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Bion. Where have I been? Nay, how now, where are you? Master, has my fellow Tranio stol’n your clothes? or you stol’n his? or both? Pray what’s the news?

Luc.

Sirrah, come hither, ’tis no time to jest,

And therefore frame your manners to the time.

Your fellow Tranio here, to save my life,

Puts my apparel and my count’nance on,

And I for my escape have put on his;

For in a quarrel since I came ashore

I kill’d a man, and fear I was descried.

Wait you on him, I charge you, as becomes,

While I make way from hence to save my life.

You understand me?

Bion.

Ay, sir!—

aside

ne’er a whit.

Luc.

And not a jot of Tranio in your mouth,

Tranio is chang’d into Lucentio.

Bion.

The better for him, would I were so too!

Tra.

So could I, faith, boy, to have the next wish after,

That Lucentio indeed had Baptista’s youngest daughter.

But, sirrah, not for my sake, but your master’s, I advise

You use your manners discreetly in all kind of companies.

When I am alone, why then I am Tranio;

But in all places else [your] master Lucentio.