Old fashions please me beft; I'm not so nice (17)
To change true rules for odd inventions.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Miftrefs, your father prays you leave your books, And help to drefs your fifter's chamber up;

You know, to-morrow is the wedding-day.

Bian. Farewel, fweet mafters, both; I must be gone. [Exit. Luc. Faith, miftrefs, then I have no caufe to stay. [Exit Hor. But I have caufe 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 lift; if once I find thee ranging, Hortenfio will be quit with thee by changing.

[Exit.

Enter Baptifta, Gremio, Tranio, Catharina, Lucentio,
Bianca, and attendants.

Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed day
That Cathrine and Petruchio fhould be married;
And yet we hear not of our fon-in-law.
What will be faid? what mockery will it be,
To want the bridegroom, when the priest attends
To speak the ceremonal rites of marriage?

What fays Lucentio to this fhame of ours?

Cath. No fhame, but mine; I must, forfooth, be forc'd

To give my hand oppos'd against my heart,

Unto a mad-brain rudefby, fully of spleen;

Who woo'd in hafte, and means to wed at leisure.

I told you, I, he was a frantick fool,
Hiding his bitter jefts in blunt behaviour:

(17) Old fashions please me beft: I'm not so nice
To change true rules for new inventions.]

This is fenfe and the meaning of the paffage; but the reading of the fecond verfe, 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, reftores the fenfe, but adds a contraft in the terms perfectly juft. True rules are oppos'd to odd inventions; i. e. Whimsies.

R 4

And

And to be noted for a merry man,

He'll wooe a thoufand, 'point the day of marriage,
Make friends, invite, yes, and proclaim the banes;
Yet never means to wed, where he hath woo'd.
Now muft the world point at poor Catharine,
And fay, lo! there is mad Petruchio's wife,
If it would please him come and marry her.
Tra. Patience, good Catharine, and Baptifa too;
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well;
What ever fortune stays him from his word.
Tho' he be blunt, I know him paffing wife;
Tho' he be merry, yet withal he's honeft.

Cath. Would Catharine had never feen him tho' !
[Exit weeping.
Bap. Go, girl; I cannot blame thee now to weep;
For fuch an injury would vex a faint,

Much more a threw of thy impatient humour.

Enter Biondello.

Bien. Maier, mafter; old news, and fuch 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 he be here?

Bion. When he ftands where I am, and fees you there. Tra. But, fay, 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-cafes, one buckled, another lac'd; an old rufty fword ta'en out of the townarmory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless, with two broken points; his horfe hip'd with an old mothy faddle, the stirrups of no kindred; befides, poffeft with the glanders, and like to mofe in the chine, troubled with the lampaffe, infected with the fashions, full of windgalls, fped with fpavins, raied with the yellows, paft cure of

the

the fives, ftark spoiled with the flaggers, begnawn with the bots, waid in the back and fhoulder-fhotten, nearlegg'd before, and with a half checkt bit, and a headstall of sheep's leather, which being reftrain'd, to keep him from ftumbling, hath been often burit, 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 ftock on one leg, and a kerfey 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 monster in apparel, and not like a christian footboy, or a gentleman's lackey.

Tra. 'Tis fome odd humour pricks him to this fashion; Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell❜d.

Bap. I am glad he's come, howfoever he comes.
Bion. Why, Sir, he comes not.

Bap. Didit thou not fay, he comes?

B.on. Who? that Petruchio came?

Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came.

Bion. No, Sir; I fay, his horfe 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 these gallants? who is at home?
Bap. You're welcome, Sir.

Pat. And yet I come not well.

Bap. And yet you halt not.

Tra. Not fo well 'parell'd, 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,

As if they faw fome wondrous monument,
Some comet, or unusual prodigy?

Bap. Why, Sir, you know, this is your wedding-day:
First, were we fad, fearing you would not come;
Now fadder, that you come fo unprovided.

Fy, doff this habit, fhame to your estate,
An eye-fore to our folemn festival.

Tra. And tell us what occafion of import
Hath all fo long detain'd you from your wife,
And fent you hither fo unlike yourself?

Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to hear:
Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word,
Tho' in fome part enforced to digrefs,
Which at more leifure I will so excufe,
As you shall well be fatisfied withal.

But, where is Kate? I stay too long from her;
The morning wears; 'tis time, we were at church.
Tra. See not your bride in these unreverent robes;
Go to my chamber, put on cloaths of mine.
Pet. Not I; believe me, thus I'll vifit her.

Bap. But thus, I trust, you will not marry her.
Pet. Good footh, even thus; therefore ha'done with
To me fhe's married, not unto my cloaths: [words;
Could I repair what she will wear in me,

As I could change thefe poor accoutrements,
'Twere well for Kate, and better for myself.
But what a fool am I to chat with you,
When I should bid good-morrow to my bride,
And feal the title with a lovely kiss?

[Exit.

Tra. He hath fome meaning in his mad attire:

We will perfuade him, be it poffible,

To put on better ere he go to church..

Pap. I'll after him, and fee the event of this. [Exit.
Tra. But, Sir, our love concerneth us to add

Her father's liking; which to bring to pass,
As I before imparted to your worship,

I am to get a man, (whate'er he be,
It fills not much; we'll fit him to our turn ;)
And he fhall be Vincentio of Pita,

Sid make affurance here in Padua

Of greater fums than I have promised:
So fhall you quietly enjoy your hope,
And marry sweet Bianca with confent.

Luc. Were it not, that my fellow school-mafter
Doth watch Bianca's fteps fo narrowly,
'Twere good, methinks, to fteal our marriage;
Which once perform'd, let all the world fay, no,
I'll keep my own, defpight of all the world.
Tra. That by degrees we mean to look into,
And watch our vantage in this business:
We'll over-reach the gray-beard Gremio,
The narrow-prying father Minola,
The quaint mufician amorous Licio;
All for my master's fake, Lucentio.

Enter Gremio.

Now, Signior Gremio, came you from the church?
Gre. As willingly as e'er I came from school.
Tra. And is the bride and bridegroom coming home?
Gre. A bridegroom, fay you? 'tis a groom, indeed,
A grumbling groom, and that the girl fhall find.
Tra. Curiter than fhe? why, 'tis impoffible.
Gre. Why, he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend.
Tra. Why, the's a devil, a devil, the devil's dam.
Gre. Tut, she's a lamb, a dove, a fool to him :-
I'll tell you, Sir Lucentio; when the priest
Should afk, if Catharine fhould be his wife?
Ay, by gogs-woons, quoth he; and fwore fo loud,
That, all-amaz'd, the prieft let fall the book;
And as he ftoop'd again to take it up,

This mad-brain'd bridegroom took him fuch a cuff,
That down fell prieft and book, and book and priest.
Now take them up, quoth he, if any lift.

Tra. What faid the wench, when he rose up again? Gre. Trembled and fhook; for why, he flamp'd and

He calls for wine: a health, quoth he; as if

[fwore,

As if the vicar meant to cozen him.

But after many ceremonies done,

H'ad been aboard caroufing to his mates

After a ftorm; quafft off the mufcadel,
And threw the fops all in the fexton's face;