Bian. God gave him joy!

Tra. Ay, and he'll tame her.
Bian. He fays fo, Tranio.

Tra. 'Faith, he's gone unto the taming school.
Bian. The taming school? what, is there fuch a place?
Tra. Ay, miftrefs, and Petruchio is the mafter;
That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long,
To tame a fhrew, and charm her chattering tongue.
Enter Biondello, running.

Bion, Oh mafter, mafter, I have watch'd fo long, That I'm dog-weary; but at last I spied (20) An ancient engle, going down the hill,

Will ferve the turn.

Tra. What is he, Biondello?

Bion. Mafter, a mercantant, or else a pedant; I know not what; but formal in apparel; (21)

(20)

-but at last I fpied

An ancient angel going down the bill,
Will ferve the turn.]]

In

am confident,

Though all the printed copies agree in this reading, that Shakespeare intended no profanation here; nor indeed any compliment to this old man who was to be impos'd upon, and made a property of. The word I have reftor'd, certainly retrieves the author's meaning: And means, either in its firft fignification, a burdash; (for the word is of Spanish extraction, ingle, which is equivalent to inguen of the Latines; or, in its metaphorical fenfe, a gull, a cully, one fit to be made a tool of. And in both fenfes it is frequently us'd by B. Jonfon..

Cynthia's Revels.

-and fweat for every venial trespass we commit, as fome author would, if he had fuch fine engles as we.

The Cafe is alter'd; (a comedy not printed among B. Jonfon's works) What Signior Antonio Balladino! welcome, fweet engle. Poetafter.

What, fhall I have my son a stager now? an engle for players? And he likewife ufes it, as a verb, in the fame play, fignifying to beguile, defraud.

I'll prefently go, and engle some broker for a poet's gown, and befpeak a garland.

(21)

-but formal in apparel;

In gate and countenance surely like a father.]

I have made bold to read, furly; and furely, I believe, I am right in doing fo. Our poet always reprefents his pedants, imperious and

magifterial.

In gate and countenance furly like a father.
Luc. And what of him, Tranio?

Tra. If he be credulous, and truft my tale,
I'll make him glad to feem Vincentio,
And give him affurance to Baptifta Minola,
As if he were the right Vincentio :
Take in your love, and then let me alone.

Enter a Pedant.

Ped. God fave you, Sir.

[Exe. Luc. and Bian.

Tra. And you, Sir; you are welcome:
Travel you far on, or are you at the fartheft?
Ped. Sir, at the farthest for a week or two;

But then up farther, and as far as Rome;
And fo to Tripoly, if God lend me life.
Tra. What countryman, I pray?

Ped. Of Mantua.

Tra. Of Mantua, Sir? God forbid !

And come to Padua, careless of your life?

Ped. My life, Sir! hcw, I pray? for that goes hard.
Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua

To come to Padua; know you not the cause ?
Your ships are staid at Venice, and the Duke
(For private quarrel 'twixt your Duke and him,)
Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly:
'Tis marvel, but that you're but newly come,
You might have heard it elfe proclaim'd about.
Ped. Alas, Sir; it is worfe for me than fo;
For I have bills for money by exchange
From Florence, and muft here deliver them.
Tra. Well, Sir, to do you courtesy,
This will I do, and this will I advise you;
First, tell me, have you ever been at Pifa?
Ped. Ay, Sir, in Pifa have I often been;
Pifa renowned for grave citizens.

magifterial. Befides, Tranio's directions to the pedant for his beha viour vouch for my emendation.

'Tis well; and bold your own in any case,
With fuch aufterity as longeth to a father.

Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio ? Ped. I know him not, but I have heard of him; A merchant of incomparable wealth.

Tra. He is my father, Sir; and, footh to say, In count'nance fomewhat doth resemble you.

Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyfter, and all one.

Tra. To fave your life in this extremity,
This favour will I do you for his fake;
And thi k it not the worst of all your fortunes,
That you are like to Sir Vincentio :

His name and credit fhall you undertake,
And in my house you shall be friendly lodg'd:
Look, that you take upon you as you fhould.
You understand me, Sir: So shall you stay
'Till you have done your business in the city.
If this be court'fy, Sir, accept of it.

Ped. Oh, Sir, I do; and will repute you ever
The Patron of my life and liberty.

[Afide.

Tra. Then go with me to make the matter good: This by the way I let you understand,

My father is here look'd for every day,

To pafs affurance of a dowre in marriage

'Twixt me and one Baptifta's daughter here: In all thefe circumftances I'll inftruct you:

Go with me, Sir, to cloath you as becomes you. [Exeunt. Enter Catharina and Grumio.

Gru. No, no, forfooth, I dare not for my life. Cath. The more my wrong, the more his spite appears: What, did he marry me to famish me?

Beggars, that come unto my father's door,

Upon intreaty, have a prefent alms;

If not, elsewhere they meet with charity :
But I, who never knew how to intreat,

Nor never needed that I should intreat,

Am ftarv'd for meat, giddy for lack of fleep;
With oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed;

And that, which fpights me more than all thefe wants,
He does it under name of perfect love;

As

As who would fay, if I fhould fleep or eat
'Twere deadly fickness, or else present death:
I pr'ythee go, and get me fome repaft;
I care not what, fo it be wholefome food.
Gru. What fay you to a neat's foot?

Cath. 'Tis paffing good; I pr'ythee, let me have it.
Gru. I fear, it is too flegmatick a meat:
How fay you to a fat tripe finely broil'd?

Cath. I like it well; good Grumio, fetch it me. Gru. I cannot tell;-I fear, it's cholerick: What fay you to a piece of beef and mustard? Cath. A difh, that I do love to feed upon. Gru. Ay, but the muftard is too hot a little. Cath. Why, then the beef, and let the mustard rest. Gru. Nay, then I will not; you shall have the mustard, Or else you get no beef of Grumio.

Cath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou wilt.
Gru. Why, then the muftard without the beef.
Cath, Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding flave,

That feed'ft me with the very name of meat:
Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of
That triumph thus upon my mifery!

Go, get thee gone, I say.

you,

[beats him.

Enter Petruchio and Hortenfio, with meat.

Pet. How fares my Kate? what fweeting, all amort ? Hor. Miftrefs, what cheer?

Cath. Faith, as cold as can be.

Pet. Pluck up thy fpirits; look cheerfully upon me; Here, love, thou feeft how diligent I am,

To drefs thy meat myself, and bring it thee:

I'm fure, fweet Kate, this kindness merits thanks.
What, not a word? nay then, thou lov'ft it not:
And all my pains is forted to no proof.

Here take away the dish.

Cath. I pray you, let it stand.

Pet. The pooreft fervice is repaid with thanks, And fo fhall mine, before you touch the meat. Cath. I thank you, Sir.

VOL. II.

Her.

Hor. Signior Petruchio, fy, you are to blame:
Come, mistress Kate, I'll bear you company.
Pet. Eat it up all, Hortenfio, if thou lovest me;-

Much good do it unto thy gentle heart;
Kate, eat apace. And now, my honey-love,
Will we return unto thy father's house,
And revel it as bravely as the best,

[Afide.

With filken coats, and caps, and golden rings,
With ruffs, and cuffs, and fardingals, and things:
With fcarfs, and fans, and double change of brav'ry,
With amber bracelets, beads, and all this knavery.
What, haft thou din'd; the taylor ftays thy leisure,
To deck thy body with his ruftling treafure.

Enter Taylor.

Come, taylor, let us fee these ornaments.

Enter Haberdasher.

Lay forth the gown. What news with

you, Sir? Hab. Here is the cap, your worship did befpeak.

Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer,

A velvet dish; fy, fy, 'tis lewd and filthy:
Why, 'tis a cockle or a walnut-fhell,

A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap.
Away with it, come, let me have a bigger.

Cath. I'll have no bigger, this doth fit the time;
And gentlewomen wear fuch caps as these.

Pet. When you are gentle, you fhall have one too, And not 'till then.

Hor. That will not be in hafte.

Cath. Why, Sir, I truft, I may have leave to speak, And fpeak I will. I am no child, no babe; Your betters have endur'd me fay my mind; And, if you cannot, beft you stop your ears. My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, Or, elfe my heart, concealing it, will break: And rather than it fhall, I will be free Even to the utmoft as I pleafe in words.

Pet. Why, thou lay it true, it is a paltry cap,

A