HORTENSIO.
Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee,
For in Baptista's keep my treasure is:
He hath the jewel of my life in hold,
His youngest daughter, beautiful Bianca,
And her withholds from me and other more,
Suitors to her and rivals in my love;
Supposing it a thing impossible,
For those defects I have before rehears'd,
That ever Katherina will be woo'd:
Therefore this order hath Baptista ta'en,
That none shall have access unto Bianca
Till Katherine the curst have got a husband.
GRUMIO.
Katherine the curst!
A title for a maid of all titles the worst.
HORTENSIO.
Now shall my friend Petruchio do me grace,
And offer me disguis'd in sober robes,
To old Baptista as a schoolmaster
Well seen in music, to instruct Bianca;
That so I may, by this device at least
Have leave and leisure to make love to her,
And unsuspected court her by herself.
GRUMIO.
Here's no knavery! See, to beguile the old folks, how the
young folks lay their heads together!
[Enter GREMIO, and LUCENTIO disguised, with books under his arm.]
Master, master, look about you: who goes there, ha?
HORTENSIO.
Peace, Grumio! 'tis the rival of my love. Petruchio,
stand by awhile.
