The more fool you, for laying on my duty.

Fie! what a foolish duty call you this?

Am I your bird? I mean to shift my bush;
And then pursue me as you draw your bow.
You are welcome all.

Ay, but not frighted me; therefore I'll sleep again.

Head, and butt! an hasty-witted body
Would say your head and butt were head and horn.

Cambio is changed into Lucentio.

Pardon, dear father.

The taming-school! what, is there such a place?

He says so, Tranio.

God give him joy!

Tranio, you jest: but have you both forsworn me?

And may you prove, sir, master of your art!

What, master, read you? first resolve me that.

That, being mad herself, she's madly mated.

Farewell, sweet masters both; I must be gone.

Reads ''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 ...

Why, I am past my gamut long ago.

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.

In time I may believe, yet I mistrust.

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.

Let's hear. O fie! the treble jars.

Construe them.

Where left we last?

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 ...

Is it for him you do envy me so?
Nay then you jest, and now I well perceive
You have but jested with me all this while:
I prithee, sister Kate, untie my hands.

If you affect him, sister, here I swear
I'll plead for you myself, but you shall have
him.

Believe me, sister, of all the men alive
I never yet beheld that special face
Which I could fancy more than any other.

Good sister, wrong me not, nor wrong yourself,
To make a bondmaid and a slave of me;
That I disdain: but for these other gawds,
Unbind my hands, I'll pull them off myself,
Yea, all my raiment, to my petticoat;
Or what you will command me will I do ...

Sister, content you in my discontent.
Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe:
My books and instruments shall be my company,
On them to took and practise by myself.