Taken from the Complete Works of William Shakespeare

The Taming of the Shrew

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DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

ACT III.

SCENE I.—PADULA. The same. A Room in BAPTISTA’S

House.

Enter LUCENTIO, HORTENSIO, and BIANCA.

Luc. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward,

sir:

Have eyou so soon forgot the entertainment

Her sister Katherine welcom’d you withal?

Hor. But, wrangling pedant, this is

The patroness of heavenly harmony:

Then give me leave to have prerogative;

And when in music we have spent an hour,

Your lecture shall have leisure for as much.

Luc. Preposterous ass! that never read so far

To know the cause why music was ordain’d!

Was it not to refresh the mind of man

After his studies or his usual pain?

Then give me leave to read philosophy,

And while I pause serve in your harmony.

Hor. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of

thine.

Bian. Why, gentlemen, you do me double wrong,

To strive for that which resteth in my choice.

I am no breeching scholar in the schools:

I’ll not be tied to hours nor ‘pointed times,

But learn my lesson as I please myself.

And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down:—

Take your instrument, play you the whiles;

His lecture will be done ere you have tun’d.

Hor. You’ll leave his lecture when I am in

tune?

[To BIANCA. HORTENSIO retires.

Luc. That will be never:—tune your instru-

ment.

Bian. Where left we last?

Luc. Here, madam:—

Hac ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus;

Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.

Brian. Construe them.

Luc. Hac. ibat, as I told you before,—Simois,

I am Lucentio,—His est, son unto Vincentio of

Pisa,—Sigeia tellus, disguised thus to get your

love;—Hic steterat, and that Lucentio that

comes a-wooing,—Priami, is my man Tranio,

—regia, bearing my port,—celsa senis, that we

might beguile the old pantaloon.

Hor. [Coming forward.] Madam, my instru-

ment’s in tune.

Bian. Let’s hear.—         [HORTENSIO plays.

O fie! the treble jars.

Luc. Split in the hole, man, and tune again.

Bian. Now let me see if I can construe it:

—Hac ibat Simois, I know you not,—hic est

Sigeia tellus, I trust you not;—Hic steterat

Priami, take heed he hear us not,—regia,  pre-

sume not,—celsa senis, despair not.

Hor. Madam, ’tis now in tune.

Luc.                              All but the base.

Hor. The base is right; ’tis the base knave

that jars.

How fiery and forward our pedant is!

Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love:

Pedascule, I’ll watch you better yet.      [Aside.

Brian. In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.

Luc. Mistrust it not; for, sure, Æacides

Was Ajax,—call’d so from his grandfather.

Brian. I must believe my master; else, I

promise you,

I should be arguing still upon that doubt:

But let it rest.—Now, Licio, to you:—

Good masters, take it not unkindly, pray,

That I have been thus pleasant with you both.

Hor. You may go walk [to LUCENTIO], and

give me leave awhile;

My lessons make no music in three parts.

Luc. Are you so formal, sir? well, I must wait,

And watch withal; for, but I be deceiv’d,

Our fine musician groweth amorous.   [Aside.

Hor. Madam, before you touch the instru-

ment,

To learn the order of my fingering,

I must begin with rudiments of art;

To teach you gamut in a briefer sort,

More pleasant, pithy, and effectual,

Than hath been taught by any of my trade:

And there it is in writing, fairly drawn.

Brian. Why , I am past my gamut long ago.

Hor. Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.

Bian. [Reads.] Gamut I am, the ground of all

accord,

A re, to plead Hortensio’s passion;

B mi, Bianca, take him for thy lord,

C fa ut, that loves with all affection:

D sol re, one cliff, two notes have I’

E la mi, show pity, or I die.

Call you this gamut? tut, I like it not:

Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice,

To change true rules for odd inventions.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Mistress, your father pray you leave

your books,

And help to dress your sister’s chamber up:

You know to-morrow is the wedding-day.

Bian. Farewell, sweet masters, both; I must

be gone!

[Exeunt BIANCA and Servant.

Luc. Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to

stay.                                                [Exit.

Hor. But I have cause to pry into this

pedant;

Methinks he looks as though he were in love:—

Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble,

To cast thy wand’ring eyes on every stale,

Seize thee that list: if once I find thee ranging,

Hortensio will quit with thee by changing,

[Exit.

(On 9/01/14 – Join me for the continuation of “The Taming of the Shrew”,

We will continue with ACT III. SCENE I.— PADUA. A Room in BAPTISTA’s House.)