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I love Lucentio.

       Luc.

      Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves,

      And let me be a slave, t’ achieve that maid

      Whose sudden sight hath thrall’d my wounded eye.

       Enter Biondello.

      Here comes the rogue. Sirrah, where have you been?

      Bion. Where have I been? Nay, how now, where are you? Master, has my fellow Tranio stol’n your clothes? or you stol’n his? or both? Pray what’s the news?

       Luc.

      Sirrah, come hither, ’tis no time to jest,

      And therefore frame your manners to the time.

      Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life,

      Puts my apparel and my count’nance on,

      And I for my escape have put on his;

      For in a quarrel since I came ashore

      I kill’d a man, and fear I was descried.

      Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes,

      While I make way from hence to save my life.

      You understand me?

       Bion.

      Ay, sir!—

       aside

      ne’er a whit.

       Luc.

      And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth,

      Tranio is chang’d into Lucentio.

       Bion.

      The better for him, would I were so too!

       Tra.

      So could I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after,

      That Lucentio indeed had Baptista’s youngest daughter.

      But, sirrah, not for my sake, but your master’s, I advise

      You use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies.

      When I am alone, why then I am Tranio;

      But in all places else [your] master Lucentio.

       Luc.

      Tranio, let’s go.

      One thing more rests, that thyself execute—

      To make one among these wooers. If thou ask me why,

      Sufficeth my reasons are both good and weighty.

       Exeunt.

       The Presenters above speaks.

      1. Serv. My lord, you nod, you do not mind the play.

      Sly. Yes, by Saint Anne, do I. A good matter, surely; comes there any more of it?

      Page. My lord, ’tis but begun.

      Sly. ’Tis a very excellent piece of work, madam lady; would ’twere done!

       They sit and mark.

       ¶

[Scene II]

       Enter Petruchio and his man Grumio.

       Pet.

      Verona, for a while I take my leave

      To see my friends in Padua, but of all

      My best beloved and approved friend,

      Hortensio; and I trow this is his house.

      Here, sirrah Grumio, knock, I say.

      Gru. Knock, sir? whom should I knock? Is there any man has rebus’d your worship?

      Pet. Villain, I say, knock me here soundly.

      Gru. Knock you here, sir? Why, sir, what am I, sir, that I should knock you here, sir?

       Pet.

      Villain, I say, knock me at this gate,

      And rap me well, or I’ll knock your knave’s pate.

       Gru.

      My master is grown quarrelsome. I should knock you first,

      And then I know after who comes by the worst.

       Pet.

      Will it not be?

      Faith, sirrah, and you’ll not knock, I’ll ring it.

      I’ll try how you can sol, fa, and sing it.

       He wrings him by the ears.

      Gru. Help, [masters], help, my master is mad.

      Pet. Now knock when I bid you, sirrah villain!

       Enter Hortensio.

      Hor. How now, what’s the matter? My old friend Grumio! and my good friend Petruchio! How do you all at Verona?

      Pet. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray? Con tutto [il] core, ben trovato, may I say.

      Hor. Alla nostra casa ben venuto, molto honorato signor mio Petrucio.

      Rise, Grumio, rise, we will compound this quarrel.

      Gru. Nay, ’tis no matter, sir, what he ’leges in Latin. If this be not a lawful cause for me to leave his service, look you, sir. He bid me knock him and rap him soundly, sir. Well, was it fit for a servant to use his master so, being perhaps (for aught I see) two and thirty, a peep out?

      Whom would to God I had well knock’d at first,

      Then had not Grumio come by the worst.

       Pet.

      A senseless villain! Good Hortensio,

      I bade the rascal knock upon your gate,

      And could not get him for my heart to do it.

      Gru. Knock at the gate? O heavens! Spake you not these words plain, “Sirrah, knock me here; rap me here; knock me well, and knock me soundly”? And come you now with “knocking at the gate”?

      Pet. Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you.

       Hor.

      Petruchio, patience, I am Grumio’s pledge.

      Why, this’ a heavy chance ’twixt him and you,

      Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio.

      And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale

      Blows you to Padua here from old Verona?

       Pet.

      Such wind as scatters young men through the world

      To seek their fortunes farther than at home,

      Where small experience grows. But in a few,

      Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me:

      Antonio, my father, is deceas’d,

      And I have thrust myself into this maze,

      Happily to wive and thrive as best I may.

      Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home,

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