The Taming of the Shrew
Act III, Scene 1
Padua. Baptista’s house.
- Enter Lucentio as Cambio, Hortensio as Litio, and Bianca.
Lucentio1 - 3
- Fiddler, forbear, you grow too forward, sir.
- Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
- Her sister Katherine welcom’d you withal?
Hortensio4 - 8
- 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.
Lucentio9 - 14
- 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.
- Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine.
Bianca16 - 23
- 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 lessons as I please myself.
- And to cut off all strife, here sit we down:
- Take you your instrument, play you the whiles,
- His lecture will be done ere you have tun’d.
- You’ll leave his lecture when I am in tune?
- That will be never, tune your instrument.
- Where left we last?
Lucentio27 - 29
- Here, madam:
- “Hic ibat Simois; hic est Sigeia tellus;
- Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.”
- Construe them.
- “Hic ibat,” as I told you before, “Simois,” I am Lucentio, “hic est,” son unto Vincentio of Pisa, “Sigeia tellus,” disguis’d 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.
- Madam, my instrument’s in tune.
- Let’s hear. O fie, the treble jars.
- Spit in the hole, man, and tune again.
- 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 steterat Priami,” take heed he hear us not, “regia,” presume not, “celsa senis,” despair not.
- Madam, ’tis now in tune.
- All but the base.
Hortensio38 - 41
- 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.
- In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.
Lucentio43 - 44
- Mistrust it not, for sure Aeacides
- Was Ajax, call’d so from his grandfather.
Bianca45 - 49
- I must believe my master, else, I promise you,
- I should be arguing still upon that doubt.
- But let it rest. Now, Litio, to you:
- Good master, take it not unkindly, pray,
- That I have been thus pleasant with you both.
Hortensio50 - 51
- To Lucentio.
- You may go walk, and give me leave a while;
- My lessons make no music in three parts.
Lucentio52 - 54
- Are you so formal, sir? Well, I must wait,
- And watch withal, for but I be deceiv’d,
- Our fine musician groweth amorous.
Hortensio55 - 61
- Madam, before you touch the instrument,
- 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.
- Why, I am past my gamut long ago.
- Yet read the gamut of Hortensio.
Bianca64 - 72
- “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 Baptista’s Messenger.
Baptista’s Messenger73 - 75
- Mistress, your father prays you leave your books,
- And help to dress your sister’s chamber up.
- You know tomorrow is the wedding-day.
- Farewell, sweet masters both, I must be gone.
- Exeunt Bianca and Baptista’s Messenger.
- Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay.
Hortensio78 - 83
- 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 be quit with thee by changing.