1 Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir: 2 Have you so soon forgot the entertainment 3 Her sister Katharina welcomed you withal?
HORTENSIO
4 But, wrangling pedant, this is 5 The patroness of heavenly harmony: 6 Then give me leave to have prerogative; 7 And when in music we have spent an hour, 8 Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.
LUCENTIO
9 Preposterous ass, that never read so far 10 To know the cause why music was ordain'd! 11 Was it not to refresh the mind of man 12 After his studies or his usual pain? 13 Then give me leave to read philosophy, 14 And while I pause, serve in your harmony.
HORTENSIO
15 Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.
BIANCA
16 Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong, 17 To strive for that which resteth in my choice: 18 I am no breeching scholar in the schools; 19 I'll not be tied to hours nor 'pointed times, 20 But learn my lessons as I please myself. 21 And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down: 22 Take you your instrument, play you the whiles; 23 His lecture will be done ere you have tuned.
HORTENSIO
24 You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune?
LUCENTIO
25 That will be never: tune your instrument.
BIANCA
26 Where left we last?
LUCENTIO
27 Here, madam: 28 'Hic ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus; 29 Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.'
BIANCA
30 Construe them.
LUCENTIO
31 'Hic ibat,' as I told you before, 'Simois,' I am 32 Lucentio, 'hic est,' son unto Vincentio of Pisa, 33 'Sigeia tellus,' disguised thus to get your love; 34 'Hic steterat,' and that Lucentio that comes 35 a-wooing, 'Priami,' is my man Tranio, 'regia,' 36 bearing my port, 'celsa senis,' that we might 37 beguile the old pantaloon.
HORTENSIO
38 Madam, my instrument's in tune.
BIANCA
39 Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars.
LUCENTIO
40 Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.
BIANCA
41 Now let me see if I can construe it: 'Hic ibat 42 Simois,' I know you not, 'hic est Sigeia tellus,' I 43 trust you not; 'Hic steterat Priami,' take heed 44 he hear us not, 'regia,' presume not, 'celsa senis,' 45 despair not.
HORTENSIO
46 Madam, 'tis now in tune.
LUCENTIO
47 All but the base.
HORTENSIO
48 The base is right; 'tis the base knave that jars. Aside 49 How fiery and forward our pedant is! 50 Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love: 51 Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet.
BIANCA
52 In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.
LUCENTIO
53 Mistrust it not: for, sure, AEacides 54 Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather.
BIANCA
55 I must believe my master; else, I promise you, 56 I should be arguing still upon that doubt: 57 But let it rest. Now, Licio, to you: 58 Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray, 59 That I have been thus pleasant with you both.
HORTENSIO
60 You may go walk, and give me leave a while: 61 My lessons make no music in three parts.
LUCENTIO
62 Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait, Aside 63 And watch withal; for, but I be deceived, 64 Our fine musician groweth amorous.
HORTENSIO
65 Madam, before you touch the instrument, 66 To learn the order of my fingering, 67 I must begin with rudiments of art; 68 To teach you gamut in a briefer sort, 69 More pleasant, pithy and effectual, 70 Than hath been taught by any of my trade: 71 And there it is in writing, fairly drawn.
BIANCA
72 Why, I am past my gamut long ago.
HORTENSIO
73 Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.
BIANCA
Reads 74 ''Gamut' I am, the ground of all accord, 75 'A re,' to Plead Hortensio's passion; 76 'B mi,' Bianca, take him for thy lord, 77 'C fa ut,' that loves with all affection: 78 'D sol re,' one clef, two notes have I: 79 'E la mi,' show pity, or I die.' 80 Call you this gamut? tut, I like it not: 81 Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice, 82 To change true rules for old inventions.
Enter a Servant
Servant
83 Mistress, your father prays you leave your books 84 And help to dress your sister's chamber up: 85 You know to-morrow is the wedding-day.
BIANCA
86 Farewell, sweet masters both; I must be gone.
Exeunt BIANCA and Servant
LUCENTIO
87 Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay.
Exit
HORTENSIO
88 But I have cause to pry into this pedant: 89 Methinks he looks as though he were in love: 90 Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble 91 To cast thy wandering eyes on every stale, 92 Seize thee that list: if once I find thee ranging, 93 Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing.