and the Spaniards, el Fanfarron.

(13) Ob, pardon me, Signor Gremio, I would fain be doing.

Gre. I doubt it not, Sir, but you will curfe your wooing neighbours. This is a gift; It would be very unreasonable, after fuch a number of inftances, to fufpect the editors ever dwelt on the meaning of any paffage: But why should Petruchio curse his woning Neighbours? They were none of them his rivals: Nor, though he should curfe his own match afterwards, did he commence his courtship on their accounts. In fhort, Gremio is defign'd to answer to Petruchio in doggrel rhyme, to this purpose, "Yes; I know, you would fain be doing; but "you'll coap with such a devil, that you'll have reason to curfe your "wooing."-and then immediately turns his difcourfe to Baptifa, whom he calls Neighbour, (as he had done before at the beginning of this feene,) and makes his prefent to him.

give to this young scholar, that hath been long ftudying at Reims, [Prefenting Luc.] as cunning in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as the other in mufick and mathematicks; his name is Cambio; pray, accept his fervice.

Bap. A thoufand thanks, Signior Gremio: welcome, good Cambio. But, gentle Sir, methinks, you walk like a stranger; [To Tranio.] may I be fo bold to know the caufe of your coming?

Tra. Pardon me, Sir, the boldness is mine own, That, being a stranger in this city here,

Do make myself a fuitor to your daughter,

Unto Bianca, fair and virtuous:

Nor is your firm resolve unknown to me,
In the preferment of the eldest filter.
This liberty is all that I request,

That, upon knowledge of my parentage,
I may have welcome 'mongst the reft that woo,
And free accefs and favour as the reft.
And toward the education of your daughters,
I here beltow a fimple inftrument,

And this fmall packet of Greek and Latin books.
If you accept them, then their worth is great.

[They greet privately. Bap. Lucentio is your name? of whence I pray? Tra. Of Pisa, Sir, fon to Vincentio.

Bap. A mighty man of Pifa; by report
I know him well; you are very welcome, Sir. -
Take you the lute, and you the set of books,

[To Hortenfio and Lucentio.

You fhall go fee your pupils presently.

Holla, within!

Enter a fervant.

Sirrah, lead thefe gentlemen

To my two daughters; and then tell them both,
These are their tutors, bid them ufe them well.

[Exit Serv. with Hortenfio and Lucentio.

We will go walk a little in the orchard,
And then to dinner. You are paffing welcome,
And fo, I pray you all, to think yourselves.

Pet.

Pet. Signior Baptifta, my business asketh haste,
And every day I cannot come to wooe.
You knew my father well, and in him me,
Left folely heir to all his lands and goods,
Which I have better'd, rather than decreas'd;
Then tell me, if I get your daughter's love,
What dowry fhall I have with her to wife?

Bap. After my death, the one half of my lands:
And, in poffeffion, twenty thousand crowns.
Pet. And for that dowry, I'll affure her of
Her widowhood, be it that the furvive me,
In all my lands and leafes whatsoever;
Let fpecialties be therefore drawn between us,
That covenants may be kept on either hand.

Bap. Ay, when the fpecial thing is well obtain'd,
That is, her love; for that is all in all.

Pet. Why, that is nothing: For I tell you, father,
I am as peremptory as fhe proud-minded.
And where two raging fires meet together;
They do confume the thing that feeds their fury:
Tho' little fire grows great with little wind,
Yet extreme gufts will blow out fire and all:
So I to her, and fo the yields to me,
For I am rough, and wooe not like a bábe.

Bap. Well may'ft thou wooe, and happy be thy speed!
But be thou arm'd for fome unhappy words.

Pet. Ay, to the proof, as mountains are for winds; That shake not, tho' they blow perpetually.

Enter Hortenfio with his head broke.

Bap. How now, my friend; why doit thou look fo palet
Her. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.
Bap. What, will my daughter prove a good mufician?
Hor. I think, fhe'll fooner prove a foldier;
Iron may hold with her, but never lutes.

Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute?
Hor. Why, no; for fhe hath broke the lute to me.

I did but tell her, fhe mistook her frets,
And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering,
When, with a most impatient devilish spirit,

D

Frets