Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool To give thee all, and in his waning age Set foot under thy table. Tut, a toy! An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. Exit TRANIO. A vengeance on your crafty withered hide! Yet I have fac'd it with a card of ten. 'Tis in my head to do my master good: I see no reason but suppos'd Lucentio Must get a father, call'd suppos'd Vincentio; And that's a wonder- fathers commonly Do get their children; but in this case of wooing A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning. Exit <<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> ACT III. SCENE I. Padua. BAPTISTA'S house Enter LUCENTIO as CAMBIO, HORTENSIO as LICIO, and BIANCA LUCENTIO. Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir. Have you so soon forgot the entertainment Her sister Katherine welcome'd you withal? HORTENSIO. 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. LUCENTIO. 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. HORTENSIO. Sirrah, I will not bear these braves of thine. BIANCA. 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. HORTENSIO. You'll leave his lecture when I am in tune? LUCENTIO. That will be never- tune your instrument. BIANCA. Where left we last? LUCENTIO. Here, madam: 'Hic ibat Simois, hic est Sigeia tellus, Hic steterat Priami regia celsa senis.' BIANCA. Construe them. LUCENTIO. 'Hic ibat' as I told you before- 'Simois' I am Lucentio- 'hic 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. HORTENSIO. Madam, my instrument's in tune. BIANCA. Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars.