SCENE III.
Enter Biondello.
Bion.
Master, Master; old news, and such news
as you never heard of.
Bap.
Is it new and old too? how may that be?
Bion.
Why, is it not news to hear of Petruchio's
coming?
Bap.
Is he come?
Bion.
Why, no, Sir.
Bap.
What then?
Bion.
He is coming.
Bap.
When will he be here?
Bion.
When he stands where I am, and sees you
there.
Tra.
But, say, what to thine old news?
&plquo;Bion.
&plquo;Why, Petruchio is coming in a new hat and
an old jerkin; a pair of old breeches thrice turn'd;
a pair of boots that have been candle-cases, one
buckled, another lac'd; an old rusty sword ta'en
out of the town-armory, with a broken hilt, and
chapeless, with two broken points; his horse hip'd
with an old mothy saddle, the stirrups of no kindred;
besides possest with the glanders, and like to
mose in the chine, troubled with the lampasse, infected
-- 437 --
with the fashions, full of windgalls, sped
with spavins, raied with the yellows, past cure of
the fives, stark spoiled with the staggers, begnawn
with the bots, waid in the back and shoulder-shotten,
near-legg'd before, and with a half-check't
bit, and a headstall of sheep's leather, which being
restrain'd, to keep him from stumbling, hath been
often burst, and now repair'd with knots; one girt
six times piec'd, and a woman's crupper of velure,
which hath two letters for her name, fairly set
down in studs, and here and there piec'd with pack-
thread.&prquo;
Bap.
Who comes with him?
&plquo;Bion.
&plquo;Oh, Sir, his lackey, for all the world caparison'd
like the horse, with a linnen stock on one
leg, and a kersey boot-hose on the other, garter'd
with a red and blue list, 2 notean old hat, and the
humour of forty fancies prickt up in't for a feather:
a monster, a very monster in apparel, and not like
a christian footboy, or a gentleman's lackey.&prquo;
Tra.
'Tis some odd humour pricks him to this fashion;
-- 438 --
Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell'd.
Bap.
I am glad he's come, howsoever he comes.
Bion.
Why, Sir, he comes not.
Bap.
Didst thou not say, he comes?
Bion.
Who? that Petruchio came not?
Bap.
Ay, that Petruchio came.
Bion.
No, Sir; I say, his horse comes with him on
his back.
Bap.
Why, that's all one.
Bion.
Nay, by St. Jamy, I hold you a penny,
A horse and a man is more than one, and yet not many.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
