1 Greybeard, thy love doth freeze.
2 Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her.
3 They shall go forward, Kate, at thy command.
4 Go by, Saint Jeronimy, go to thy cold bed and warm thee.
5 Give me thy hand, Kate; I will unto Venice, To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day.'
6 Of all thy suitors here I charge thee tell Whom thou lov'st best: see thou dissemble not.
7 Gramercies, lad; go forward; this contents; The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's sound.
8 Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift As breathed stags; ay, fleeter than the roe.
9 Go, girl, I cannot blame thee now to weep, For such an injury would vex a very saint; Much more a shrew of thy impatient humour.
10 O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth, Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment, And banish hence these abject lowly dreams.
11 Now, I fear thee not: Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool To give thee all, and in his waning age Set foot under thy table.
12 Tell me thy mind; for I have Pisa left And am to Padua come as he that leaves A shallow plash to plunge him in the deep, And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst.
13 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.
14 Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look askance, Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will, Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk; But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers; With gentle conference, soft and affable.
15 Marry, so I mean, sweet Katherine, in thy bed; And therefore, setting all this chat aside, Thus in plain terms: your father hath consented That you shall be my wife your dowry 'greed on; And will you, nill you, I will marry you.'
16 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 clef, two notes have I E la mi, show pity or I die.
17 Tranio, since for the great desire I had To see fair Padua, nursery of arts, I am arriv'd for fruitful Lombardy, The pleasant garden of great Italy, And by my father's love and leave am arm'd With his good will and thy good company, My trusty servant well approv'd in all, Here let us breathe, and haply institute A course of learning and ingenious studies.
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