Lucentio fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir: Have you so soon forgot the entertainment Her sister Katharina welcomed you withal? Hortensio



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tarix23.09.2017
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#1246

LUCENTIO Fiddler, forbear; you grow too forward, sir:
Have you so soon forgot the entertainment
Her sister Katharina welcomed 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 tuned.
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.
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!


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 masters, take it not unkindly, pray,
That I have been thus pleasant with you both.
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