READ STUDY GUIDE: Act III, scene i |
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Act III, Scene i:
Padua. A room in BAPTISTA'S house.
Padua. A room in BAPTISTA'S house.
| [Enter LUCENTIO, HORTENSIO, 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? |
| [Retires.] |
| 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.— |
| [HORTENSIO plays.] |
| O fie! the treble jars. |
| LUCENTIO: |
| Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. |
| BIANCA: |
| 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. |
| HORTENSIO: |
| Madam, 'tis now in tune. |
| LUCENTIO: |
| All but the base. |
| HORTENSIO: |
| The base is right; 'tis the base knave that jars. |
| How fiery and forward our pedant is! |
| [Aside] Now, for my life, the knave doth court my love: |
| Pedascule, I'll watch you better yet. |
| BIANCA: |
| In time I may believe, yet I mistrust. |
| LUCENTIO: |
| Mistrust it not; for sure, AEacides |
| Was Ajax, call'd so from his grandfather. |
| BIANCA: |
| 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 master, take it not unkindly, pray, |
| That I have been thus pleasant with you both. |
| HORTENSIO: |
| [To LUCENTIO] You may go walk and give me leave awhile; |
| My lessons make no music in three parts. |
| LUCENTIO: |
| Are you so formal, sir? |
| [Aside] Well, I must wait, |
| And watch withal; for, but I be deceiv'd, |
| Our fine musician groweth amorous. |
| HORTENSIO: |
| 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. |
| BIANCA: |
| Why, I am past my gamut long ago. |
| HORTENSIO: |
| Yet read the gamut of Hortensio. |
| BIANCA: |
 '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. |
| 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.] |
| SERVANT: |
| Mistress, your father prays you leave your books, |
| And help to dress your sister's chamber up: |
| You know to-morrow is the wedding-day. |
| BIANCA: |
| Farewell, sweet masters, both: I must be gone. |
| [Exeunt BIANCA and SERVANT.] |
| LUCENTIO: |
| Faith, mistress, then I have no cause to stay. |
| [Exit.] |
| HORTENSIO: |
| 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. |
| [Exit.] |
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