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Take you your instrument, stay you a while;
Luc. Here, madam: Hic ibat Simois, hic eft Sigeia tellus, Hic fteterat Priami regia celsa senis.
Bian. Construe them.
Luc. Hic ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio, hic eft, son unto Vincentio of Pisa, Sigeia tellus, disguised thus to get your love, bic fteterat, and that Lucentio that comes a wooing, Priami, is my man Tranio, regia, bearing my port, celfa senis, that we might beguile the old pantaloon.
Hor. Madam, my instrument's in tune. [returning
Bian. Now let me see if I can construe it: Hic ibat Simois, I know you not, hic est Sigeia tellus, I trust you not, hic fteterat. Priami, take heed he hear us not, regia, presume not, celsa senis, despair not.
Hor. Madam, 'tis now in tune.
Hor. The base is right; 'tis the base knave that jars.
Bian. In time I may believe ; yet I mistrust.
Luc. Mistrust it not; for, sure, Æacides
Bian. I must believe my master; else, I promise you,
My leffons make no musick in three parts.
so formal, fir? well, I must wait,
Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument,
Bian. Why, I am past my gamut long ago.
A rę, to plead Hortenko's passion,
C faut, that loves thee with all affection,
you this gamut? tut! I like it not ; Old fashions please me beft; I'm not so nice To change true rules for odd inventions.
Enter a Servant. Serv. Mistress, your father prays you
leave And help to dress your fifter's chamber up; You know to-morrow is the wedding-day.
Bian. Farewel, sweet masters both; I must be gone. [Exit.
SC EN E II.
Enter Baptista, Tranio, Catharina, Lucentio, and Attendants.
Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the 'pointed day
Cath. No shame but mine; I must, forsooth, be forc'd
Tra. Patience, good Catharine, and Baptista too;
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-cases, one buckled, another lac’d; an old rusty sword ta’en out of the town-armory, with a broken hilt, and chapeless, with two broken points; his horse hipp’d, with an old mothy saddle, the stirrups of no kindred; besides, possess’d with the glanders, and like to mourn in the chine, troubled with the lampass
, infected with the farcin, full of windgalls, sped with spavins, raied with the yellows, past cure of the vives, stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn with the bots, sway'd in the back, and shouldershotten, near-legg'd before, and with a half-cheek’d bit, and a headstall of sheep's leather, which, being restrain’d to keep him from stumbling hath been often burst, 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 set down in studs, and here and there piec'd with packthread.
Bap. Who comes with him?
Bion. O, fir, his lackey, for all the world caparison'd like the horse, with a linen stock on one leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, garter'd with a red and blue lift, an old hat, and the humour of forty fancies prick'd up in't for a feather: a monster, a
very monster in apparel, and not like a christian footboy, or
Tra. 'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion;
Bap. I am glad he's come, howsoever he comes.
Bion. Nay, by saint Jamy, I hold yoy a penny,
SCE N E IV.
Pet. Why, were it better, I should rush in thus.
Bap. Why, sir, you know this is your wedding-day ::
Tra. And tell us what occasion of import