1 Why, no; for she hath broke the lute to me.
2 Why, here's no crab, and therefore look not sour.
3 I know she is an irksome brawling scold; If that be all, masters, I hear no harm.
4 Sirrah, come hither: 'tis no time to jest, And therefore frame your manners to the time.'
5 Y'are a baggage; the Slys are no rogues; look in the chronicles: we came in with Richard Conqueror.
6 So may you lose your arms: If you strike me, you are no gentleman; And if no gentleman, why then no arms.
7 My lord, I warrant you we will play our part, As he shall think by our true diligence, He is no less than what we say he is.
8 Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our love: Listen to me, and if you speak me fair, I'll tell you news indifferent good for either.'
9 Hark you, sir; I'll have them very fairly bound: All books of love, see that at any hand, And see you read no other lectures to her.
10 Gentlemen, importune me no farther, For how I firmly am resolv'd you know; That is, not to bestow my youngest daughter Before I have a husband for the elder.
11 Master, it is no time to chide you now; Affection is not rated from the heart: If love have touch'd you, nought remains but so: Redime te captum quam queas minimo.
12 I'll tell you what, sir, and she stand him but a little, he will throw a figure in her face, and so disfigure her with it that she shall have no more eyes to see withal than a cat.
13 Tis well; and I have met a gentleman Hath promis'd me to help me to another, A fine musician to instruct our mistress: So shall I no whit be behind in duty To fair Bianca, so belov'd of me.
14 Only, good master, while we do admire This virtue and this moral discipline, Let's be no stoics nor no stocks, I pray; Or so devote to Aristotle's checks As Ovid be an outcast quite abjur'd.
15 Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet: nay, sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the over-leather.
16 Why, sir, you know no house nor no such maid, Nor no such men as you have reckon'd up, As Stephen Sly, and old John Naps of Greece, And Peter Turph, and Henry Pimpernell; And twenty more such names and men as these, Which never were, nor no man ever saw.
17 Balk logic with acquaintance that you have, And practise rhetoric in your common talk; Music and poesy use to quicken you; The mathematics and the metaphysics, Fall to them as you find your stomach serves you: No profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en; In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
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