Bion.

I have seen them in the Church together. God send 'em good shipping! but who is here! mine old Master Vincentio? now we are undone, and brought to nothing.

Vin.

Come hither, crackhemp.

Bion.

I hope, I may chuse, Sir.

Vin.

Come hither, you rogue; what, have you forgot me?

Bion.

Forgot you? no, Sir: I could not forget you, for I never saw you before in all my life.

Vin.

What, you notorious villain, didst thou never see thy Master's Father Vincentio?

Bion.

What, my old worshipful old master? yes, marry, Sir, see where he looks out of the window.

Vin.

Is't so indeed?

Bion.

Help, help, help, here's a madman will murther me.

Ped.

Help, Son; help, Signior Baptista.

Pet.

Pr'ythee, Kate, let's stand aside, and see the end of this controversie.

Enter Pedant with Servants, Baptista and Tranio.

Tra.

Sir, what are you, that offer to beat my servant?

Vin.

What am I, Sir; nay what are you, Sir? oh, immortal Gods! oh, fine villain! a silken doublet, a velvet hose, a scarlet cloak and a ^{1 note}copatain hat: oh, I am undone! I am undone! while I play the good husband at home, my son and my servants spend all at the University.

Tra.

How now, what's the matter?

Bap.

What, is this man lunatick?

Tra.

Sir you seem a sober ancient Gentleman by your habit, but your words shew a mad-man; why, Sir, what concerns it you, if I wear pearl and gold? I thank my good Father, I am able to maintain it.

Vin.

Thy Father! oh villain, he is a sail-maker in Bergamo.

Bap.

You mistake, Sir, you mistake, Sir; pray, what do you think is his name?

Vin.

His name? as if I knew not his name: I have brought him up ever since he was three years old, and his name is Tranio.

Ped.

Away, away, mad ass! his name is Lucentio: and he is mine only son, and heir to the lands of me Signior Vincentio.

Vin.

Lucentio! oh, he hath murthered his master; lay hold of him, I charge you, in the Duke's name; oh, my son, my son, tell me, thou villain, where is my son Lucentio?

Tra.

Call forth an Officer; carry this mad knave to the jail; Father Baptista, I charge you, see, that he be forth-coming.

Vin.

Carry me to jail?

Gre.

Stay, Officer, he shall not go to prison.

Bap.

Talk not, Signior Gremio: I say, he shall go to prison.

Gre.

Take heed, Signior Baptista, lest you be cony-catch'd in this business; I dare swear, this is the right Vincentio.

Ped.

Swear, if thou dar'st.

Gre.

Nay, I dare not swear it.

Tra.

Then thou wert best say, that I am not Lucentio?

Gre.

Yes, I know thee to be Signior Lucentio.

Bap.

Away with the dotard, to the jail with him!